Page 18 of Ground Zero (Lantern Beach Blackout: Detonation #3)

S heridan and Maverick waited until they’d cleared the area of woods near the house before bursting into a run.

They kept running, trying to put as much distance between themselves and those men as possible.

Sheridan’s lungs burned as she darted through the forest, dodging low-hanging branches and leaping over fallen logs.

Behind them, shouts erupted, followed by the sound of gunfire.

Maverick kept pace beside her, the laptop clutched against his chest like a shield.

More cracks of gunfire split the night air, and bark exploded from a tree inches above Sheridan’s head.

She ducked instinctively and kept running. Her FBI training kicked in as she used the dense foliage for cover.

Maverick paused to draw in a breath. “They’re gaining on us.”

Sheridan stopped beside him. She heard their pursuers crashing through the underbrush behind them, getting closer with each passing second.

These weren’t amateurs—these men moved with the coordination of a trained team.

Another gunshot.

This time the whine of a bullet passed close to her ear.

Too close.

“This way.” Maverick veered toward what looked like a main road through the trees.

Sheridan hesitated for a split second. Everything in her training told her to avoid open areas, to stay hidden in the forest.

But Maverick was military—he understood tactics in a way she didn’t.

She had to make a choice.

Trust him or trust her own instincts.

Another bullet whined past her head, and she made her decision.

She followed Maverick toward the road.

Please, God. Don’t let me regret this.

Just before they reached Highway 12, Maverick spotted their salvation—an old, weathered boat that had been abandoned on someone’s wooded property, probably for years. The hull was cracked and covered in vines, but it was large enough to provide cover.

“There.” He pulled Sheridan toward the makeshift shelter.

They dove beneath the boat’s overturned hull, pressing themselves against the damp earth and rotting leaves. Maverick felt Sheridan’s rapid breathing beside him as they waited in the darkness, both of them straining to listen for approaching footsteps.

His plan was simple. Their pursuers would most likely assume they’d continued toward the road. With any luck, the men would split up to cover more ground, making them easier to disable if needed.

Maverick prayed his plan worked.

The sound of boots crashing through underbrush grew closer.

He held his breath as he felt Sheridan tense beside him.

“They went toward the road,” a voice called out, maybe twenty yards away.

“Split up,” another voice commanded. “Jensen, cross the street and check the houses on the other side. Martinez, head north along the tree line. I’ll go south.”

Maverick counted silently as the footsteps dispersed in different directions.

One set crossed the road with heavy, deliberate steps. Another moved north through the forest. The third headed south, the sound gradually fading.

They waited another five minutes in absolute silence before Maverick finally allowed himself to breathe normally.

“How did they find us?” he whispered. “I mean, how did they find us so quickly at the cottage?”

Sheridan shifted beside him in the cramped space. “I don’t know. It’s not like we advertised our location.”

“Someone’s tracking you,” Maverick said quietly. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

“That’s impossible. I followed protocol?—”

“Check your clothes,” he interrupted. “All of them. Thoroughly. You’ve got to do it now before it’s too late.”