Page 48 of Ground Zero (Lantern Beach Blackout: Detonation #3)

M averick’s mind raced.

He and Sheridan needed a way to get to Norfolk fast, without using roads that would be crawling with law enforcement. Every ferry, every bridge, every tunnel would have checkpoints.

Then it hit him.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found the number he’d saved months ago.

Tom Reynolds—the friend whose fishing cottage they’d used when this all started. Tom who’d said Maverick could use his place anytime while he was traveling.

The phone rang twice before Tom’s gravelly voice answered. “Hello?”

“Tom, it’s Maverick Adams.”

A pause. “Mav? What’s going on?”

Maverick took a breath. “Tom, I need a favor. A huge one.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Your boat. The Wahoo . Is she fueled up?”

Another pause, longer this time. Maverick could practically hear his friend processing the implications.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s a long story, but there’s going to be an attack at Norfolk, and I’m the only one who can stop it.”

“Mav . . .”

“I know how it sounds. But I need you to believe me.”

Silence stretched between them. Maverick held his breath, knowing he was asking his friend to risk everything.

“She’s at the marina,” Tom finally said. “Slip twelve. I left her with a full tank—and I just had her serviced last time I was on the island. Keys are in the tackle box under the captain’s chair.”

Relief flooded through Maverick. “Tom, I can’t thank you enough?—”

“Just bring her back in one piece. And Mav? Whatever you’re doing, be careful.”

“I will.”

“And if anyone asks, you stole her,” Tom continued. “I don’t know anything about this.”

“Understood.”

Maverick ended the call and looked at Sheridan. “We have a boat.”

“Can you handle a boat in your condition?”

He flexed his fingers, feeling sensation returning as his body warmed. His ribs still ached, and exhaustion pulled at him, but adrenaline would keep him going.

“I’ll manage. It’s our only shot at reaching Norfolk in time.”

She nodded, already turning the car toward the marina. “Then let’s go stop this attack.”

As they drove, Maverick prayed his plan would work. That they could reach Norfolk before Sigma struck. That a fishing boat and two fugitives could somehow prevent a disaster.

It wasn’t much of a plan. But it was all they had.

Sheridan pulled into the marina parking lot, her nerves on high alert. Every person could be FBI, every boat could hide Sigma operatives.

But the place was surprisingly quiet.

“There.” Maverick pointed to a sleek fishing boat bobbing at slip twelve. “ The Wahoo .”

They parked and hurried from the car. As they approached the boat, a figure emerged from behind a storage shed.

Sheridan’s hand went to her weapon.

Maverick caught her wrist. “It’s okay. It’s Jimmy James.”

“Jimmy James?”

“He works the marina here. He’s a good guy.”

The man was in his thirties, tall and muscular with a bald head, multiple tattoos, and an earring—not the kind of guy she’d wanted to meet in a dark alley.

“Need help with the lines?” Jimmy James asked quietly, already moving to untie the boat.

“Jimmy James, you shouldn’t be here?—”

“Boat’s tricky to single-hand if you’re not familiar with her.” He worked efficiently, not meeting their eyes. “Besides, if anyone asks, I came down to check on her after hearing about the evacuation. Found her gone. Must’ve been stolen.”

“Jimmy James—” Maverick started.

“That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.” He finished with the lines and finally looked at Maverick. “I know what it looks like when a good soldier’s being railroaded. Go do what you need to do.”

Sheridan climbed aboard, immediately checking the boat’s equipment. Radio, GPS, emergency supplies—everything they might need.

“If they catch you—” Jimmy James started.

“Tell them I had a gun,” Maverick said. “Tell them I threatened you.”

Jimmy James stepped back onto the dock. “I’ll tell them I didn’t see anything.”

“Thank you,” Maverick said.

Jimmy James nodded once, then walked away without looking back. He was a man who understood that sometimes doing the right thing meant breaking the rules.

Maverick fired up the engines, the twin motors rumbling to life. “You ready for this?”

Sheridan cast off the last line. “Ready.”

They pulled out of the slip slowly, following the no-wake zone markers. But once they cleared the marina, Maverick pushed the throttles forward. The boat rose into a plane, racing across the water toward Norfolk.

The naval station was one hundred twenty nautical miles north. At The Wahoo ’s top speed—and without any obstacles slowing them down—they could make it in just over two hours.

The question was whether that would be fast enough.

“What’s the plan when we get there?” Sheridan shouted over the engine noise and wind.

“We find the submarine pens. Stop whatever Sigma’s planning.”

“That’s not much of a plan. Plus, there will be safety measures in place at the base. I’m not even sure they’ll let me on-site, especially with the elevated security level.”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

She didn’t. The odds were impossible.

But as she watched Maverick at the helm, his jaw set with determination despite his injuries, she knew they had to try. Norfolk held thousands of military personnel, not to mention the British submarine crew.

The boat flew across the waves, each impact jarring Maverick’s injured ribs. Sheridan saw him wince, but he never eased off the throttle.

She wished they could slow down. But they couldn’t.

They were running out of time, and too many lives were on the line.