Chapter 49
Hudson burst onto the covered walkway just as muzzle flash split the gloom.
Sarah jerked backward as the round slammed into her vest.
One step.
Two.
Her boot punched through rotten timber.
NO.
The walkway gave way beneath her. Wood exploded downward. Nails screamed free. Black water took her whole.
“Sarah!”
Gunner blasted past in a blur of black and tan, cleared the gap, and hit Sarah’s attacker full force. Owen’s shouts were muffled by the roar of blood in Hudson’s ears.
He tore off his jacket, holster and plate carrier, leaving them scattered across the boards as he ran. Six feet across. The water churned with splintered timber and shattered decking.
“Hudson, NO!”
He dove.
The cold hit him like an explosion.
His chest locked and his muscles convulsed so violently he almost lost the dive before it had begun.
Black water slammed over his head. No sky.
Only freezing darkness crushing in from every side.
His body knew this place long before his mind did.
The cold. The pressure. Silt thick between his teeth.
For one savage heartbeat, he was back beneath another black sea.
His scarred lungs clenched in remembered terror, every instinct screaming to fight for the surface.
Training took over before panic could.
Orient.
Search.
He kicked deeper.
His good hand searched ahead while his injured arm lagged a fraction behind, heavy and burning.
Barnacles rasped across his fingers, tearing his skin.
A piling. Something solid. He pulled himself along it.
Broken wood swirled, striking his shoulders, scraping across his forearms, snagging at his clothes.
Ignore them.
Find Sarah.
His lungs blazed now, every heartbeat driving needles through old scar tissue. The pressure to breathe was alive inside him, clawing at his lungs, demanding air.
His fingers closed on fabric. Canvas. Her jacket.
Sarah.
He followed the sleeve to her shoulder, then her neck. His hand slid into her hair until his palm finally found her face. She drifted toward him without resistance.
Boneless.
Her head rolled against his palm, and when he drew her face near, her eyes were closed.
No.
The word ignited somewhere deep inside him. His blood was icy sludge. His vision narrowed to a thin tunnel.
Not yet.
Airway.
Entanglement.
Surface.
She was caught on something. He reached for her leg with his good arm, ran his hand down it until he reached her ankle.
Corroded wire. It had cinched tight around her boot, every kick drawing it tighter.
He forced feeling back into fingers that barely belonged to him. The cold drained them one nerve at a time, turning precision into clumsy instinct.
Come on.
He wedged two fingers beneath the wire and twisted until rusted strands bit through his skin. The wire held. He twisted it against itself until one rusted strand snapped, then another. Her leg drifted toward him.
Move.
He pulled her against his chest, locking his wounded arm across the front of her body armor. Pain ripped through his arm from the knife wound, but the arm only had one job now. Hold her.
Protect the airway.
Surface.
His legs drove downward, but it wasn’t enough. He kicked again, desperation scorching his veins.
The piling brushed his shoulder.
Thank fuck.
His good hand closed around barnacle-crusted timber as he used it to haul them upward. His lungs convulsed. Old scar tissue stabbed like broken glass inside his chest as black crowded the edges of his vision.
Not yet.
He dragged her higher, skin ripping on his palms with every pull.
Again.
Light knifed through the water. Floodlights. White beams turning the black water silver. The deep blast of a horn vibrated through the pilings. A Coast Guard response boat.
Close.
Shattered wood bobbed at the surface, only three feet above him.
He risked a glance at her face resting against his shoulder. Her lips were blue, her hair floating around them like pale silk.
His body was finished, but his grip refused to surrender the woman in his arms. He pulled and kicked again, stars exploding against his vision.
At last, he broke the surface in the glare of brilliant white light. He thrust Sarah upward first, every scrap of strength going into keeping her face above the water.
Air.
His first breath tore into him like fire. He coughed, seawater searing the back of his throat, but his arm didn’t loosen around Sarah.
“Sarah!”
No response.
