Chapter 4
Jake
His life, if he was being honest. Because that's what this would do to him too.
The conference room door was already open, spilling fluorescent light into the dim hallway. Inside, Special Agent Martinez stood at the head of the table, surrounded by case files and surveillance photos. Her sharp features were cast in harsh shadows as she looked up from her tablet.
"Cooper." She gestured to the empty chairs. "Shut the door."
He did, then remained standing, hands braced against the back of a chair. His fingers dug into the cheap fabric until his knuckles went white.
"Timeline's moved up," Martinez said, without preamble. "We're moving on Richard Everett tomorrow morning. Seven AM sharp."
The words hit Jake like a physical blow. "Tomorrow? We agreed on next week."
"Plans change." Martinez's dark eyes narrowed. "Is that going to be a problem?"
Yes. God, yes. Hannah would be opening the bakery. She'd be pulling fresh bread from the oven, dancing to that oldies station she loved, completely unaware that her entire world was about to implode.
"Cooper?"
He forced his expression neutral. "No problem."
Martinez studied him for a long moment, then began laying out surveillance photos across the table.
"We'll hit the office first. Full tactical team.
Then the house." She tapped one image—Richard Everett's study, where Jake knew Hannah spent time going over the bakery books with her father.
"Every scrap of paper, every hard drive. "
"And Hannah?" The name slipped out before he could stop it.
Martinez's head snapped up. "What about her?"
"Is she..." Jake's throat worked. "Is she being charged?"
"That depends on what we find." Martinez's voice carried a warning. "You getting soft on me, Cooper?"
"Just being thorough."
She didn't look convinced. "Your job was to get close to her. To watch for any signs she was involved in daddy's operation. That's it."
But he'd gotten too close. Close enough to know Hannah's favorite song. The way she hummed while she baked. How her eyes crinkled when she smiled. What it felt like to sink inside her beautiful wet—
"Cooper." Martinez's sharp voice cut through his thoughts. "I need your head in the game. Hannah Everett is not your girlfriend. She's a potential suspect in a seven-year money laundering operation. Are we clear?"
Jake's jaw clenched. "Crystal."
"Good." Martinez turned back to the photos. "Because tomorrow, her father's going down. And there's nothing you can do to stop it."
She was right. He was in too deep. Had been since that first morning in Sugar & Spice, when Hannah had smiled at him over a cup of coffee and asked if he'd look at her leaky sink.
Now here he was, studying surveillance photos of her family, planning their destruction.
"Dismissed," Martinez said, already focused on her tablet again. "Oh, and Cooper? Stay away from the bakery tonight. We can't risk tipping her off."
Jake nodded stiffly and turned to leave. His phone buzzed in his pocket—probably Hannah, wondering where he was. He'd promised to help her inventory the pantry tonight.
Another lie to add to the pile.
He paused at the door, his hand on the handle. "What if she really doesn't know anything?"
Martinez didn't look up. "Then she's in for one hell of a wake-up call."
Jake stepped into the hallway, letting the door click shut behind him. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the empty corridor.
Seven AM.
Barely twelve hours until he destroyed the only woman he'd ever truly loved.
Jake sat in his parked truck, staring at his phone. Hannah's last message glowed on the screen:
Still coming over to help with inventory? Will pay in delicious baked goods…
His thumbs hovered over the keyboard. He could at least save her some humiliation. Three simple words: Don't open tomorrow.
But that would make him a traitor. Would compromise a seven-year investigation. Would probably cost him his job.
And it wouldn't even save her.
The FBI would still come. Her father would still be arrested.
He pressed his forehead against the steering wheel, remembering how she'd felt in his arms this morning—soft and warm and trusting. How she'd kissed him goodbye, tasting like coffee and vanilla. Was that the last time he would ever kiss her? He'd stupidly assumed he would see her again before…
God, he was going to be sick.
His phone buzzed again. Martinez.
Stay away from the bakery. That's an order.
Jake's fingers tightened around the phone until the case creaked. He should never have let it get this far. Should have kept his distance, stayed professional. Should have remembered that Hannah Everett was just another name in a case file.
But he hadn't.
Instead, he'd fallen for her smile. Her kindness. The way she looked when she was tasting her recipes, that crinkle in her forehead as she concentrated on the flavors. The way she made everyone who walked into Sugar & Spice feel like family.
The way she'd made him feel like he was exactly where he was always meant to be.
His thumb swept across the screen, pulling up a new message.
Hannah…
The cursor blinked accusingly.
What would he even say? Hey sweetheart, your father's a criminal and I'm the FBI agent who's going to destroy your family tomorrow. But I love you, so maybe we can work this out?
"Fuck." He deleted the message, letting his head fall back against the seat.
She'd hate him either way. At least this way, she'd be free to hate him without the FBI breathing down her neck for obstruction of justice.
His phone buzzed one more time. Hannah again.
Everything okay? Miss you...
Jake's chest felt like it was being crushed in a vice. He forced himself to type:
Can't make it tonight. Early start tomorrow.
Technically this wasn't even a lie. He just wished it was.
Her response came immediately: Rain check? Love you.
"I love you too," he whispered to his empty truck. "I'm sorry."
But sorry wouldn't fix this. Nothing would.
Seven AM tomorrow, he would stand by and watch as federal agents stormed Richard Everett's office. Would probably have to help arrest the man Hannah adored—the father who came by every Sunday to go over the books with her, who'd raised her to believe in trust and kindness and small-town values.
And Hannah would never forgive him.
She shouldn't forgive him.
Jake started his truck, his decision made for him by protocol and duty and the weight of a badge that had never felt heavier. He couldn't warn her. Couldn't save her. Couldn't even hold her one last time.
All he could do was drive home and try not to think about how, in less than twelve hours, he was going to lose everything that mattered.
Everything that had ever felt real.