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long day of training in San Francisco: a Russian lesson in the Richmond District, Kung Fu in Chinatown, pole dancing at a studio on the unfortunately named Bush Street. Tomorrow was equally packed with weapons training, CrossFit, an acting workshop, and computer classes. I was so exhausted and sore every night I would usually stumble back to my place, soak in a warm bath filled with Epsom salts, and crash.
    The lessons and training were actually fun, but I had done something drastic. Something I swore I would never do, something that was completely against my belief system.
    I’d gone through an extreme makeover.
    As a rule, I was fundamentally against plastic surgery. I loved my body, my unique looks, my distinct features. I was half Latina—I had flat breasts, wide hips, almond-shaped eyes, a weak chin, and a cute bump on my nose. At first, I didn’t even consider surgery as part of my plan,
    Then Joaquín was denied bail, and I went to San Diego one more time. I showed up at the jail and, as promised, my brother refused my visit. But I refused to give up on him—I drove like a mad woman across the Coronado Bay Bridge. I was no longer a military dependent, so I didn’t have an ID to gain access to base. I parked at the Del and headed toward the beach that borders the SEAL compound.
    I hoped one of Joaquín’s friends would see me, take pity, and offer me some help or guidance. As luck would have it, Grant and his buddies were helping to train the BUD/S recruits. Grant’s face flashed a notice of recognition toward me, but he ignored me. I might as well have been a stranger.
    Then a wicked idea crossed my head. What if I was a stranger? To him, to his entire Team. Could I find out what really happened that night? Go undercover with the strippers at the club and discover the SEALs’ secret sins? Learn about them with their masks off, from the vantage point of a fantasy woman instead of the good girl they wanted to protect.
    It was the only way. I drove back to San Francisco that night and booked an appointment with a surgeon.
    Having to go under the knife last month was excruciating, especially without anyone to take care of me. The nurse I’d hired to help me recover kept lamenting that such a pretty, young girl would ruin her face and body. I agreed with her completely, but she didn’t have a clue what was at stake.
    I was trying to go undercover with Navy SEALs, men who were impossible to fool, and I couldn’t take any chances, especially with Grant. He knew every inch of my body. So I’d had breast implants, a nose job, a chin implant, fillers in my lips and cheeks, lipo on my neck, lasers to remove my freckles, and Botox on my eyebrows. I looked like a plastic freak, but the doctor swore my features would get less tight and I might someday resemble a human again.
    Still waiting.
    My entire body throbbed, the chin implant burned through my skin, my nose was still swollen. Blinking was a daily struggle. These silicone balloons on my chest strained my back.
    I forced myself to stare in the mirror, not recognizing my own reflection. The rest of my body had transformed also. As soon as the doctor cleared me, I had started weight training. Squats to give me a nice butt, weights to make my skinny body toned and lean. Was this the type of woman Grant really desired? A stereotypical plastic blonde bombshell with perfect features devoid of any uniqueness?
    I reminded myself, I hadn’t changed my appearance to win Grant back. I’d altered my looks to lure Grant to me so I could go undercover and clear Joaquín’s name. After all I’d done, this had better work. Failure was not an option. I wasn’t sure I could survive the heartache if I didn’t complete this mission.
    I was used to being alone, but I missed my brother. I missed Grant. What was he doing now? I had always kept tabs on him through Joaquín—but for the first time since I’d met Grant, I didn’t have any clue where he was. Was he deployed? With