Page 66 of Ground Zero

Cook gestured to a laptop on the table. “I want you to review Blackout’s personnel schedules. See if you can identify any patterns that might tell us where Adams will surface, who he’s working with.”

It was exactly what she’d planned to do anyway, but now she’d have an audience.

She sat down, hyperaware of Jake watching her from across the table.

If he was the traitor, did he know she’d teamed up with Maverick? Because someone had to be communicating with the men who’d chased them. Those men had seen her and Maverick together.

She pulled up the scheduling system, trying to look focused while her peripheral vision tracked everyone in the room. She was one of the newer agents in Norfolk, where her team was based. She didn’t feel a lot of connection with her teammates.

Eight FBI agents, Ty, Jake, and?—

She froze as Kyle Harrell entered, carrying a tablet.

“You asked for a list of any significant events happening on the East Coast over the next month.” He handed the device to Cook. “This is what I found.”

Cook scrolled through it before looking at Jake. “Why has the submarine pen security evaluation been moved up?”

“From what I understand, the commander requested it,” Jake said. “The British submarine is arriving six hours earlier than originally planned. They want security protocols in place before it docks.”

Six hours earlier. That meant the attack timeline had just shifted from tomorrow afternoon to tomorrow morning. Less than twenty-four hours.

Cook’s gaze remained calculating. “Who’s running the evaluation?”

“I am,” Jake said. “Along with Hudson and Kyle. Standard three-man team for a facility that size. Of course, the military will also have security in place.”

His words confirmed what she’d seen while doing her research. All three of Maverick’s teammates with Norfolk access would be at the submarine pens at the exact time of the attack.

Her throat tightened.

Either it was the perfect cover for the traitor, or someone was setting them all up to take the fall.

As Cook continued to bark out directions, Sheridan’s phone vibrated with an incoming message. She glanced at it, expecting Maverick.

Instead, it was an unknown number.

Check the server room. Now.

She looked up, scanning the room.

Who had sent this? And was it a trap?

No one was watching her. But whoever had sent this clearly knew she was here.

Her pulse pounded in her ears.

“Agent Mendez?” Cook stared at her, an irritated tone to his voice. “Something important?”

She stood. “No, sir. But I’d like to check something on the server.”

“Fine. But take Agent Morrison with you.” Cook nodded to one of the FBI agents she didn’t recognize.

Anxiety rushed through her. “That’s not necessary?—”

“It’s not a request.” He glowered at her. “We have emergency protocols in place right now, and this is one of them.”

“Of course.” She knew better than to keep arguing.

Morrison stood—tall, broad-shouldered, with an empty expression.