Silent Hunter

Edge of Survival

Trapped on a deserted island and targeted by a deadly hunter, camp director Nicky Trailer must turn to the one man she vowed never to forgive. Luke Wolf abandoned her without a word years ago and crushed her girlhood dreams. When he suddenly returns to help her save her beloved summer camp, she doesn’t want to forgive and forget. But with the mysterious hunter picking off campers one by one, Luke is the only one who can help her get off the island. With danger stalking their every move, can Luke and Nicky move beyond their past and work together to survive?

Was it a calling card…or a warning?

“This arrow is exactly like the one you found yesterday,” Luke told her.

A painful breath filled her lungs. The Hunter was back. While she’d been showing the sponsors around the island, the same man who’d held a knife to her throat twenty-four hours ago had shot an arrow into the wreckage of the obstacle course that nearly drowned them.

“So he’s still here on the island, and he’s toying with us.” For a moment she felt so helpless that hot tears rushed to her eyes. Luke spread his arms wide and she stepped between them, looking for their comforting strength.

“So, the Hunter came back after stealing our boat yesterday?” she asked.

“Or he might be one of the four people back at the campsite right now,” Luke said.

Something rustled in the forest behind them. They both spun sharply. She searched the tree line. She heard nothing but the whispers of trees in the breeze. The Hunter could be anywhere. Silent. Deadly. Now she knew: nowhere was safe.

MAGGIE K. BLACK is an award-winning journalist and romantic suspense author with an insatiable love of traveling the world. She has lived in the American South, Europe and the Middle East. She now makes her home in Canada with her history teacher husband, their two beautiful girls and a small but mighty dog. Maggie enjoys connecting with her readers at maggiekblack.com.

Silent Hunter

Maggie K. Black

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones:

I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life.

—Ezekiel 37:5

With thanks to all the amazing friends and camp staff who helped me brainstorm for this book.

I couldn’t have done it without you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Worn wooden rungs creaked loudly under Nicky Trailer’s boots. The ladder quivered as she climbed. She was a good twenty feet up in the air, smack-dab in the middle of Camp Spirit’s main lodge, halfway between the old wooden floors and steeply slanted ceiling. The camp director’s hazel eyes glanced up at the ceiling hatch high above her head. When she’d decided to store years’ worth of paperwork up inside the claustrophobic crawlspace, she hadn’t expected the camp’s owner would ever send her on such a short-notice scavenger hunt. Especially not because he’d invited a reporter to the camp without telling her. “This still feels like a terrible idea.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, the loft’s only three stories up, and here I seem to remember a certain tomboy in pigtails once being the youngest girl in camp history to conquer the high ropes.” George Dale’s warm chuckle echoed up the A-framed walls.

“That’s not what I—” The words froze on her tongue as she caught the twinkle in the old man’s eyes. Her elderly boss was teasing. As always. Apparently he wasn’t the slightest bit worried about having some journalist poking around the day before she led the most important canoe trip of her life. So why was she?

“I was the youngest camper period, and don’t you forget it.” Nikki flashed a grin and tucked an unruly curl of long brown hair firmly back under her bandanna. “You’re not getting out of discussing this reporter thing that easily. Though if I’d realized the loft ladder had gotten this creaky, I’d have added a new one of those to my wish list, too.”

Right behind patching the roof, better sports equipment and rebuilding the boathouse. There were two months until summer camp and the list of things needing repair was growing longer by the day. Her gaze ran through towering glass windows, past the cabins, down to where the morning sun set rays of light dancing on the lake. She’d spent almost twenty years among these Ontario trees—first as camper, then counselor and now as George’s second in command. Nicky ran Camp Spirit’s summer and off-season camps, while George managed the business side. It was a great partnership that felt more like family than owner and employee.

If only our days weren’t numbered. It was only a question of whether money troubles or George’s failing health sank Camp Spirit first. His tendency to take on the neediest campers regardless of their ability to pay didn’t leave much left over for new equipment and repairs. And while George’s only son, Trevor, worked there occasionally, it was clear the young man would rather sell than fill his father’s shoes.

Which is why tomorrow’s trip is way too important to mess up by having some Toronto journalist tag along. George had invited a handful of community and business leaders for a weekend of camping on an isolated Muskoka island. He’d pitched it as “three days extreme camping, followed by a serious discussion about investing in Camp Spirit’s future.” She wasn’t quite sure what kind of investment he had in mind, but even a donation of volunteers or equipment could mean staying open another summer or two. The trapdoor slid back easily. Dust and cobwebs filled the air.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, but inviting any media up at this point is just asking for bad press.” She climbed into the attic on her hands and knees. “Do you want me to get a cabin ready for him?”

