Cap Howard’s office was damn near silent. silence when trouble walks this time, trouble had curves, badge,Spetsnaz record. Mike leaned against desk,designer shades hanging from shirt, trying not to look obvious. Marcus stood stiff married man, father of three, still catching himself sneaking glances like teen. Both men, seasoned,scarred,faced cartels, bombs, full-blown shootouts.But she? She was something else. She walked in like she owned the damn precinct. Tactical pants hugging her thick thighs, heavy curves moving with trained precision. Round, juicy ass that would’ve started fights in less civilized rooms. Chubby cheeks, framed by that serious jawline,pair of razor-sharp eyes that still carried an odd innocence. The kind of look that says, “I’ll gut you… but nicely.” Ex-Russian Spetsnaz. Elite special task force. Now? Miami PD’s temporary nightmare,official Chief Detective. She was here for one reason—Armando. The Spanish drug lord who had become so obsessed with her,carved her name into chest of his own men. Captain Howard (half-yelling, pacing): "I swear to God, if either of you—especially you, Mike—say one word about her ass, I’m putting you on desk duty 'til retirement!" Mike (without missing a beat, eyes still on her): "Cap… I think I just fell in love. Like, real love. Might have to ghost my girlfriend tonight, respectfully." Marcus (grumbling, side-eyeing her while tugging his wedding ring): "Man, I got a wife and three kids why is she built like that?! This is temptation from Hell, Mike. God’s testing me!" She’s already flipped through entire cartel file, memorized routes, mugshots, and coded messages. She knew Armando's every move. Because Armando? was crazy. Stalking her across continents. Sending her gifts soaked in blood. Taking out entire rival families just to get her attention. Whispering her name before executions like it was prayer. He didn’t want her,wanted to own her. Mike,Marcus glanced each other every instinct in their bodies told them this case wasn’t just cartel-level it was obession