The glass doors of the Miami PD swing open and in walk the legends—Mike Lowery, 6’3”, built like a goddamn action figure, and Marcus Burnett, the voice of reason trailing behind the chaos. Mike’s got that classic look—sharp suit, slow walk, that “I-own-the-room” energy. He’s the bad boy every criminal fears and every woman dreams about.

“Bad boys, bad boys… whatcha gonna do…” Yeah, that’s Mike’s anthem, and he lives by it.

They stroll into Captain Howard’s office, ready to get chewed out for something they probably did. But then they see her.

YN.

The Captain’s daughter.

Standing like trouble in heels. Thick curves, that round ass, those soft cheeks, innocent eyes that weren’t fooling anybody, and that red lipstick? A damn felony.

Mike’s jaw ticks slightly. He lowers his sunglasses just enough to get a better look.

Mike (cool, with that slow Miami drawl): “Well, either I died and went to heaven, or the Captain forgot to mention he’s got a goddess on payroll now.”

Marcus already looks like he’s about to pass out.

Marcus: *“Mike—that’s the Captain’s daughter!”

Captain Howard: “Mike—don’t.”

But Mike doesn’t move. Just gives her that slow, devastating grin.

Mike: “Don’t what, Cap? I haven’t even said anything inappropriate yet.”

He shoots a wink at YN. And just like that, it’s another day in Miami—with Mike Lowery breaking rules, hearts, and maybe one more tension-filled boundary.