Page 5 of Ground Zero
“Looks like your terrorism career just got cut short,” she told Maverick as she grabbed his arm, ready to lead him to her SUV.
But, first, she’d see what these guys wanted.
Instead of looking defeated, Maverick frowned at the vehicles with an expression she couldn’t quite read. Concern? Fear?
“Agent Mendez, how many people knew you were coming here this morning?” he asked.
“That’s classified.” Her throat tightened as she said the words.
She definitely didn’t recognize any of the four men that climbed out of the SUVs. But the FBI was big. There was no way she could know every agent. However, the men wore standard issue utility pants and T-shirts, and they moved with trained precision.
Which should have been reassuring.
So why did something feel off?
“If I’m right about there being a traitor feeding information to Sigma,” Maverick continued, his voice urgent, “then?—”
“Mendez!” one of the men called out as he approached. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a buzz cut that screamed fed. “Special Agent Skidmore, FBI Cyber Crimes. Good job obtaining the suspect. We’re here to assist with transport.”
Sheridan holstered her weapon and, as per protocol, pulled out her badge. “I wasn’t expecting backup.”
Skidmore barely glanced at her ID, nor did he show his own. “Change of plans.”
“How did you even know I was here? That I located him?” A knot of confusion formed on her brow.
Skidmore ignored her question. “We need Adams in federal custody immediately. There’s been another attack.”
Her stomach clenched. “What kind of attack?”
“Pentagon systems. Same signature as the previous incidents.” Skidmore gestured to his men. “We’ll take it from here, Mendez.”
Something cold crawled up her spine. Skidmore hadn’t asked for her report. Hadn’t requested details about the arrest. Hadn’t shown his badge.
Any supervising agent would want a full briefing before taking custody of a high-value target.
She stepped in front of Maverick, suddenly feeling territorial.
“I’ll need to see your transfer orders.” Her words came out measured and deliberate.
Skidmore’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course.”
He reached into his jacket.
“Sheridan.” Maverick’s voice was barely a whisper, but the use of her first name made her look over at him. “These aren’t FBI agents. You and I both know it.”
She glanced at the men in front of her and frowned.
She hated to admit it, but Maverick could be right.
Something about these guys made her feel uneasy . . . almost threatened.
“Agent Skidmore.” Her hand drifted toward her weapon. “I’m going to need to verify your identity before?—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Skidmore’s hand came out of his jacket holding a gun instead of a badge.
Time slowed to a crawl as Maverick watched Skidmore’s weapon clear his jacket.
“Sheridan, move!” He threw himself sideways, his hands still cuffed behind his back.
