Page 20 of Ground Zero (Lantern Beach Blackout: Detonation #3)

F or the first time since arriving in this house, Maverick glanced around Sheridan’s rental.

The compact beach house maximized its small footprint with a smart design. Vaulted ceilings soared overhead, painted crisp white and crossed with natural wood beams that matched the exterior siding.

The living area was furnished simply but comfortably—a sectional sofa in soft blue faced a flat-screen TV mounted above a small electric fireplace.

The kitchen occupied one corner with white cabinets, butcher-block countertops, and stainless-steel appliances that looked new but not ostentatious.

A small dining table sat positioned to take advantage of the sound-side windows.

Built-in shelving lined one wall, filled with books, beach finds, and a few personal photos. The décor was coastal but not kitschy—weathered wood accents, rope details, and a color palette of whites, blues, and natural tones that echoed the ocean and sky visible through every window.

Everything was designed for efficiency and comfort.

Despite its compact size, the house felt airy and welcoming—the kind of place designed for peaceful retreats and simple pleasures.

Not hideouts from killers.

Sheridan squinted as she sat beside Maverick on the couch. “Let me take a look at that cut.”

Maverick rolled up his sleeve to expose the wound.

It was deeper than he’d initially thought. Blood had soaked through his shirt and was beginning to drip onto the floor.

“This needs stitches.” Sheridan examined the cut with professional detachment. “I’ve got a first aid kit in my bag.”

She disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a medical kit.

“Always prepared?” Maverick asked as she laid out supplies on the coffee table.

“Occupational hazard. Thankfully, I trained to serve as a tactical medic when necessary. I thought the skills could come in handy, and it turns out I was right.” She pulled on latex gloves and began cleaning the wound with antiseptic. “Danny always said I packed like I was expecting a war zone.”

There was that name again.

Danny.

Were the two of them just friends? Maverick didn’t feel it was his place to ask, but his curiosity was blazing.

Part of him hoped they had just been friends and nothing more.

Which was silly. Sheridan was the enemy . . . and an ally.

Their relationship was complicated, to say the least. But his attraction to the woman needed to be shelved. This was not the time for it.

Sheridan continued to work on his cut. Her touch was gentle but sure, and Maverick found himself acutely aware of her proximity.

Acutely aware of the way she bit her lower lip in concentration.

Aware of the faint scent of her perfume mixing with the antiseptic.

Of the careful way her fingers probed the edges of the cut.

He’d been bandaged before, plenty of times, but somehow this felt different. More intimate.

It wasn’t just that Sheridan was beautiful—though she was, even with exhaustion etched around her eyes.

It was the way she focused on him with such careful attention.

The way her dark hair had escaped its professional bun to frame her face.

The realization that this federal agent who’d arrested him just hours ago was now tending his wounds with the same dedication she’d shown fighting beside him.

The thought was dangerous. She was FBI. He was a suspected terrorist. And the two of them were caught in the middle of a conspiracy that could get them both killed.

But sitting here in the lamplight, feeling her gentle hands on his skin, it was hard to remember why any of that mattered.

“This is going to sting,” she warned before applying more antiseptic.

“I’ve had worse.” But Maverick still tensed as the liquid hit the wound. “Tell me something about yourself that’s not in your FBI file.”

Sheridan glanced up at him as she threaded a needle. “Like what?”

“Anything. Where you grew up. What you wanted to be when you were a kid. Your favorite movie.” He needed the distraction, both from the pain and from his growing awareness of her as a woman rather than just a federal agent.

“I grew up in San Antonio.” She began to stitch the deepest part of the cut.

“My dad—he and my mother both are second generation El Salvadorian—was Air Force, so we moved around a lot when I was younger. It was just me—I never had any siblings, though I always begged my parents to have more children. Instead, we had dogs. Never less than two, never more than four. I wanted to be a veterinarian until I was nineteen.”

“What changed your mind?”

“A criminology class I took as an elective my sophomore year in college.” Her hands moved with steady precision as she worked.

“The professor was a retired FBI profiler, and she opened my eyes to how much science and psychology went into catching criminals. It was like veterinary medicine but for society—diagnosing problems and healing communities instead of animals.”

Maverick watched her face as she spoke, and he saw the pain that crossed her features whenever she mentioned her partner’s name.

“Danny was right.” Maverick ignored the stinging pain of the needle going through his skin. “What you do matters.”

“Does it?” A frown played across her lips. “Sometimes I wonder if we’re just playing catch-up while the real criminals stay three steps ahead.”

“You caught me,” he pointed out.

That earned him a small smile. “I’m beginning to think that wasn’t entirely a challenge. You weren’t exactly trying to disappear.”

“Fair point.” He winced as she pulled the thread tight. “What about favorite movie?”

