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I pull in a big breath. “I wish it would’ve just happened last night. It wouldn’t have been awkward. I wouldn’t be self-conscious. I’m afraid I won’t be … amazing.”

“We have no time for porn. We barely have time to blow your hair out and slap some polish on your toes. Just do the opposite of what comes natural.” She takes me by the shoulders, spins me around, and gives me a shove. “Now get in there and shave your body.”

She slams my bathroom door behind me.

Holy shit.

What’s happening?

She’s not wrong. This is new for me. Call it being the only-child-third-child syndrome and having all my parents’ attention focused on me all the time. I never pushed the boundaries. Never broke the rules. I’ve only had sex with two people, for goodness sake.

I shouldn’t have told Cadence. This has the potential to end badly. Very badly. Like when she introduced me to tequila my sophomore year of college when our parents were out of town and I got to stay with her instead of Andrew.

Bang, bang, bang. “I don’t hear water! Get in the damn shower, Evie!”

Shit. Too many exclamation points for one day.

* * *

Micah

Someone is at the house.

Someone who isn’t a friend of my target by the looks of it. They drag their gun-shot-wounded friend back into their car and take off.

It takes no time for Miami PD to fall in behind us.

“Now they know what’s happening.” I put the comm to my lips and say, “If they separate, you take the second car, we’ll keep up with the first.”

When Brax hits his lights and sirens, both cars speed. We’re running hot in and out of city streets.

“That didn’t take long,” Brax says.

The second car hits his brakes and turns. Brax swerves, and I grip the dashboard. We barely miss them. I’m thrown back into my seat, but we stay on them.

“If he gets on the freeway, this might not end well,” I say before radioing in our location.

But he passes the entrance and turns east.

“He’s a fucking idiot,” Brax says. “He’s going to run out of land.”

The Port of Miami is what makes the city epic for the DEA. It might be the cruise capital of the world, but it’s also the cargo gateway to America on the east coast.

It’s also over five-hundred acres.

“There’s our backup,” Brax says as he glances at the rearview mirror. Another marked unit joins the chase.

“This is going to get sticky. He’s headed for the cargo lots. He’s lost or stupid.”

Semis and flatbed trailers line the narrow roads. At least everyone knows to get out of the way with the barrage of sirens heading into the area.

“Forklift!” I yell.

Brax hits the brakes.

The driver might as well be a deer in the headlights. He’s got headphones on and didn’t hear shit. He shuffles the machine in reverse.

“Dammit,” Brax bites as he takes off again and turns between two rows of cargo containers stacked three high. “They’re nowhere in sight. They must have turned again. Do you see them?”

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