Page 9 of Ground Zero
As he fumbled for his keys in a protected pocket of his wetsuit, Sheridan’s phone buzzed with an incoming call.
Assistant Director Cook. Her boss.
She ignored it. No time to answer now.
Maverick unlocked his doors, and they scrambled inside.
He wasted no time heading down the road and out of sight.
By the time those men realized they were gone, she and Maverick should be far away.
Her heart rate slowed—though barely.
Her phone buzzed again, and she stared at the screen where Cook’s name stretched again. Two calls in a row?
She knew that meant she shouldn’t ignore her boss.
Yet still, her finger hovered over the Answer button without pressing it.
Protocol demanded she immediately report this incident. To tell Cook about the arrest and the shooters. To request backup and proper transport for the suspect.
The suspect who currently drove his truck away from the scene with calm efficiency.
Indecision twisted inside her.
“You going to answer that?” Maverick didn’t look at her as he asked the question. He kept his eyes on the road.
Sheridan frowned as she watched the call go to voicemail. Then her phone immediately started ringing again.
“Agent Mendez.” Maverick’s voice was quiet, understanding. “I know what you’re thinking. Everything in your training is telling you to answer the call and report this.”
“It is.” She looked back toward the houses where the fake agents had disappeared. “But everything in my gut is telling me someone close to me told those guys exactly when and where to find me. I’m not sure who I can trust—because I’m pretty sure those guys would have taken me out to get to you.”
She silenced the ringer.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re making the right choice.”
“I hope so.” Sheridan turned off her phone completely. “Because if I’m wrong about you, I just threw away my career for nothing.”
CHAPTER 5
The truck’s interior told Sheridan more about Maverick Adams than his FBI file had.
A photo of five people in tactical gear was tucked into the visor—his Blackout team, she assumed. Empty coffee cups in the console suggested long surveillance shifts. And hanging from the rearview mirror was a pair of military dog tags that looked well-worn.
“EOD?” She nodded toward the tags, even though she already knew the answer.
“Three tours.” He kept his eyes on the road, but his hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “Iraq and Afghanistan. Learned real quick that the only thing worse than a bomb is the person willing to build one.”
“Is that why you got into cybersecurity?”
“Digital bombs are just as deadly as the physical kind. Sometimes more so.”
She couldn’t argue with that statement. Digital bombs were essentially logic bombs in computer science. They were malicious codes that remained dormant until a specific trigger condition was met, which then caused the software to perform a harmful action.
Maverick’s phone buzzed in the center console. He glanced at it and frowned. “It’smyboss this time. Fourth time in ten minutes.”
“Aren’t you going to answer?” She raised her brow as she waited for his response, curious as to what he was thinking.
