UNDERCOVER SPY.

CHAPTER FIVE: THE CODE IN THE COCONUT.

Zara Cruz’s POV.

The sun rose like it hadn’t tried to kill me last night.

Birds chirped. Waves lapped peacefully. And if I hadn’t almost been blown up by a minibar bomb, I might’ve actually enjoyed the damn view.

Instead, I woke up on Leo’s couch, wearing one of his shirts and cursing the resort’s fake hospitality. My shampoo scanner was gone. My minibar exploded. And someone wanted me dead — again.

“Morning, sunshine,” Leo said, walking out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and a toothbrush in his mouth.

I blinked. Once. Twice. Tried to stay professional.

“You brushing your teeth while half-naked in a crisis?” I asked flatly.

He shrugged, foamy. “Multitasking. Want eggs?”

“I want answers.”

He winked. “Scrambled it is.”

Ten minutes later, we were seated on the resort’s private terrace — fake-laughing like a couple in love while sipping pineapple juice and eating croissants stuffed with secrets.

“You sleep okay?” he asked, eyes on me, voice playful.

“I slept like a woman who survived her fifth assassination attempt this year.”

“So... like a baby?”

I snorted. “A baby being hunted by mercenaries, yes.”

“Your sarcasm,” he said, “is oddly attractive.”

“And your flirting,” I said, biting into toast, “is a red flag.”

He leaned closer. “You kissed me first.”

My cheeks went warm. “That was for the mission.”

“Sure it was.”

I glared. “Are we going to decode who tried to blow me up or flirt over carbs?”

“Both,” he said, smiling.

Shipment ETA: 48 hours. Client confirmed. Final drop = Blue Pearl (Room 702). KILL THE GIRL IF SHE INTERFERES. —E.M.

I blinked, reading the screen twice.

Room 702 wasn’t mine.

It was Leo’s.

<<<<<

Leo’s POV.

She didn’t say anything for a solid minute.

Just stared at me with that sharp stare that could either strip a man down or stab him in the chest.

“Leo...” she said slowly, voice calm but dangerous, “...why do they want you dead too?”

I sighed. “Because I’m not just a surf instructor.”

“I know that.”

“I’m not just an ex-Marine either.”

“I know that too.”

“I’m CIA. Deep cover. Embedded four months. Investigating the cartel.”

Zara blinked. “CIA?”

I nodded. “And you?”

She lifted her glass. “Classified.”

We stared at each other.

Enemy? Ally? Lover?

Who the hell knew anymore?

But one thing was clear.

Someone was playing both sides.

That night, we didn’t sleep.

We set up motion sensors. Wrote down names. Checked facial recognition logs.

I looked at her sometime around 3 a.m., when she was curled on the couch with blueprints on her lap, hair messy, eyes glowing.

“You don’t stop, do you?” I said.

She looked at me. “Stopping gets people killed.”

“And kissing?” I asked.

She smirked. “That just complicates things.”

Then she leaned forward. “You ever think this mission... might be bigger than both of us?”

I nodded. “And deadlier.”

We were no longer chasing a smuggling ring. We were swimming in it. And paradise? Was about to burn.