Page 26 of Pressure Point (Lantern Beach Blackout: Detonation #2)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SIX

It wasn’t until Quinn left the Blackout headquarters in Atlas’s SUV that she felt as if she could finally breathe.

The FBI interview had rattled her more than she’d wanted to admit. If she was on the wrong side, then she deserved to pay the consequences of her actions. But the thought also terrified her.

She observed Atlas beside her as he drove. His eyes constantly checked the mirrors, noted approaching vehicles, assessed potential ambush points as if he was expecting trouble.

The weather didn’t help matters any. The sky was heavy with gray clouds that seemed to press down on the island like a lid. The air felt thick and electric, charged with the promise of the approaching storm.

“The weather’s getting worse,” Quinn murmured, watching the trees sway in the gusty wind.

“The storm has a name now—Delilah. She’s strengthened to a Category 3.” Atlas took a turn that led them toward what looked like a small downtown area. “She’s supposed to make landfall directly on Lantern Beach in two days, but we’ll feel the outer bands earlier.”

An odd flutter of recognition filled Quinn at his words, though she couldn’t place why.

She looked out at the rugged, sandy streets they passed. The weathered buildings and bent trees spoke of a community that had survived countless storms. Still, being on this oversized sandbar during a Category 3 storm could be a death sentence.

A storm had probably created this island. A storm could take it out also.

“Any word on evacuations?” she asked.

“They’re expected to make the call later today. Some people are leaving preemptively.”

A few seconds of silence passed before Quinn asked, “Is there anything else you can tell me about Sigma? Do you have any idea what they’re planning? I can’t stop wondering if I’m somehow connected . . .”

Atlas’s expression grew darker. “No concrete intelligence. But for some reason, they seem to be specifically targeting either Lantern Beach or Blackout. Maybe both. Blackout has made a lot of enemies over the years—that’s the nature of the work we do.

But this level of focused attention feels personal. ”

She rubbed her lips together in thought before saying, “I understand why they’d target Blackout operatives. But why Lantern Beach? What makes this island important enough to attack?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.” Atlas’s frustration was evident in his voice.

“This community seems so safe,” she murmured. “So removed from everything.”

“Is anywhere really safe?” Atlas sounded philosophical as he asked the question. “Sometimes the places that feel most secure are actually the most vulnerable because no one expects them to be targets.”

The words sent an unexplained chill through Quinn. It was as if somewhere in her buried memories she understood exactly what he meant.

Atlas pulled into a public parking lot near a small boardwalk lined with shops, restaurants, and an amusement area with a Ferris wheel. Despite the threatening weather, a few people hurried about on the boardwalk.

As Atlas parked, Quinn turned in her seat to study his strong profile, his wavy dark hair, his tanned skin.

Her throat went dry.

Why did he have to be so handsome and kind? The last thing she needed was this attraction she felt toward the man to distract her from the bigger, more important issues she faced right now.

“Come on.” Atlas turned off the engine. “Let’s see if anything here sparks a memory.”

She drew in a shaky breath and nodded.

This was what she needed to do.

But Quinn would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous about what she might discover.

Atlas kept one eye on Quinn and the other on their surroundings as they walked along the weathered boardwalk.

The rain had driven most tourists indoors, leaving the normally busy area feeling almost deserted.

Some business owners were already putting boards over windows and sandbags out front in preparation for the storm.

At least the breeze made the oppressive July heat a little more bearable.

Beside him, Quinn’s head turned at small sounds, and her eyes seemed to search for potential threats.

Whatever training lurked in her subconscious, it was still active.

“Anything feel familiar?” Atlas asked as they passed Beach Bound Books and Beans—a popular bookstore and coffeehouse owned by the mayor’s wife.

“Not really.” Quinn paused at an opening between the stores where they could see the angry ocean in the distance. “Though there’s something about this area that feels . . . significant. I just can’t place what.”

They stood there a moment, Atlas giving her time to process. To watch the waves. To glance at the pier stretching out over the water.

Before he could say anything else, movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

A man in a gray windbreaker stood about thirty feet away, staring directly at Quinn. The intensity in his gaze caught Atlas’s attention.

The man was middle-aged and unremarkable except for the way he seemed frozen in place, as if he’d seen a ghost.

Why was he staring?

“Quinn.” Atlas kept his voice low. “Don’t turn around, but there’s someone watching you.”

Quinn’s posture shifted subtly into something more alert and ready. “Where?”

“Gray jacket, about thirty feet behind you.”

She casually peered over her shoulder. “He doesn’t look familiar—not that he would.”

Atlas couldn’t let this guy get away. He might have answers they needed, and he’d regret not asking. “I’m going to have a conversation with him.”

“Be careful,” Quinn warned.

“I will be.”

Atlas turned and approached the man, trying to maintain the casual confidence of someone who wasn’t looking for trouble but wouldn’t back down from it either. As he got closer, the stranger’s expression shifted from recognition to something that looked closer to fear.

“Excuse me.” Atlas stopped just close enough to be conversational. “I couldn’t help but notice you staring at my friend. Is there a problem?”

The man took a step back, hands raised peacefully. “No, no problem. I just . . . she looks familiar, that’s all. I was trying to place her.”

His gaze wandered to the logo on the man’s parka. The name of a news station stretched there.

“Familiar how?” Atlas kept his voice friendly but firm.

“She looks similar to someone I met a few years back.” The man glanced nervously at Quinn, who’d turned and was now watching the exchange.

“I’m a meteorologist from Raleigh, and I’m here to cover the storm.

I’m waiting for my cameraman and trying to get a feel for the island before we start broadcasting.

Anyway, your friend looks like the woman who gave a guest lecture at a symposium on weather and climate. ”

His breath caught. “Tell me more.”

The man’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he seemed to realize Atlas wouldn’t attack him for staring.

“She was a brilliant scientist who specialized in predicting hurricane behavior and storm surge patterns. She was really passionate about her work. Your friend has the same bone structure, same way of moving. If she’s not the same person, she could be her twin. ”

Atlas glanced back at Quinn, noting how she’d gone still. She was close enough to hear the conversation, and she was definitely listening.

He turned back to the man. “What was this expert’s name?”

“I wish I could remember,” the man said. “I think she worked for NOAA. Or maybe it was the National Weather Service. Anyway, she was supposed to be one of the top people in her field. My apologies for staring. I didn’t mean to concern you.”

“It’s okay,” Atlas murmured. “Thank you.”

The man smiled. “It’s too bad your friend isn’t the woman I’m thinking of. With this approaching storm, I’d think an island like this could use her expertise.”

Atlas’s throat clenched.

Yes, they sure could use the expertise of a scientist who specialized in weather.

So was Quinn a trained operative?

Or was she a scientist?

Or was there any way she might be both?