Either in euphoria for taming the beast without bloodshed, or still feeding off the tension that hasn’t budged an inch since our exchange last night, he kisses me on the forehead. His touch lingers longer than anticipated, and it soars my pulse. Our combined scents are becoming as familiar to my senses as his voice is becoming to my unborn son, who hasn’t stopped wiggling since I entered the kitchen.
Closing my eyes, I lean into Grayson for just a second, relishing his closeness. I feel protected in his safety bubble, like nothing bad could ever happen to me, even though it already has.
Then, faster than I can snap my fingers, he’s gone.
After grabbing his keys, phone, and jacket, he heads to Adeline, who is waiting by the open front door. I’m glad I didn’t steal this opportunity when I notice how much anticipation is brightening her dark eyes. She’s been waiting for this day for months, if not years.
“Don’t let him convince you to do anything stupid,” I say, half-joking, half-serious.
Adeline grins. “I’ll try my best, but I offer no guarantees.”
After a brief glance in my direction, they leave. The door’s lock clicking into place behind them announces I’m alone, but I don’t feel as powerless as I did only minutes ago. I scarf down my breakfast, burn my tongue with a tea far too hot to consume, and then sit behind a bank of monitors to begin surveillance on our first sting of the day.
In minutes, I’m dragging a wireless mouse over a yellow-lined notepad, seeking surveillance points for our first rendezvous. Throughout the week, the tech team installed surveillance systems; however, this spot was left out since it was only added to the list last minute.
Grayson and Adeline have bodycams, but a broader context is needed for operations like this. A spotter could be hiding around the corner, and a muscle could be waiting out front. You need eyes over the entire block, not just the room housing possible suspects, so I won’t stop until I have every inch of the building Grayson is traveling to under my watchful eye.
Surveillance of our first undercover sting commences without hindrance. Grayson and Adeline mingle with the attendees of an early morning class, mostly unnoticed. They’re only subjected to the occasional glance. Class attendees do not admire Grayson’s natural beauty and animalistic grace as he is accustomed to. He is under scrutiny as much as the attendees are, the differencein height and age between him and Adeline too staggering to discount after only one stare.
It only takes minutes to declare this sting a bust. There’s nothing of interest. No suspicious faces, coded exchanges, or signs of the outfit we’re hunting. It is just a group of early risers hopeful that their predawn routine will prepare them for the upheaval that lies ahead for them over the next two to five months.
After pushing on comms, I say, “Activate evacuation plan. This operation is a bust.”
After a faint head bob, Adeline’s hand shoots up to her mouth as her eyes bulge. Her I’m-about-to-be-sick look is so authentic that Grayson leaps into action. He plucks her from the floor and steers her toward the bathroom, which happens to be right near the exit doors.
As Grayson and Adeline return to the apartment to assist me with surveillance, I relay instructions to the tech teams on the ground and coordinate with other agents as they arrive. I keep the operation running smoothly from the living room of my apartment.
The day passes in a blur of surveillance feeds, phone calls, and field reports. Grayson and I work side by side the entire time. We review the footage and analyze data forwarded to us by agents in the field before conducting in-depth profiling of anyone of interest.
Minutes into our joint operation, you would have no clue about the fight we had yesterday. The tension from this morning has shifted, replaced with a sense of camaraderie and trust.
We move through the list of stings together, our rhythm seamless and our focus sharp. Each class is the same—women chatting, men fretting, and the oblivious expressions of soon-to-be parents unaware of the danger that lurks in the shadows at gatherings like this.
Everything is running like a well-oiled machine, then Grayson’s voice crackles through the comms hugging my ears, his tone tense and frustrated. “Two agents haven’t checked in for the four-thirty class.”
I check the roster, my heart sinking when I realize it is one of the locations we added to the list only this morning. There’s no block-wide surveillance for that location since it is a mainly unoccupied industrial estate. The two agents were being sent in blind.
After ensuring this mishap isn’t an administration error—a.k.a. my mistake—I tell Grayson, “I sent the coordinates for that class to Agents Perez and Donatello after their last sting. They confirmed their placement before announcing they were going to grab a quick bite to eat between assignments.” I lock eyes with a pair as equally concerned as mine. “They should have arrived by now. Last contact was over two hours ago.”
Grayson drags his hand over his hair, spiking it as Brandon jumps back into the operation—as he has many times today. “There was a crash on the I-5 forty minutes ago. Agents Perez and Donatello sustained minor injuries, but because their car is totaled, they will need a brief hospital admission. They won’t make it to their afternoon assignment.”
I sling my eyes to Grayson as an imaginary bulb illuminates above his head. “I’ll get Cartwright.” My panic recedes when hegrumbles, “If she attended the same driving school as you, we will make it to the class with thirty minutes to spare.”
Minutes pass before Grayson returns, his expression grim. “She’s unwell. She can’t go. She can’t leave the fucking bathroom.”
His statements convey both frustration and guilt. Adeline ate lunch with us, and as much as Grayson jokes that the extra fiber he laces my meals with will make stool softeners unnecessary, it’s not necessarily a joke. I’ve never been more regular.
While pacing the narrow hallway, Grayson makes a call. Even though his phone isn’t using the speaker function, I hear the answer to his demand—cold and final. “There are no spare agents. You’ll have to wait until next month.”
Grayson’s jaw tightens as anger flashes through his eyes. “We can’t wait. This is the only chance we have to get eyes on someone in this unit.” He looks at me, his gaze heavy with desperation as he takes in my swollen midsection. “Give me someone. Anyone. I’ll even take your grandmother if that’s all I can get.”
“There’s no one. I’m sorry, Agent Rogers, but my team has exceeded its capabilities.”
When Markwell disconnects their call, Grayson fights not to slam his phone to the ground with as much fury as Markwell’s tone. Markwell is furious because Grayson’s sting against Thompson eliminated half his team, but I also believe he has nothing left to give.
Since Grayson believes the same, he maintains his cool—barely. He can feel what I feel. Something mammoth is about to be unearthed, and he doesn’t want to give it up for anything.
When his eyes return to me, I stand with my back straight and my hands steady. He will never ask me to place myself in a dangerous situation, not even before I was pregnant, so I have to force the narrative. “I can do this.”
