Page 2 of Ground Zero
Straight toward him.
FBI Special Agent Sheridan Mendez had been tracking cybercriminals for eight years, but she’d never had to chase one through ocean surf.
Her sensible black pumps were definitely not designed for beach sprints, but no way would she let Maverick Adams slip away because of inappropriate footwear. While the rest of her team looked for Maverick at the Blackout headquarters, she’d wanted to try a different approach.
And her hunch paid off.
The target was exactly as described in his file—tall, athletic build, dark curly hair. He was currently dripping with ocean water, wearing a black wetsuit and carrying a surfboard like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Like he hadn’t spent the last few months orchestrating cyberattacks against federal infrastructure.
Like her partner Danny’s death meant nothing to him.
Sheridan’s jaw clenched as she kicked off her heels mid-stride. Her feet hit the cold sand.
Maverick had spotted her and headed away from her. He probably had an escape route planned.
Not happening.
She’d obsessively studied his file. The man was a computer genius, former military EOD specialist, and currently employed by Blackout. On paper, he appeared to be a patriot. In reality, the digital evidence painted him as a traitor of the worst kind.
The kind who hid behind being honorable while secretly selling out his country.
The kind who got good agents killed.
Sheridan pushed herself harder, grateful for the daily five-mile runs that kept her in shape. The suspect was fast, but he was dragging a surfboard through water and sand.
She had the advantage.
“Maverick Adams! FBI! Stop where you are!”
He glanced back, and for a split second their eyes met across the beach. Even from this distance, she saw the confusion in his expression.
Good. Let him wonder how much we know.
Instead of stopping, Maverick abandoned his surfboard and broke into a full sprint away from her.
CHAPTER 2
Sheridan dug her heels deeper into the sand as she pushed herself harder. Her lungs burned as she closed the distance.
Twenty yards. Fifteen. Ten.
Obvious tension stretched across the hard lines of Maverick’s shoulders.
Just as he neared the sand dune, Sheridan launched herself through the air in a tackle that would have made her college soccer coach proud.
They went down hard on the sand, a tangle of limbs and fury.
Adams tried to roll away, but Sheridan used his momentum against him. She pinned him face down with one knee pressed firmly between his shoulder blades.
“Maverick Adams,” she panted, “you’re under arrest for cyberterrorism, treason, and the murder of Federal Agent Danny Cameron.”
He went rigid beneath her. When he turned his head to look at her, his eyes weren’t filled with the guilt she’d expected.
Genuine shock stretched there instead.
“What are you talking about?” His voice carried a slight Southern drawl that his file hadn’t mentioned. “I didn’t kill anyone. And I sure haven’t committed treason.”
