Chapter 3: Love, Lies & Jet Skis
The morning sun was hot, but not as hot as Lila Blaze doing push-ups on the Vice HQ helipad. Sgt. Salty watched from the breakroom window, sipping coffee that could probably dissolve metal.
Zinshed slid in beside him, wearing nothing but an unbuttoned shirt and a gold toothpick in his mouth. “You gonna ask her out or just keep drooling like a golden retriever?”
Salty smirked. “I don’t date partners.”
Zinshed snorted. “That’s a lie. You dated your old partner, your yoga instructor, and your last Uber driver.”
“Only one of those had a badge,” Salty said defensively.
Meanwhile, Kicks Malone entered with wild hair and a Hawaiian shirt that looked like it came from a party store clearance bin. “I cracked Chrome’s offshore tracker,” he announced, tossing a donut into his mouth. “She’s on Starfish Island. Looks like a private villa, hot tubs, and armed guards with terrible Yelp reviews.”
Captain Roxy Steele appeared from her office, holding a manila folder like it was a grenade. “Vice is going undercover. I pulled some strings. You’re all now yacht staff for ‘La Sirena.’ Bartenders, masseuses, personal trainers.”
Salty raised an eyebrow. “You sending me in shirtless again?”
“Always,” Roxy replied. “Your abs have arrest power.”
That night, the squad boarded the luxury yacht La Sirena, disguised and deadly. Salty wore tight white slacks and a sleeveless polo. Zinshed was armed with cologne and charm. Kicks worked tech support in a towel. Lila? She was the ‘celebrity fitness instructor’—and had already gained three phone numbers before stepping on deck.
Inside the villa, Cassandra Chrome lounged in a jacuzzi with diamond earrings and a martini. She didn’t recognize Salty right away—until he accidentally dropped her cocktail into the water.
“You,” she said flatly.
“Me,” he grinned.
“You’re a terrible bartender.”
“I’m a better lover.”
She raised one eyebrow. “You wish.”
Nearby, Zinshed flirted with a suspicious woman in snakeskin. “So what’s your sign, danger?”
She giggled. “Explosive.”
Perfect, he thought. She’s either his soul mate or packing C-4.
Meanwhile, Lila led a steamy “core strength” class for the guards. “Plank and... flex!” she shouted, winking at Salty. He nearly dropped the cocktail shaker.
Things escalated when Kicks, posing as the masseuse, stumbled across a hidden door in the villa’s basement. Behind it? A weapons cache labeled “Operation: Sunset Smuggle.”
He radioed up. “We got illegal heat and five cases of champagne with grenades instead of corks.”
Salty snapped into action, grabbing Lila by the hand. “Time to pop the party.”
In a flurry of chaos, Zinshed somersaulted into the wine bar and took out two guards with a breadstick. Lila kicked a guy into the jacuzzi, soaking Cassandra’s diamonds.
Salty cornered Cassandra at the edge of the deck.
“You really think I’d fall for you again?” she hissed.
He leaned in. “No. But you might fall for this.”
And with a flick of his wrist, he handcuffed her to the anchor rail.
Splash!
They returned to HQ salty, soaked, and laughing.
Later that night, Lila knocked on Salty’s door. “You ever consider dating a partner?”
Salty grinned, pulling off his shirt. “Only when she looks like trouble.”
Lila stepped in, letting the door close behind her.
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