From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 47

**Chapter 11**

The clock had long since passed midnight, and the Major Crimes bullpen was bathed in a dim glow, illuminated only by the flickering light of two solitary lamps.

Olivia leaned forward, her eyes fixed intently on the surveillance feed that danced across the screen in front of her. Her fingertip absentmindedly traced the rim of her coffee mug, the warmth of the ceramic offering a small comfort in the otherwise tense atmosphere.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure darted across the grainy footage, a fleeting glimpse of the cartel remnants they had been hunting. She narrowed her eyes, her heart quickening as she hit the pause button with a decisive click.

“That’s him,” she murmured, pointing to a dimly lit corner of the frame. “He was in charge of the narcotics transport during the takedown three years ago. His codename is Ghost.”

Silence enveloped her, and for a moment, she thought perhaps the man beside her hadn’t heard her. But then, out of nowhere, she felt a rush of warmth at her back.

Ethan had slipped closer, his presence almost electric. He leaned in, his finger gliding over the screen as he studied the image with a focused intensity.

“Intel just came in,” he said, his voice low but urgent. “He’s moving a shipment tonight. We need to grab him.”

The warmth of his breath brushed against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. Olivia instinctively tensed, subtly shifting half a step away, as if trying to create a barrier between them, even though they both knew it was futile.

“Interpol has been tracking him for three months. This is our chance,” he continued, his eyes gleaming with determination.

Ethan straightened, his demeanor shifting into that of a commanding officer as he handed her a Kevlar vest. “Suit up. We move out in one hour.”

Being embroiled in the same high-stakes case meant they were often in close quarters, their unspoken connection deepening with each operation.

Tonight marked their third joint assignment, and the anticipation hung thick in the air, a palpable tension that neither could ignore.

The abandoned pier awaited them, drenched in a torrential downpour that blurred the line between water and sky.

Olivia crouched behind a shipping container, the rain cascading down, soaking her hair and clothing, each droplet adding to the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Ethan’s voice crackled in her earpiece, steady and reassuring:

“Hostiles patrolling at your two o’clock. Watch your step.”

Just then, she collided with a solid, warm chest.

Ethan had closed the distance without her realizing, his rain-soaked uniform clinging to his toned muscles, a stark reminder of the danger they faced.

One arm locked tightly around her waist, steadying her, while the other swiftly covered her mouth, muffling the gasp that threatened to escape.

“Shh. Be quiet…” he whispered, his voice low and urgent.

The heat of his palm against her skin sent a rush of warmth to Olivia’s cheeks, and she turned her head sharply, glaring at him with a scowl that screamed: Are you trying to get us killed?

But rather than fear, there was a spark of amusement in Ethan’s eyes as he chuckled softly, leaning closer to her ear. “You’ve got some mud on your cheek.”

His finger brushed against her skin, a fleeting touch that sent her composure spiraling.

Just then, the sound of footsteps crunched ominously nearby!

The playful glint in Ethan’s eyes vanished, replaced by a steely focus. He shoved her into a narrow gap between two containers, their bodies pressed tightly against each other, the heat radiating from him overwhelming.

His heartbeat thundered against her back, fast and heavy, a reminder of the peril they were in.

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