Page 22 of Ground Zero (Lantern Beach Blackout: Detonation #3)

S heridan settled beside Maverick at the window, her heart still racing from their relocation.

Part of her wondered if they were being overly paranoid. But the larger part—the part trained in federal law enforcement—knew that paranoia kept you alive.

“Did you recognize either of those names the men said?” Maverick asked. “Jensen and Martinez?”

She shook her head. “No idea. They don’t sound familiar to me.”

They’d been watching for almost an hour when she saw them.

Three dark figures moved through the shadows around her rental house with the same professional stealth they’d encountered at the fishing cottage.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Maverick.”

“I see them.”

He sat beside her at the window, close enough that she could feel the tension radiating from his body. His jaw was set in that focused way she was beginning to recognize—the same expression he’d worn when defusing the situation on the beach.

Even in the dim light, she saw his eyes tracking the movement below with the sharp awareness of someone who’d learned to assess threats in combat zones. His hands rested on the windowsill, steady despite everything they’d been through.

She found herself oddly reassured by his calm competence.

She watched as the men surrounded the house. One covered the back exit while two approached the front door. They moved like a coordinated unit, like people who’d done this many times before.

“If we’d stayed . . .” she whispered.

“We’d be dead,” Maverick finished with a frown.

The men disappeared inside the rental house, and Sheridan found herself holding her breath. She had no doubt those guys were searching for any clue about where she and Maverick might have gone.

But what if they were doing more than just searching? What if they were planting surveillance equipment—listening devices, cameras, GPS trackers?

The implications multiplied in her mind like a virus.

“They could be planting bugs,” she whispered to Maverick.

He nodded. “We have to assume that house is completely compromised now.”

The rental house that was supposed to be her safe base of operations had just become a trap waiting to spring on anyone who trusted it.

After several minutes that felt like hours, the figures emerged from the house. They gathered on the front porch, close enough that Sheridan could catch fragments of their conversation.

“She’s not here . . .”

“Probably tried to leave the island . . . if only we hadn’t wasted so much time chasing that stupid garbage truck.”

“We have to find her.” One voice rose above the others. “Boss wants her eliminated. Says she knows too much.”

Sheridan’s blood turned to ice. Not captured.

Eliminated.

“Expand the search perimeter. Check the ferry terminal. Check around town to see if anyone’s seen her.”

The voices faded as the men dispersed, disappearing back into the darkness as silently as they’d come.

Sheridan realized she’d been gripping Maverick’s arm without realizing it.

She released him, her hands shaking slightly.

“They’re trying to kill us,” she whispered.

“I know.” Maverick sounded grim. “Which means we’re definitely on the right track about Ground Zero.”

Maverick watched the last of the operatives disappear into the night before turning his attention back to their immediate problem.

They had less than seventy-two hours to stop a terrorist attack, and they were completely cut off from any official support. Anyone they thought they could trust might be an enemy.

“We need a plan.” He stood and leaned against the wall next to the window, remaining vigilant.

Sheridan turned and did the same on the opposite side, her face pale but determined in the moonlight streaming through the window. “I’ve been thinking about that. Right now, no one knows that I realize there’s a traitor in the FBI.”

He stared at her profile. “What are you suggesting?”

She let out a long breath. “I’m suggesting that I go back. Act like nothing has happened. Tell my colleagues that I’ve been searching for you and came up empty, but I’m still on the case.”

“What?” Maverick’s voice rose with the question.

She met his eyes. “It would give me access to information. A chance to figure out who the traitor is. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Maverick’s stomach clenched at the thought of Sheridan walking back into danger. “That’s incredibly risky. If this traitor begins to suspect you know something . . .”

“Then I’ll have to make sure they don’t suspect anything.” She turned to face him fully. “Think about it, Maverick. This might be our only chance to get inside their operation and find out the specifics of the Ground Zero attack.”

His jaw clenched. He didn’t want to admit how opposed to her plan he was.

There was no good reason for his opposition.

Unless he cared about her. And he couldn’t care about her.

They hadn’t even known each other that long.

They didn’t even know each other that well.

The last time he’d let himself care about a colleague, she’d died in Kandahar. Sarah Lowe—sharpshooter, explosive specialist, the only person who could make him laugh after defusing seventeen IEDs in one day.

The two of them had broken every rule about fraternization, stolen moments between missions, plans for after deployment.

Then came Operation Storm. She’d volunteered for the rescue team when their convoy was hit. Another teammate, Brass, had been with her.

The official report said the helicopter went down in enemy territory with no survivors.

Maverick had waited three days at the landing zone, refusing to believe it until they brought back her body. Hers was recovered, but her partner’s never was.

The memory served as a reminder of what happened when you let yourself love someone in this line of work.

He’d sworn never to do so again. Never let anyone get that close. Never watch someone he loved take risks he couldn’t prevent.

Yet here he was, already terrified of losing Sheridan.

Sheridan waited for his response.

Maverick swallowed hard before asking, “And if you’re wrong? If they’ve already figured out you’ve been helping me?”

“Then I’m dead either way.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, but Maverick saw the fear she tried to hide. “At least this way, I might be able to stop them first.”

He ran a hand through his hair, every protective instinct he possessed screaming against this plan. But strategically, Sheridan was right. It was their best option for gathering intelligence.

Sheridan studied his face. “You’re worried about me.”

It wasn’t a question, and Maverick didn’t try to deny it. “Yes, I am.”

She tilted her head, her gaze still on him. “I can handle myself.”

He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “I know you can. That doesn’t mean I have to like putting you in danger.”

The admission hung between them, loaded with implications neither of them were quite ready to address.

Were they both starting to care about each other?