Page 67 of Ground Zero

As they left the conference room, Sheridan caught Jake’s eye.

For just a moment, something passed across his face.

Warning? Threat? Understanding?

She couldn’t tell.

If he was the one truly meeting Maverick—and it wasn’t someone imitating him—he’d need to leave soon. Sheridan wouldn’t be here to see if he was departing or not.

If she knew Jake was leaving, she could give Maverick a head’s up.

But it was too late now. Staying in the conference room would only look suspicious after the conversation she’d just had with Cook.

As she headed toward the server room, Morrison spoke behind her. “Interesting that Adams’s messages surfaced today.”

She turned slightly. “You think that was calculated?”

Morrison smiled, and it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think it’s a possibility.”

What did this agent know that she didn’t?

Her muscles pulled tighter as more dread pooled in her stomach.

The server room loomed ahead.

Whatever was waiting inside, Sheridan was about to find out if Morrison was there to help her—or to make sure she never came back out.

CHAPTER 38

Maverick had been watching the ferry terminal for an hour, looking for any sign that he was being set up.

He stayed in his position behind an empty beach house close to the dock, grateful for the early morning shadows that concealed him. The ferry to Ocracoke Island would depart in an hour. That meant there would be a lot of activity here—which was good and bad.

The ferry terminal stretched out before him—a wide concrete pier with vehicle lanes marked in faded yellow paint. A booth sat at the entrance, still shuttered this early, though a few cars had already started forming lines.

The massive ferry, theCedar Island,sat at the dock like a floating parking lot, its white hull streaked with rust from years of saltwater service. The vessel could hold forty cars and dozens of passengers, its open vehicle deck visible from shore. The passenger areas rose above in two levels, outdoor benches already collecting morning dew.

Seagulls perched on the pilings, waiting to scavenge food from the tourists and the churned-up fish in the ferry’s wake. The sound of the ferry’s diesel engines hummed across the water—a constant vibration that made the air itself seem to throb.Workers in reflective vests moved around the dock, preparing for the morning’s first crossing.

Normal.

Routine.

Exactly the kind of busy public place where you could disappear in plain sight or be cornered with nowhere to run.

Maverick’s throat felt dry as he watched, wondering what Jake really wanted. A warning? A trap? After everything that had happened, trust felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford.

His phone showed no new messages from Sheridan since her warning to be careful. That could mean she was maintaining cover.

Or it could mean she was in trouble.

He prayed she was okay.

Movement near the terminal entrance caught his eye.

His breath caught.

That was . . . Derek “Brass” Brassen.