Page 28 of Pressure Point (Lantern Beach Blackout: Detonation #2)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

Atlas waited as the results populated his phone screen.

He’d decided to research the names of any scientists associated with NOAA. Maybe her name wouldn’t pop up, but maybe her picture would.

It was worth a shot.

And he wasn’t complaining about the fact that Quinn was now sitting beside him. That he could feel her body heat as their legs touched. That he could smell the flowery scent of her shampoo.

She could be attached, he reminded himself. Could have a boyfriend or husband.

He wanted to believe neither of those things were true. There was no evidence of a wedding ring. No one who’d reported her missing.

Still, he needed to be careful—for more than one reason.

“Anything?” Quinn murmured beside him, hope lilting her voice.

He scrolled through a list of staff members and associates, waiting to see a familiar picture.

There were none.

He did the same thing with the National Weather Service.

Still nothing.

He tried not to show his disappointment and offered a compassionate smile to Quinn instead.

If he was disappointed, he could only imagine how she might feel.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

Not every scientist who works for them—or who has worked for them—will be listed online. But it was worth a shot, right?”

“Absolutely.” She frowned while nibbling on her bottom lip. “The more I learn, the less things make sense. I mean, me being a scientist doesn’t fit any of the flashbacks I’ve had.”

“No, it doesn’t, does it?”

She let out a breath before moving back to the other side of the table.

Immediately, Atlas missed her closeness.

It’s better to keep some distance, he reminded himself.

Before he could think about it too long, their food came.

Perfect. Maybe eating would distract him—from both Quinn and from their problems.

When their food came, Quinn bit into her sandwich and nearly groaned with pleasure. The combination of sharp cheddar, sweet fruit, and perfectly buttered sourdough tasted divine.

“This is incredible,” she murmured. “I can’t believe I’ve never had anything like this before.”

Atlas smiled, taking a bite of his own crab cake sandwich. “The Crazy Chefette is legendary around here.” He paused, studying his own sandwich with mock seriousness. “This crab cake is like poetry written in Old Bay seasoning—each bite tells the story of the sea, of watermen, and of tides.”

Quinn laughed, nearly choking on her sandwich. “Did you just wax poetic about seafood?”

“Maybe.” Atlas grinned, and for a moment the tension of the past few days seemed to lift. “My grandmother always said good food deserves good words.”

“Everything okay over here?” A warm voice interrupted them.

Quinn looked up to see a woman in her early thirties with long, blonde hair and a wide smile approaching their table.

“Perfect as always,” Atlas said. “Lisa, this is Quinn. Quinn, meet Lisa Dillinger, owner and culinary genius behind this place.”

“Welcome to Lantern Beach.” Warmth enveloped Lisa’s voice. “First time visiting?”

“Something like that.” Quinn shrugged, unsure how else to answer. “It seems like a great place. Everyone has been so welcoming.”

“That’s island life for you. We take care of our own. Enjoy your food.” Lisa patted Quinn’s shoulder before moving on to check another table. “And stay safe during the storm. We’re probably closing up shop early and headed off the island. We’re hoping to make it through lunch service first.”

“Probably a good idea,” Atlas said. “This one looks like it could be a doozy.”

Quinn watched her go, marveling at the easy hospitality. “It’s remarkable how nice everyone is here. It’s like a different world from . . .”

She trailed off, realizing she’d been about to compare it to something she couldn’t remember.

“From wherever you came from?” Atlas suggested gently.

“Maybe.” Quinn took another bite, still deep in thought. “If I was here on some kind of mission—and not as a scientist—why would anyone target this place? It seems so peaceful, so removed from anything that would interest government agencies or terrorist organizations.”

Atlas was quiet a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Sometimes the most innocent-looking places hide the biggest secrets.”

She smiled. She was beginning to love it when he talked all fancy like that.

They ate in comfortable silence, waiting for Atlas’s phone to ring with updates from his team. They just might have the answers she’d been waiting for. Maybe her life would start to make sense.

She should feel relieved. Instead, anxiety danced through her muscles.

What if she didn’t like what she found out? The question had been on repeat in her mind for the past few days. But how could she not obsess over that question? So much hinged on the answer.

Her fear was real. Too real.

After a few minutes of quietly eating, Quinn asked, “Do you see yourself staying here for a long time, Atlas? On this island, I mean?”

He shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’m not sure. It’s a good job with good people. But I try to take things one day at a time.”

“Do you have family to go back to?” The question felt natural, like something she genuinely wanted to know about him.

“I’ve got a pretty large family in Montana.” Atlas’s expression softened slightly. “Four brothers, three sisters. Everyone’s doing their own thing—farming, teaching, running businesses. I have twelve nieces and nephews I love seeing when I go home for holidays.”

A pang of something that might have been envy rushed through Quinn. “That sounds wonderful.”

Atlas tilted his head slightly. “I wish I could ask you the same questions, but I know you don’t have those answers.”

Quinn reached into the blank space where her memories should be. “I know this probably sounds weird, but my gut feeling is that I don’t have a close family, like I was alone before this happened. I mean, if I did, wouldn’t they have reported me missing?”

Atlas nodded, understanding in his eyes. “You would think.”

“But you’ve never been married yourself?” Quinn noted the way Atlas’s expression had grown more guarded at her question.

A shadow passed over his gaze. “No.”

The single word carried weight, suggesting history he wasn’t ready to share. But Quinn found herself pushing gently, curious about this man who’d become so important to her in such a short time.

“Have you ever been close to getting married?” She genuinely wanted to know. Her interest had moved beyond merely professional.

Atlas’s hand tightened slightly around his sandwich, and he licked his lips—a nervous gesture she was learning to recognize.

For a moment, Quinn wondered if she’d asked too much, if she’d crossed some invisible line.

Despite that, she refused to take the question back.

She wanted to know more about this man.

She knew that curiosity was dangerous. But she wouldn’t apologize for it either, especially since she felt as if she was living on borrowed time.