Page 45 of Ground Zero (Lantern Beach Blackout: Detonation #3)

M averick hit the water feet first, body rigid, arms crossed over his chest.

The position had been drilled into him during combat diving training. Even with perfect form, the impact from three hundred feet felt like slamming into concrete.

The shock rippled up through his legs, compressing his spine, forcing the air from his lungs in a violent burst.

The cold Atlantic water instantly numbed his extremities. The ocean was colder than usual this year—near seventy.

Cold enough for hypothermia. If he had his wetsuit on, this would be a different story.

However, he’d trained for this, knew how to compartmentalize the pain, the cold, the desperate need for oxygen.

He let his momentum carry him deep, fighting the instinct to surface immediately. His ears popped from the pressure change. Saltwater burned his eyes, but he kept them open, orienting himself in the murky blue-green darkness.

Above, he could see the helicopter’s shadow hovering, the rotor wash creating a circular pattern of disturbed water. They were looking for him, waiting for him to surface.

Not yet.

Maverick kicked hard, swimming laterally away from the point of impact.

His lungs already screamed for air—the forced exhale on impact had cost him precious oxygen. But surfacing directly below the helicopter would be suicide.

Twenty yards. Thirty.

His chest felt like it might explode.

Forty yards.

He angled upward, breaking the surface with the smallest possible disturbance, just enough to grab a breath. The helicopter had moved, following his likely path.

Despite how careful he tried to be, gunfire split the air.

Bullets zipped into the water inches from his head, small geysers erupting where they hit.

Maverick dove again, this time at an angle, changing direction underwater. His body fought him. The cold sapped his strength, and his battered muscles protested every movement.

The impact had rattled him more than he wanted to admit. His ribs ached with each kick, suggesting bruising if not fractures.

He swam harder.

Then another surface, another breath, another burst of gunfire.

The helicopter pilot was getting better at predicting where he’d come up. The woman—whoever she was—probably had thermal imaging equipment on that helicopter. His body heat would show against the cold ocean water like a beacon.

Back under. Deeper this time, where the water was colder, where maybe the thermal signature would be harder to read.

His waterlogged clothes dragged at him like anchors. His shoes were gone, lost in the impact. Every movement was getting harder, slower.

But Maverick kept swimming, kept diving, kept refusing to give them an easy target.

Somewhere on Lantern Beach, Sheridan was counting on him. The attack on Norfolk was still coming.

And Maverick would rather die in this ocean than let innocent people pay for his failure.

“I don’t have proof yet, but—” Jake pulled out a tablet, showing her security footage timestamps. “Look at the access logs for our Norfolk contracts. Someone’s been using override codes to add personnel to the security evaluation team. Personnel that don’t exist in our employee database.”

“Ghost operatives,” Sheridan breathed. “Sigma agents with Blackout credentials.”

“Exactly. And only three people have those override codes. Ty, Colton, and?—”

The radio on the conference table crackled to life, cutting him off.

“All units, be advised. Suspect Maverick Adams has been spotted boarding a civilian helicopter near the pier. Aircraft is a Eurocopter EC135, tail number?—”

Sheridan’s blood went cold. “That’s not the FBI’s.”

“No,” Jake agreed. “It’s not ours either. And if Maverick got in voluntarily, it’s going to look?—”

“Like he’s fleeing with conspirators.” Sheridan grabbed the radio, switching channels to hear Cook’s operation.

“—negative contact at Norfolk. No unusual activity at the submarine pens. Beginning to think Agent Mendez’s intel was a false lead.”

Her gut tightened.

Cook’s voice continued: “If this was misdirection to help Adams escape, I want to know about it. Get me everything on Mendez’s movements for the last seventy-two hours.”

Sheridan set down the radio, her hands trembling.

She was now under investigation.

Cook thought she’d lied about Norfolk to buy Maverick time to escape.

“They’re not seeing the truth because nothing’s happened yet.” Jake locked his gaze on hers as if to drive home the truth. “The attack is still coming. They just don’t know what to look for.”

“And now I’m under suspicion too.” She looked at Jake. “If Cook pulls me in for questioning, I can’t help Maverick. I can’t stop the attack.”

“Then we don’t let that happen.” Jake stood. “I’ll create a distraction. Something that requires all hands. You slip out. Find Maverick. Clear his name.”

Another burst sounded from the radio. “Lost visual on the helicopter.”

“Go.” Jake locked gazes with her. “I’ll handle things here. Keep your team thinking you’re still in the building.”

Her pulse pounded in her ears. “Why are you helping me? Helping him?”

Jake met her eyes. “Because Maverick is the most loyal person I know. And because if we don’t stop this attack, a lot of innocent people are going to die.”

Sheridan nodded and grabbed her jacket.

“And Agent Mendez? Be careful. Whoever is behind this won’t hesitate to kill anyone who gets in their way.”

As Sheridan headed for the door, she realized she was now as much a fugitive as Maverick.

Her own agency was investigating her. The real traitor was still hidden. And Maverick was fighting for his life while the clock ticked down to a devastating attack.

Sheridan had to find Maverick. She had to stop this.

Before it was too late.