Page 87 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

Sarah followed his logic. “And if the cabin’s empty?”

“Then whoever took her already knows we’re looking.”

She blew out a slow breath. “Okay.” She looked at Walter. “You, me, and Hudson clear the cabin. Miller, cover the rear exit. Nobody comes out behind us. Statton stays with Cord. If anyone approaches from the road, you call it in.”

The deputies moved without hesitation.

Hudson caught her hand before she could step away. “You should stay with Statton.”

She looked down at his hand, then back at him. “You promised.”

His mouth flattened. “I know what I promised.”

“So keep it.”

A long beat passed between them, and everything else fell away.

“I need you to trust me, Hudson.”

His eyes searched hers. For a second she thought he might throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to the cruiser.

He dragged a hand across his mouth. “Fine, but you stay behind me.” The line of his shoulders was set. “And Walter.”

He was trying. That was all she’d asked.

She turned her hand beneath his until their fingers met for the briefest second. “Deal.”

He let go. “I’m serious.”

“I know.” She held his gaze. “I’m coming home with you.”

The hard line of his mouth softened. “See that you do.”

36

Hudson moved first.

The snow was knee-deep between the tree line and the cabin, muffling any sound. Sarah was exactly where she’d agreed to be, behind him and Walter. He made himself wait before checking on her, but if he didn’t look back soon, he’d lose his damn mind. He needed to know she wasn’t pushing past what her body could do.

When he looked, she was pale beneath the bruising, moving with the careful economy of a woman who knew exactly how much her body had left to give and was rationing it. She caught him looking and gave him a flat stare that said everything it needed to.

Fifty yards became thirty. Twenty.

Somewhere deeper in the trees, a branch cracked.

Hudson froze.

His gun came up, sights snapping toward the sound. Walter dropped to a crouch, rifle covering the trees. To Hudson’s left, snow sifted loose from a high branch and drifted through the pines.

Nothing moved.

Hudson waited another three seconds, then he lowered the muzzle by a fraction.

“Wind,” Walter murmured.

“Maybe.” Hudson started forward again.

The structure resolved itself into detail as they closed—a hunting cabin, built low against the weather. Log walls blackened from decades of storms. A single window on the near side, curtained from inside with something dark.