ZARA CRUZ – MAUI.
My instincts were screaming, but my heels were clicking.
The infinity pool glittered under the Maui sun, surrounded by sculpted bodies and manufactured laughter. I smiled sweetly, cocktail in hand, as if I weren't actively watching the bartender's hands. He stirred too much, glanced too little. Sloppy. Could've slipped something in that woman's drink and no one would've noticed.
I noticed.
Because I wasn't Zara the blogger today. I was Zara Cruz — undercover field agent, weaponized in lip gloss and curves.
And I was getting closer.
My phone buzzed in my beach tote — a single text.
> LEO: Meet me at the south end of the beach. I'll teach you how to ride something stronger than a wave.
I rolled my eyes and laughed. Out loud.
Leo Thompson was trouble — shirtless, sun-kissed, jawline trouble. And I didn't trust him. Not with his charm. Not with his surfboard. And definitely not with my heart.
But he might hold the key to this entire cartel case.
So I texted back:
> ZARA: Hope your arms are strong, surf boy. I'm not an easy wave to catch.
<<<<<
LEO THOMPSON – SOUTH MAUI BEACH.
She walked toward me like she knew the world was watching her hips.
Zara Cruz. Her cover was a joke, and her poker face was top-tier. She wasn't a travel blogger — she hadn't even posted since Tuesday. Her laptop had encrypted software. Her perfume was custom. Her questions were too specific.
And I liked it.
"Ready for your lesson?" I asked, tossing her a rash guard and pointing to the board beside me.
She raised a brow. "Planning to drown me already?"
I smirked. "Only a little. But at least you'll look good doing it."
We paddled into the turquoise waves, and something electric cracked between us in the salty silence. When she stood on the board for the first time, she nearly fell — right into me. Our bodies collided, wet, close, and something sizzled.
"Careful," I whispered, hand gripping her waist. "You fall too fast."
Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe I fall for the wrong people."
God. Dangerous girl. I was already in too deep.
<<<<<
ZARA'S POV.
The lesson ended an hour later, but I wasn't done watching him.
Leo laughed too freely. Flirted too smoothly. But something about him didn't fit the profile of a cartel stooge. I'd seen bad men. Leo wasn't clean — but he wasn't rotten either.
That scared me more.
Because I was starting to care.
And agents don't care.
That's how they die.
Later That Night
A body washed up on the shore.
Face down.
Wearing a wristband from the same resort where I was staying.
My breath caught.
Leo was already on the beach, kneeling by the corpse. His hands were shaking, his face white with shock.
Was he pretending? Or was he just as surprised as me?
He looked up — and our eyes locked.
Something in him shattered.
And I couldn't tell if it was guilt… or fear of what I'd uncover next.