Page 12 of Exposed

I shrug. “It’s not my fault I was given CIA clearance, while you were working the old-fashioned way.”

Micah slings his bag over a shoulder. “Welcome to the real world. You’re chasing the same target you were three years ago, but this time you have to play by the rules.”

Brax turns to me. “You don’t know what a rule looks like. If I could bet on it, I’d think you burned the rule book the moment you graduated from the academy.”

He’s not wrong.

I recline in my chair. “I do just fine, Cruz. Haven’t had any complaints since I moved to Miami.”

“I’ve complained,” Micah says. “Pretty sure I complain to Tim every other week.”

“I’m going to complain tomorrow when I’m working surveillance on a Saturday night,” Brax agrees as he levels his gaze on me. “You need a life outside of work. Maybe then you’ll find a way to do your job during regular business hours so we aren’t forced to work so many nights and weekends.”

“Like you’re one to talk. I worked two years straight on yourcase when you were under,” Micah drawls. “I’m out of here since we are working tomorrow. After that first meet with the Carter woman which took all of fifteen minutes, I can’t wait to see you in action for an entire evening.”

He’s not kidding. I rarely work undercover, but I couldn’t get anyone else in the group to step up. My name might be King, but Brax is the king of undercover work. Micah is only slightly more charming than me, which means he’d have trouble luring a moth if he were a flame. The fact he landed his wife is a modern-day miracle. Not to mention, I knew if I wanted to get the information I needed, this gig wasn’t going to be short term. Crockett and Tubbs are knee deep in diapers at home. Besides the people I work with, I don’t keep up with anyone in Miami but Trippy.

One, I don’t have time.

And two, it takes a lot of fucking effort, and I just don’t care.

The last thing I need are the wives of the men I work with to be pissed at me because their husbands are working more than they already do. That would make their get togethers awkward, or they’d stop inviting me altogether.

I might not care about a lot of shit, but the food is good at Sunday dinners. That, I do care about. I don’t plan to fuck it up anytime soon.

I’m the shit when it comes to operational plans, kicking in doors, and early-morning raids. What I’m not the shit at is pretending I care about venues, color schemes, cake, music, or anything that has to do with weddings, bright colors, or sappy professions of love.

Wait.

That’s not right.

I like cake.

Only freaks don’t like cake.

“I need to get home so the nanny can leave. Evie has to check on a patient at the hospital. Text me the details about tomorrow.I’ll be there, even though I won’t be happy about it,” Micah says, but he does it with a chin lift and a smirk before he’s out the door without another word or complaint.

I turn back to Brax. “You’d think I was torturing you guys.”

Brax shuts his laptop and grabs his own bag. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, the only time you need to worry about Micah is when he stops giving you shit. It’s his form of affection.”

“Let’s meet here two hours before I’m supposed to be at The Pink. We’ll go over the plan while I get mic’d.”

“I’ll be here.” He’s almost around the corner, headed for the stairs when he calls back, “Go home, Jennings. Have a beer and chill out for once.”

I’m not sure I’ve everchilled out, so I turn back to my laptop to go over the op plan one more time even though it was already approved. I get to the second page when my phone dings with a notification.

I unlock the screen to see what set off the house alarm.

My notifications go crazy with my doorbell ringing relentlessly.

And I have no issue seeing who it is when she leans over and glares straight into the camera to yell at me. “This is no time for you to go incognito, King. I drove through five states to be here because I have nowhere else to go. The only reason I’m not breaking in is because you probably have entire battalions waiting in the wings. The last thing I need is the attention of the police. Where are you?”

Fuck.

I press the button and speak into the app. “What the hell are you doing in Miami?”

Laken stands straight and takes a step back. That’s when I see a sullen preteen standing behind her.

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