Page 63 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

Hudson reached down between his feet. The file was there. He grabbed it and tossed it through the shattered window, then brought his gun back to bear on the men out front. “Take it.”

The man scooped it up and rifled through it for a second before giving a grunt of satisfaction.

“Time to call it, Marshal.” The man pivoted on his heel and returned to the SUV.

The two men out front backed toward the pickup, keeping their weapons trained on him.

Tires spun on the ice, caught, and the SUV fishtailed before straightening. Its taillights vanished around the dark curve of the road. Seconds later, the pickup that had staged the breakdown pulled away from the shoulder and followed.

Hudson held position for another five seconds, scanning the dark, waiting for movement.

Nothing.

Only then did the adrenaline drain, leaving his arms strangely heavy. He lowered the gun and released a shaky breath. Sarah was fumbling with the truck’s radio, static crackling out of it in broken bursts, her hand too shaky to key the mic properly.

“—unit requesting—” Her voice was hoarse. “Two vehicles. Wait. One vehicle. I need⁠—”

“I’ve got it.” Hudson closed his hand over hers.

She tightened her grip on the mic. “I need to⁠—”

Hudson gently pried her fingers loose. “Sarah. I’ve got it. You’re okay. I’m right here.”

He ran his eyes over her shoulders, her face, looking for anything he’d missed. Once wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until he’d looked a hundred more times.

A frown crossed her face. “Hudson.” Her voice came out sideways. “You threw away your case file.”

“Yeah.”

“Why’d you⁠—”

“I don’t care.” Hudson keyed the mic. “Aurora Cove Dispatch, this is Deputy U.S. Marshal Hudson Kane. We were ambushed and forced off the road. Three armed suspects fleeing westbound in two vehicles. Sheriff injured. Request EMS and immediate law-enforcement response. Priority.”

He reached for her hand. His was shaking.

Her fingers closed around his.

27

The ambulance smelled of antiseptic and blood.

None of it explained the fear beneath Hudson’s ribs.

There was a cut along Sarah’s hairline, swelling rising along her cheekbone. But she was awake. Talking, breathing, her pupils reactive.

He knew because he’d asked. Twice. The medic had stopped answering him and started giving him the look reserved for men one question away from being told to sit down and shut up.

“Did she lose consciousness at the scene?” the medic asked.

“Briefly,” Hudson said.

Sarah’s eyes moved toward him, slow and unfocused. “I can answer.”

“Then answer.”

She frowned at him, and for a second, she looked so much like the girl who used to glare at him across Sophie’s kitchen table.

“No,” she said carefully. “I did not lose consciousness.”