Page 3 of Pressure Point (Lantern Beach Blackout: Detonation #2)

CHAPTER

THREE

“I think that’s enough for now.” Cassidy closed her notepad. “Atlas, could I speak with you in the hall a moment?”

Atlas nodded then looked at the woman sitting in the hospital bed. “I’ll be right back. Dr. Spenser is just down the hall if you need anything.”

Something flickered in those blue eyes—relief? Gratitude? Whatever emotion it was made his chest tighten. He didn’t know the woman, but this situation brought out all of his protective instincts.

She needed someone watching out for her in her vulnerable state right now, and God had literally put her in his path.

In the hallway, Cassidy kept her voice low. “Tell me again how you found her.”

Atlas leaned against the wall and recounted the story again.

“I definitely feel like foul play could be involved here,” she murmured, a knot of concern forming on her brow.

“I agree. Did you send your guys out to check the woods?”

“They’re searching them now. So far, nothing. I thought maybe she’d been in a maritime accident of some sort and swam ashore. If that’s what happened, there’s no evidence of it. We’ll keep looking.” She paused. “Do you think the proximity to the Blackout headquarters is a coincidence?”

He swallowed hard. He wanted to say he hadn’t thought of it.

But that wasn’t true. It was definitely a consideration, given all the assignments they were working on. Any number of people could want to target them.

“It’s best to consider all the possibilities,” he finally said. “Especially after everything that’s happened. Especially with Sigma still out there.”

Sigma was a shadowy terrorist organization whose true genius lay not in the sophistication of their weapons, but in the manipulation of their operatives.

The group recruited skilled former military and intelligence personnel by convincing them they were working for a classified government program, fighting domestic terrorists and protecting national security.

These unwitting operatives genuinely believed they were serving their country when they carried out missions actually designed to destabilize American institutions and sow fear among civilians.

The group was led by an unknown mastermind who had deep knowledge of psychological warfare. Sigma exploited the very patriotism and sense of duty that made these men and women excellent soldiers, turning their greatest strengths into weapons against everything they thought they were protecting.

The organization’s recent focus on Blackout suggested a larger plan to eliminate key defense capabilities while maintaining plausible deniability.

After all, Sigma’s operatives truly believed they were hunting real terrorists, which made these very operatives impossible to turn or extract information from when captured.

“I still think we need to give her the benefit of the doubt,” Atlas said.

“Absolutely,” Cassidy agreed. “I don’t know who she is, but she’s obviously scared. I can’t blame her for that.”

“Can you run her prints? Look through missing person reports?”

“I plan on it, but it will take some time, especially with the hurricane approaching. It makes people go crazy.”

Atlas swiped a hand through his hair. “I already talked to Ty. I’m going to stay here with her a while longer.”

Ty Chambers was his boss—and he was also married to Cassidy.

“That’s nice of you,” Cassidy said. “She needs someone, and she seems to trust you.”

Atlas glanced back at the room where the mystery woman waited. There was another image he couldn’t get out of his mind.

“Those wounds on her wrists . . .” He swallowed hard. “I don’t like the look of them.”

“Me neither.” Cassidy frowned. “Keep your guard up. Your protective instincts are one of your strengths, but they could also be used against you.”

As Cassidy walked away, Atlas remained in the hallway another moment, staring at the closed door leading to the woman’s room.

Cassidy was right to be cautious. Every aspect of training he’d received, every hard-learned lesson from his CIA days told him to be wary of the woman who’d appeared from nowhere with no memory and suspicious injuries.

But when he thought about those blue eyes, about the way she’d trusted him completely despite not knowing his name or who he was, logic seemed less important than instinct.

His instincts were telling him that whoever this woman really was, she needed Atlas’s protection more than he needed to protect himself from her.

The silence in the exam room felt heavier after Atlas and the police chief left.

She pulled the thin blanket higher around her shoulders, though the chill she felt had nothing to do with temperature.

She’d answered everyone’s questions as honestly as she could. But each “I don’t remember” felt like another door slamming shut on her identity.

How could a person vanish from their own mind? How could every memory, every connection to who she was simply disappear? Was it from the concussion?

The doctor didn’t seem to think she had that severe of an injury.

Even as she lay in the hospital bed feeling lost and empty, something else stirred beneath the confusion—an alertness that seemed wrong for someone in her current state.

Her body felt coiled, ready to spring into action at the first sign of a threat.

She flexed her hands and winced. Now that the immediate shock had worn off, she was beginning to catalog her injuries more carefully.

The knuckles on both of her hands were scraped and swollen. Her wrists bore both bruises and what looked like rope burns—thin red marks that circled her skin like bracelets.

How did I get these?

She examined the marks more closely.

Someone had tied her up, she realized. There was no other explanation that made sense.

The awareness sent ice through her veins.

She lifted her hospital gown slightly, checking her ribs where a persistent ache had been bothering her. Dark bruises bloomed across her left side—the kind of marks that came from kicks or punches.

Someone had hurt her. Deliberately.

Had she escaped from someone? Was that why she’d been running through the forest? And if so, was this person looking for her right now?

Fear crept up her spine. But alongside it came something else.

Survival instinct.

A cold, calculating part of her seemed to kick into gear automatically, assessing threats and planning responses. She found herself noting the room’s exits, the potential weapons within reach, the blind spots where an attacker might hide.

Why am I thinking like this? Is this normal for me? Or is something more than natural instincts kicking in?

The questions would haunt her until she had answers.