Page 109 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

Hudson’s mouth tightened at one corner.

Owen’s gaze moved between them, and a smile ticked the corner of his mouth. “All good, I assure you.”

The Malinois rose and gave himself a shake.

“And this is Gunner,” Owen said. “Recently retired. My old partner.”

Gunner sniffed her hand. His amber eyes lifted to hers and stayed there long enough that Sarah had the odd sense of being interviewed. Then he leaned his considerable weight against her leg.

Owen stared at him. “Seriously?”

Sarah laughed and rubbed one pointed ear. “I think he likes me.”

“Six years I’ve spent teaching him not to trust strangers.”

“I’m not a stranger,” Sarah said. “Hudson told you about me.”

“Okay. Well. Apparently everybody’s been briefed,” Owen said.

Despite herself, Sarah smiled.

Then Hudson’s expression changed. “Cord’s stable. Nora’s with him.”

And just like that, the hospital came back into focus. Sarah dropped her hand from Gunner’s ear.

Hudson held the hospital door open. “Come on. I’ll take you to Cord.”

Owen tapped his thigh once, and Gunner moved instantly to his side. “Give me a minute. I need to get him settled. Gunner has a date with his heated travel mat.” Owen jogged down the steps and opened the rear of a large SUV. Gunner jumped in.

The hospital was overheated after the cold outside, the dry air catching at the back of her throat as she followed Hudson down the corridor. Cord’s room was at the end of the hall. Hudson opened the door as Owen caught up with them and stopped outside.

Cord lay propped against thin hospital pillows, an oxygen cannula looped behind his ears. A green line traveled steadily across the monitor beside him. Nora sat beside the bed in a wheelchair, one hand wrapped around Cord’s. She looked up as they entered. Sarah had seen versions of that expression in hospital rooms, beside wrecked cars, and once on a dock at three in the morning. The exhausted vigilance of someone afraid to look away.

Sarah’s gaze moved to Cord.

Four feet of water. Ben Taggart. And Hudson beneath rock and silt. Cord had set all of it in motion. Sarah looked at the diminished man in the bed. She hated what he’d done to Hudson and pitied what remained.

Hudson stopped beside her. His arm brushed hers.

Sarah didn’t move away. “Cord. How are you feeling?”

Cord licked chapped lips. “Like I’ve been better, Sheriff.”

“The doctors say you need a higher level of care than we can provide here. Providence has accepted the transfer.”

Cord’s gaze moved past her to Hudson and stayed there. “Okay.”

The door opened behind them, and a nurse stepped into the room, a tablet tucked against her hip. “Transport’s forty minutes out.”

Hudson turned. “Ground?”

“Critical-care unit. Two-person medical crew.”

“Thanks.”

The nurse nodded and left.

Sarah looked at Cord again. Nora’s hand was still wrapped around his, her thumb moving slowly across his knuckles.