“ The Princess Bride . Cliché, I know, but I love the sword fighting and the romance.”

“How about your name?” he continued. “Is there a story behind it? It doesn’t exactly sound Hispanic.”

“It’s Irish, actually. Apparently, it was the name of the nurse who helped deliver me. I didn’t know this until later in life, but my mom had previously lost three babies during pregnancy. She feared losing me too. So when I was born, they were elated.”

“So they named you after the nurse . . .”

“That’s right. I always wanted to meet the woman, but I never did.” She tied off another stitch. “Your turn. Tell me something that’s not in your Blackout personnel file.”

As soon as Maverick heard the question, dread pooled in his stomach.

He should have never started talking about anything personal.

Because now he needed to reciprocate by sharing.

Maverick cleared his throat as he figured out something safe to say.

“When I was a kid, I wanted to be a marine biologist,” Maverick said. “I loved everything about the ocean. Still do, obviously.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Truthfully? I watched a documentary on 9/11 with my parents. They wanted me to know what happened, to understand. I was only ten at the time I watched it. But that footage became a pivotal moment for me.”

“It was horrible what happened.”

“It was. My parents were working for the NSA at the time. They knew firsthand what our country was dealing with, and they wanted to instill in me the importance of thinking outside myself.”

“They sound wise.”

“They were. My dad also taught me about appreciating nature. He’s the one who taught me to surf.” His stomach clenched as he remembered his surfboard.

“What is it?” Sheridan squinted as she studied his face.

“That was my father’s surfboard I was using on the beach earlier. I had to abandon it when I saw you chasing me.”

Realization filled her gaze. “What? I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Of course, you couldn’t have known.

That board has probably washed out to sea by now, or someone found it and kept it for themselves.

We have bigger issues to worry about, right?

So anyway, after my parents died I wanted to follow in their footsteps to continue the work they were doing.

But I couldn’t afford college. I knew I wanted to do something to protect people, so I joined the Navy as soon as I graduated from high school. ”

Sheridan nodded, understanding. “Being an EOD tech must have been terrifying.”

“Sometimes. But it was also oddly peaceful. When you’re defusing a bomb, everything else disappears. It’s just you, the device, and the problem to solve. The moment, in its own way, is very pure.”

She finished the last stitch and began applying a bandage to the wound. “There. That should hold, but you need to keep it clean and dry.”

“Thank you.” He paused. “This could have been a lot worse. Thank God it wasn’t.”

She froze and studied his expression. “You mean that literally, don’t you?”

“I do,” he said. “God became a pivotal part of my life after my parents’ deaths.

They went to church and dragged me with them, but I never liked it.

However, going later in life helped me feel connected with them.

While serving in the military, everything became real for me.

I had to believe there was more to this world than what I saw on the battlefield. ”

“I know what that’s like.” She paused as if gathering her thoughts. “Danny was more than just my partner and friend. He was the one who introduced me to faith.”

Maverick looked up, sensing this was important. “How so?”

“I was engaged to his friend, Liam, for two years. The two of us had our whole lives planned out—a house in the suburbs, kids, the American dream.” Sheridan leaned back and wrapped her arms around herself.

“Three weeks before the wedding, Liam decided he wasn’t ready for marriage.

Said he needed to ‘find himself’ and broke it off. ”

“I’m sorry.” The man was a fool to leave someone like Sheridan behind. But Maverick didn’t say that out loud. The words would sound too much like a line. They would show something more personal than he was willing to expose.

“I was devastated. Felt like my whole world had collapsed.” Sheridan’s voice grew softer.

“Danny could have taken sides, could have made things awkward since Liam was his friend. Instead, he just showed up for me. He and his wife brought me pizza, let me cry on their shoulders, and listened to me rage about wasted time and broken promises.”

She paused, remembering.

“After a few weeks of that, Danny told me something I’ll never forget,” she continued.

“He said, ‘Sher, you’re looking for someone to complete you, but people will always let you down. What if I told you there was someone who would never break your heart, never leave you, never stop loving you?’ I thought he was talking about finding another guy, but he was talking about Christ.”

Maverick watched her face, seeing the peace that crossed her features.

“Danny and his wife, Rebecca, invited me to church with them. I figured I had nothing to lose. My life was already in shambles. Rebecca understood. She’d lost her dad at a young age also.

But sitting in that sanctuary, hearing about God’s love, about forgiveness and second chances .

. . it was like someone turned on a light in a dark room.

Danny didn’t just talk about faith, he lived it.

And slowly, I started to understand what real love looked like. ”

As their eyes met, Maverick felt something shift between them. Not just gratitude, but a deeper connection forged by shared danger, mutual trust, and a shared faith.

And it was that very connection that made this whole situation infinitely more complicated.