"Breaking in?" Jenna laughed incredulously. "The door was unlocked. And my 'flirtation' with Mina produced more intelligence in twenty minutes than we've gathered in days of observation."
"You enjoyed it." The accusation came out sharp and personal, revealing the true source of Michelle's anger. "The danger, the game, pushing boundaries—you're treating this like an adrenaline rush instead of a critical operation."
Jenna stepped closer, invading Michelle's space. "What I enjoy is being effective and getting results. You're so focused on avoiding risk that you're missing opportunities."
"I'm focused on keeping us alive," Michelle countered, unyielding. "At least three women are already dead, Jenna. The Vancouver operation was compromised, and their agent barely escaped. This isn't a game."
"I never said it was." Jenna's frustration boiled over. "But your need for control is suffocating this operation. You can't protect me by keeping me in bubble wrap."
"This isn't about protecting you?—"
"Isn't it?" Jenna challenged, taking another step closer until they were separated by mere inches. "Because from where I'm standing, your professional concern looks a lot like personal fear."
Michelle's expression hardened. "You're overstepping, Detective."
"We're well past professional boundaries, Captain." Jenna held her gaze steadily. "This isn't just about the job anymore, and you know it."
The air between them became electric, charged with anger and something far more dangerous. Jenna could see the conflictin Michelle's eyes—desire warring with professional restraint, connection fighting against control.
"Nothing matters but the operation," Michelle insisted, but her voice lacked conviction.
"Then why are you looking at me like that?" Jenna asked softly.
Before Michelle could respond, Jenna closed the remaining distance between them, her hand coming up to brush against Michelle's cheek. The touch was deliberate, a challenge and invitation combined.
Michelle remained perfectly still, her breathing shallow. "Jenna," she warned, but didn't pull away.
"Stop fighting this," Jenna murmured. "Stop fighting us."
For one breathless moment, Michelle's resistance wavered. Her eyes darkened, body swaying imperceptibly closer. Jenna felt victory within reach as Michelle's gaze dropped to her lips.
Then, with visible effort, Michelle stepped back, creating physical distance that seemed to require tremendous willpower. "No. This is exactly what I'm talking about. You take unnecessary risks without considering consequences."
"The only risk here is emotional honesty," Jenna countered, frustration coloring her voice. "Something you seem pathologically incapable of."
"We have a job to do," Michelle said, retreating further behind professional walls.
"So that's it? We just ignore what's happening between us? Pretend it's all for the cover?"
"There is nothing between us except this operation.”
Jenna shook her head, pain flashing across her features. "For someone so committed to truth and justice, you're remarkably comfortable lying to yourself."
"I'm not?—"
"You are." Jenna's voice softened, vulnerability replacing anger. "And the worst part is that I'm falling for you anyway. The real you, Michelle, not just our cover story. I'm falling for your dedication, your fierce protective instinct, even your infuriating need for control."
The raw admission hung in the air between them. Michelle stared at her, shock evident in her expression, clearly unprepared for this emotional declaration.
"I can't do this," Michelle finally whispered, sounding almost afraid. "I can't be what you want."
"I'm not asking you to be anything other than honest," Jenna replied. "About what you're feeling. About what we could be."
Michelle turned away, her posture rigid with tension. "It doesn't matter what I feel. The operation comes first. Always."
"The operation," Jenna repeated, bitterness edging her voice. "Your perfect shield against emotional risk."
"We're done discussing this. We should review the intelligence you gathered."
