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Chapter 61 - Heat Signature
Last Updated:
2025-08-05 16:33:50
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Undercover Hearts Chapter 92 — Split Screen
SophiaBrunch at Jamie’s is one of those small domestic miracles that somehow survives the chaos of our lives.Too many pillows, a phone that only plays songs you can whistle to, and the smell of something buttered and suspiciously good coming from his tiny stove.Today it’s fluffy blueberry pancakes, the kind that fold in on themselves like tiny, happy sighs. He flips them with the theatrical precision of someone who’s been watched performing this exact motion a hundred times and knows precisely when the applause will come.“You’re here,” he says the moment I sit down, syrup already making a small, reckless arc from the decanter, “But you’re not here.”It’s soft, not a theatrical ambush. Jamie is good at being gentle without making it sound like pity. He leans on the counter, chin in hand, and squints like he’s trying to read me in the lazy light of Saturday.“Do you mean emotionally or physically?” I ask, because sarcasm is a reflex and I haven’t had my coffee yet.“Both,” he says,
Undercover Hearts Chapter 91 — Through Glass
MarcusThere are two kinds of discoveries. The neat, satisfying kind that makes your spine buzz with the pleasure of solving a puzzle, and the kind that drops like a stone into your gut. The Marrin–Bainbridge overlap is both.I find it in a dusty batch of corporate calendars. An innocuous scan someone misfiled. Marrin met a Bainbridge executive during the exact three-day gap in Pemberton’s financial records. Not before, not after, right in the place we could never account for. It’s the sort of tiny, careful detail that turns coincidence into pattern.I call Gillespie because that’s what you do when you find a hot thread and want to temper the impulse to yank at it until the whole thing unravels. She answers on the second ring, all clipped and efficient.“Goddammit Marcus! How many ways do you need me to tell you to drop this?” she asks furiously before I finish explaining. “Rodriguez doesn’t want heat on Bainbridge yet! You pushing here pulls fire to the whole op.”“Because you think
Undercover Hearts Chapter 90 – Misgivings
SophiaPlatinum’s office is too polished. Originally I found it elegant. Appreciating that it’s designed to look timeless. But lately it always feels a little like it’s hiding something.Elena greets me in the lobby like we’re girlfriends out for brunch. “Sophia! I’m so glad you could pop in. Come, let’s sit.” Weird, but okay, sure.Her dress is cream silk, draping perfectly, her heels clicking against marble as we cross into a private lounge. She pours sparkling water for both of us without asking whether I want any, sliding the crystal glass over to me like it’s all part of her choreography.“So,” she says brightly, folding her legs with impossible elegance. “How are things with Preston? He’s been practically glowing whenever your name comes up.”I school my face into something neutral. “He’s… good. Really nice. Always a gentleman.”Her eyes gleam with subtle satisfaction, as if she’s scored a point on a board I can’t see. “Of course he is. He’s exactly the sort of man I knew you’d
Undercover Hearts Chapter 89 – Fault Lines
MarcusAt Platinum, the air always smells faintly of orchids and money. It’s calculated, of course. Elena spares no expense on subtlety, but today it feels like something sour underneath the polish. Maybe that’s just me.I’ve been on autopilot all afternoon. Guiding a client tour, answering Elena’s clipped questions, pretending I don’t notice the faint ache that’s been riding shotgun in my chest ever since the bookstore café. Coffee with Sophia felt dangerously close to something I can’t afford, and I’m still walking around like my pulse hasn’t settled.Which is when Elena strikes.She leans against the glass table in her office, one ankle crossed over the other, a picture of ease. Except her eyes are sharp. “So,” she says, smooth as melted chocolate, “How’s Sophia finding dating Preston?”Just like that.A casual question, tossed like a coin into a fountain. The kind that ripples.I keep my posture steady. Neutrality is a discipline I’ve mastered. Don’t twitch, don’t tighten, don’t
Undercover Hearts Chapter 88 – Gravity Well
SophiaThe bookstore café smells like cinnamon buns and strong espresso, the kind of mix that makes you want to linger even if the chairs are uncomfortable. The space hums with a quiet buzz, pages being turned, low conversations, the hiss of milk steaming behind the counter.I arrive first and order a large cappuccino to keep my hands busy, pretending to read the opening chapter of a novel I pulled from the nearest display. My eyes don’t move across the page so much as hover. Every time the door opens, I glance up. Ridiculous. Like a teenager on her first coffee date.Except this isn’t a date. It’s… reconnaissance. Conversation. A break from spiraling. At least, that’s the script I keep feeding myself.When Marcus finally appears, he doesn’t just arrive. He walks in like gravity follows him around. Tall, sharp lines softened by the faint stubble along his jaw. He’s in a dark coat he hasn’t bothered to button, and when his eyes land on me, the rest of the room seems to recede.“Didn’t
Undercover Hearts Chapter 87 – Breach Protocol
MarcusThe thing about scrubbing a file clean is that it’s never actually clean. You can bleach the pages, rewrite the headers, run the code through filters until it hums like new, but the ghosts still hang around the edges. Shadows where names should be. Gaps where numbers should line up.That’s how I know Marrin’s trail has been erased.I’ve been combing through Bainbridge’s surveillance records for hours, pulling up every client interaction, every shell company report, every name that brushed too close to the circle. And Marrin, who I know, with bone-deep certainty, was in the middle of this, looks like he’s never existed. No casual mentions. No receipts. Not even a breadcrumb in the places where a ghost-print usually hides.It’s surgical. Which makes me even more suspicious.I lean back in my chair, pinch the bridge of my nose, and stare at the ceiling of the Bureau’s archive room. It smells faintly of toner and burnt coffee, and it feels like I’ve been here forever.The door cre
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