Page 124 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

Sarah drove through the door, rifle shouldered. “Sheriff’s Department! Drop it!”

The guard spun faster than she’d expected. His rifle snapped toward her. Too close for her own rifle. Sarah drove his muzzle aside with her forearm and crashed into him.

His rifle discharged, and the blast tore into the ceiling. Filthy plaster exploded in a choking cloud. The man jerked under her, and the muzzle swung toward her chest. Sarah jammed the barrel into the wall. Another deafening crack that hammered her ears as the round discharged into wood paneling.

“Bitch.”

Pain exploded through her chest as he drove her backward. He was so much stronger. For one terrifying second she lost her grip⁠—

Walter collided with them both.

The impact threw the man sideways, and his rifle went flying to the far side of the room. Sarah staggered to her feet as Walter drove him face-first onto the floorboards, his knee between the shoulder blades.

“Sheriff, you hit?” Walter looked over his shoulder, panting.

She made the man’s rifle safe. “I’m fine. You?”

Walter’s mouth was a thin slash. “I’m good.”

Sarah leaned against the wall for a second, catching her breath. Walter was upright. Cord was alive. This was a win.

For five full seconds she let herself feel it. The ache in her ribs. Sweat cooling beneath her vest. Dust hanging in the yellow light where the gunfire had torn through the ceiling.

Walter secured the man’s wrists, then hauled him upright against the wall. His eyes never left the prisoner as Sarah keyed her radio. “Wyatt, the asset is secure. Three in custody.”

“Copy. Coast Guard moving.”

Her thumb left the radio. Movement caught the corner of her vision. Something flashed in the glass. Outside. A beam of white light blinked in a grimy window before vanishing again.

There and gone.

Her eyes snapped to Walter. He’d seen it too. Another flashlight. Another gunman. Downstairs. Heading for the far end of the building.

Walter’s face hardened. “You’re not clearing alone.”

“Cord is priority one.” She pointed at the gurney.

She didn’t like splitting again, but she liked leaving Cord exposed even less.

Walter’s expression said everything. “Sarah⁠—”

“That’s an order, Walter. Cord stays covered until Wyatt gets people inside.”

Walter exhaled noisily. “And you?”

“I keep our last gunman moving away from this room.” Sarah left the office, crossed the mezzanine landing, and killed her flashlight before reaching the stairs.

She descended quickly, testing each tread with the toe of her boot before trusting it. At the bottom she waited, slowing her breathing so the thud of her heart wouldn’t interfere with her hearing.

A breeze. Water restless beneath the floor. Snowlight washing the space milky and ethereal.

Nothing that belonged to a frightened man trying to escape. She moved forward slowly, searching for solid sections of floor and placing each step carefully. A sound. Ahead and to her right. Wood complained under weight.

The soft metallic click of a door latch being tested.

She followed the sound beyond the storage racks, toward the service passage. At its far end, the exterior door opened onto the section of walkway beyond the loading dock, supported by the cannery’s oldest pilings.

Sarah stepped through the doorway with her weapon raised. Outside, she cleared right. Twenty feet away, the prisoner was still secured to the upright, head bowed. Lengths of wire and old electrical cable hung in snarls along the walkway’s broken edge.