"Plans change." Martinez's dark eyes narrowed. "Is that going to be a problem?"
Yes. God, yes. Hannah would be opening the bakery. She'd be pulling fresh bread from the oven, dancing to that oldies station she loved, completely unaware that her entire world was about to implode.
"Cooper?"
He forced his expression neutral. "No problem."
Martinez studied him for a long moment, then began laying out surveillance photos across the table. "We'll hit the office first. Full tactical team. Then the house." She tapped one image—Richard Everett's study, where Jake knew Hannah spent time going over the bakery books with her father. "Every scrap of paper, every hard drive."
"And Hannah?" The name slipped out before he could stop it.
Martinez's head snapped up. "What about her?"
"Is she..." Jake's throat worked. "Is she being charged?"
"That depends on what we find." Martinez's voice carried a warning. "You getting soft on me, Cooper?"
"Just being thorough."
She didn't look convinced. "Your job was to get close to her. To watch for any signs she was involved in daddy's operation. That's it."
But he'd gotten too close. Close enough to know Hannah's favorite song. The way she hummed while she baked. How her eyes crinkled when she smiled. What it felt like to sink inside her beautiful wet?—
"Cooper." Martinez's sharp voice cut through his thoughts. "I need your head in the game. Hannah Everett is not your girlfriend. She's a potential suspect in a seven-year money laundering operation. Are we clear?"
Jake's jaw clenched. "Crystal."
"Good." Martinez turned back to the photos. "Because tomorrow, her father's going down. And there's nothing you can do to stop it."
She was right. He was in too deep. Had been since that first morning in Sugar & Spice, when Hannah had smiled at him over a cup of coffee and asked if he'd look at her leaky sink.
Now here he was, studying surveillance photos of her family, planning their destruction.
"Dismissed," Martinez said, already focused on her tablet again. "Oh, and Cooper? Stay away from the bakery tonight. We can't risk tipping her off."
Jake nodded stiffly and turned to leave. His phone buzzed in his pocket—probably Hannah, wondering where he was. He'd promised to help her inventory the pantry tonight.
Another lie to add to the pile.
He paused at the door, his hand on the handle. "What if she really doesn't know anything?"
Martinez didn't look up. "Then she's in for one hell of a wake-up call."
Jake stepped into the hallway, letting the door click shut behind him. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the empty corridor.
Seven AM.
Barely twelve hours until he destroyed the only woman he'd ever truly loved.
Jake satin his parked truck, staring at his phone. Hannah's last message glowed on the screen:
Still coming over to help with inventory? Will pay in delicious baked goods…
His thumbs hovered over the keyboard. He could at least save her some humiliation. Three simple words:Don't open tomorrow.
But that would make him a traitor. Would compromise a seven-year investigation. Would probably cost him his job.
And it wouldn't even save her.