He lifted her higher, fighting to keep her face above the water as the swell rolled around them. A powerful rescue light swept over his head.
Voices shouted. “Man in the water!”
“Two in the water!”
A splash nearby.
Caleb surfaced beside him. “Hudson. I’ve got her.”
Her brother reached for her, but Hudson’s arm wouldn’t open. “Hudson, let go.”
“I—” It wasn’t a decision. His body had locked around her. His legs were no longer responding. His hand slipped from the piling. Every breath came in ragged, useless gasps that barely reached his lungs.
“Hudson,” Caleb’s voice was calm. “I’ve got her, brother.”
Hudson looked at him. The man who spent his life pulling people out of cold water.
“Let me take her.” Caleb’s gloved hands closed gently over Hudson’s wrist. “I’ve got her.”
Something inside Hudson finally gave. His fingers opened, and Sarah slipped from his arms into Caleb’s.
The loss hit him like another plunge beneath the surface. But Caleb already had her. One arm beneath her shoulders, the other securing the rescue sling. He made a sharp signal toward the boat, and the recovery line came tight.
The crew hauled Sarah toward the boat, limp in the sling, her hair streaming through the floodlit water. Hands reached over the low recovery rail and lifted her onto the deck. Caleb followed, hauling himself over the rail.
Hudson couldn’t take his eyes off her.
The cold pulled at him. His legs were impossibly heavy. His head dipped as the cold relentlessly drained what little strength he had left.
Water rose over his mouth, his nose?—
Hands caught the back of his shirt and hauled him upright.
“Hudson.” Wyatt. “Stay with me.”
Wyatt slipped a second rescue sling beneath Hudson’s arms, secured it across his chest and gave the recovery line two sharp tugs. “Ready!”
The line tightened. Hudson barely felt it. His eyes remained fixed on Sarah as the crew hauled him toward the boat.
Don’t stop breathing.
Hands caught his shirt and the rescue sling, hauling him over the recovery rail. He hit the deck on his knees, water streaming from his clothes, his lungs fighting for air that refused to come easily.
The floodlights were blinding. Voices crashed together—radio calls, shouted orders, boots pounding.
Where’s Sarah?
He forced himself upright, wobbling on his feet.
Ten feet away.
Sarah lay motionless on the sleet-slick deck, her skin pale beneath the floodlights, lips tinged blue.
Ryder was beside her, two fingers pressed against her neck. He bent close to her mouth. “Pulse. She’s not breathing.”
Everything else fell away. The engines, the radios, the wind, the slap of the sea against the hull.
Gone.
Still dripping water, Caleb was already at her head, sealing a bag-valve mask over her face. “Ventilating.” Caleb squeezed the bag, forcing the first breath into her. Then another.
Hudson couldn’t drag air past the knot in his throat.
Sarah’s body jerked. A wet cough tore through her.
“She’s breathing.” Ryder rolled her onto her side as she coughed again, seawater spilling from her mouth. “Breathe, Sarah.” His voice cracked and his head dipped. “I’ve got you, sis.”
She coughed again. A ragged, desperate breath followed.
Hudson’s knees hit the deck.
She’s breathing.
His hands covered his face.
She’s breathing.
His next breath shuddered through him.
“For fuck’s sake, Sarah.” Ryder’s laugh was shaky as he wrapped warm blankets around her shoulders. “Do not ever do that again.”
Hudson’s legs were no longer taking orders. He crawled across the deck. “Sarah.” His voice was little more than a whisper.
Sarah turned her head. Her eyelids fluttered. It took her two tries to find him.
“Hudson.” His name emerged faintly beneath the mask. Tears welled in her eyes.
“Sarah.” He reached her, and her fingers gripped the front of his soaking shirt, twisting into the fabric with surprising determination.
His arms shook as they closed around her.
She leaned against him, burying her face against his shoulder.
Ryder swore softly and wrapped another blanket around them both.
Hudson kissed the top of her head and held her.
He wasn’t ever letting go.