Page 38 of Ground Zero (Lantern Beach Blackout: Detonation #3)

M averick 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, the Cedar 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.

His former EOD partner from Afghanistan.

The man who’d been with him through the worst days in Kandahar, who’d helped him disarm seventeen IEDs in a single day.

The man who’d died three years ago in that helicopter crash—along with Sarah.

Maverick had attended the memorial service, had comforted his widow, had helped set up a college fund for his kids.

However, there was no mistaking that distinctive walk—the slight favor of his left leg from an old injury, the way he rolled his shoulders every few steps.

Maverick’s mind reeled.

Brass hadn’t died.

The man was very much alive and walking toward the ferry terminal.

That’s why his body hadn’t been found.

The story was the perfect cover for disappearing and joining a terrorist organization.

But why? What could make a decorated soldier turn against his country?

Maverick’s phone buzzed. Jake.

Running early. Can we meet in 30?

Thirty minutes.

That would be before Maverick had fully scouted the location. Before he’d identified all the threats. Before he could warn Sheridan that his former teammate was actually alive.

Had Jake told Brass to be here? Was this all a setup?

He couldn’t ignore that possibility.

He had to decide. Abort and possibly lose his only chance to identify the mole? Or walk into what could be a trap and hope he could turn the situation to his advantage?

He didn’t respond yet.

Instead, Maverick looked back at the terminal.

Three years of supposed death had changed Brass. He now had harder edges, a colder expression, and the bearing of someone who’d crossed lines they couldn’t come back from.

Maverick shot off his response.

Change of plans. Meet at the pier instead.

Brass had taught him everything about reading tactical situations, about identifying threats and escape routes. Now Maverick needed to use those same skills against his former mentor.

He started moving, staying low, working his way toward the terminal’s back entrance. If Jake was willing to meet at the old pier, Maverick would go.

He checked the time.

Twenty-eight minutes until the meeting. He’d have to find a way to slip past Brass and get to the pier—all while Sheridan faced her own dangers at Blackout.

As Maverick moved through the shadows, one thought kept running through his mind: How many other dead soldiers were walking around, working for Sigma? And what had they been promised that was worth betraying everything they’d once fought for?

The answer might be waiting at the pier.

If Maverick lived long enough to hear it.

Sheridan moved through the server room, the hum of cooling fans and electronics masking her footsteps.

Morrison lingered near the door, checking his phone with apparent disinterest. But she felt his attention tracking her every move.

The anonymous text had said to check the server room.

But for what?

She scanned the rows of equipment, looking for anything out of place.

These servers ran Blackout’s security systems, communications, and data storage. If someone wanted to hide something or steal something, this would be the place.

Then she saw it—a small external drive attached to one of the servers, blinking steadily.

It didn’t match the other equipment.

The device was too new, too clean.

It had been recently placed.

Someone had left this here for her.

She moved closer.

“What are you doing?” Morrison asked.

“Just making sure nothing has been missed.” She glanced over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you accountable,” he muttered. “It’s better if no one is alone. That way, no one can get away with anything.”

“I wasn’t aware babysitting was part of your job description. Should I alert Cook that you’re expanding your duties?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Funny.”

Despite her attempt at humor, her stress rose another level. Was she the only one being babysat? If so, she’d put herself in a very bad position.

She pretended to play with some wires.

Then when her body blocked the drive, she palmed it.

Someone wanted her to find this. Now she needed to see what was on it.

But not now.

Right now, she slipped the device into her pocket.

As soon as she had the opportunity, she’d check to see what it contained.

The bookstore, Beach Bound Books and Beans, smelled of salt air, old paper, and coffee. The store’s owner, Tali MacArthur, was a good woman who was married to the town’s former police chief.

Maverick knew he could trust her. However, he didn’t want to put her in danger.

That was why he needed to be stealthy right now—even more so since he’d lost any cell service a few minutes ago. He wasn’t sure if this was a carrier problem or if it was the work of Sigma.

His bets were on Sigma.

The store’s back window provided a perfect view of the pier. Maverick had been watching for ten minutes.

The pier was crowded with fishermen, tourists, and several seagulls picking at abandoned crab bait.

But no Jake.

No obvious Sigma operatives.

No sign of Brass.

It was too quiet. Too perfect.

Either Jake had been delayed, or this was an elaborate setup designed to draw Maverick out.

The smart move would be to leave, to abort, and to regroup. But without cell signal, he couldn’t warn Sheridan or know if she was safe.

Tali hummed quietly at the front counter, oblivious to the danger potentially heading her way. Maverick had spoken to her on several occasions and knew she was a good woman. He’d bought a coffee and a paperback from her this morning, trying to play tourist while maintaining surveillance.

Through the window, he saw movement. A figure approaching the pier from the parking lot side. But the build was wrong for Jake—too tall, moving with a different gait.

Who was that?

The man stepped onto the pier, checking his phone repeatedly, obviously frustrated by the lack of signal. He seemed to be alone, but that meant nothing.

Was this guy here instead of Jake? Or was this another layer of the trap?

Or maybe this guy wasn’t connected at all.

As if reading his thoughts, a woman rushed toward the man and threw her arms around him.

Maverick released his breath and weighed his options.

He could slip out the front of the store and disappear before anyone knew he’d been here. But that would mean abandoning any chance of identifying the traitor, of stopping the attack.

He thought about Sheridan being at Blackout headquarters. About the British submarine. About Danny’s widow.

There was no way he could walk away from this.

Just then, a floorboard creaked behind him.

Maverick’s hand moved to his concealed weapon as he turned, expecting the worst.