“Actually, he’s staying with me.” George looked up at her through the hole in the floor. He ran one hand along his white beard. “Mr. Wolf is coming up as a friend, not a reporter. He’s a really outstanding young man, and I wanted to make sure you had a chance to get to know him one-on-one, before everyone else arrived tomorrow. I’m hoping you two will really hit it off.”

What exactly did he mean by that? It would hardly be the first time the widower had invited someone to swing by in a misguided attempt at playing matchmaker. She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “Well, if he’s a friend of yours, I’m sure we’ll get along as friends just fine.”

She picked her way through mountains of old tarps and sports equipment. George was an old softie, but he had to know she had no intention of ever leaving these woods, let alone following some man to the city. Besides, it wasn’t as though the camp didn’t have a steady stream of healthy, God-fearing bachelors come tramping through.

Sure, the first time a cute guy held her hand by the water and said he liked her, she’d believed him with every beat of her foolish heart. She’d been eighteen then. Louie had been nineteen and a counselor from their rival camp, with sad gray-blue eyes and a white scar that curved at his throat. He’d left without even saying goodbye, and now after watching countless other camp romances flare up then fizzle out, it was clear that while the moonlight might bring out the romantic in people, they usually just ended up walking right back out of these woods as easily as they’d walked in.

A pile of old camp mats slithered apart underneath her. “Now, remind me what—”

The crash below was deafening. A wooden echo shook the floor beneath her. A cry rose to her lips but she bit it back. “George? What was that? Are you okay?”

Silence came from the hole in the floor. Her eyes glanced up toward the skylight for a second as she prayed. Please, Lord, don’t let it be another heart attack. He barely survived the last one. She scrambled to the trapdoor and looked down. The ladder had fallen over. The dining hall was empty. Hopefully that meant he’d just gone to grab something. “Hey!” She kept her voice upbeat but loud. “Where’d you go? That ladder won’t stand on its own.”

Any response he might have given was lost in the sound of a powerful engine peeling down the camp’s gravel road. She slid over to the skylight and opened it. A black sports car pulled to a neat stop beside the lodge. A man stepped out. Nicky’s mouth went dry. The visitor was tall, with tousled black hair and just the hint of three-o’clock shadow along his jaw. His broad shoulders were cleanly framed by the lines of a gray suit jacket. Sunglasses hid his eyes, while the crisp dress shirt did nothing to disguise the solid strength that lay beneath it. He loosened his tie just enough to undo his top button. A frown crossed his lips. Then he disappeared around the corner toward the office door.

This was Mr. Wolf? Nicky sat back on her heels and pressed her palm against her chest. Probably just as well her first glimpse of him was through the attic window. It would give her time to get the flush of heat out of her cheeks. She ran both hands down her dirty jeans and brushed the cobwebs from her face. Then she made her way through the maze of equipment back to the trapdoor.

“Hey, George? I think your reporter friend has pulled up outside. Also don’t forget about the ladder.”

A fit of coughing overtook her lungs. The air was thick and bitter. Thin fingers of smoke curled through the trapdoor, setting every warning bell inside her clanging. She braced her body and hung her head through the hole in the floor. Dark smoke poured from under the door leading to the kitchen. Orange flames flickered at the serving window. Panic flooded her veins, nearly sending her headfirst through the hole.

She was alone. She was trapped. And the building was on fire.

* * *

Searing heat shot through Luke’s palm as his fingers brushed the doorknob. Gingerly he placed his hand flat against the office door. Warmth radiated through it. Bad sign. Very bad sign. The faintest whisper of smoke slipped from around the reinforced door and the lodge windows showed nothing but a reflection of trees. But somewhere inside the building a fire was raging.

He scanned the campgrounds. For a split second he thought he saw someone moving in the trees. A shadowy shape in what looked like hunting fatigues was pelting up a steep path through the woods.

“Hey! Stop! Someone needs help!” The figure disappeared and Luke grit his teeth. He didn’t have time to chase after him. And, if his old and regrettable memories of teenage mischief were correct, it would take him at least twenty minutes to run to the neighboring camp. But only moments ago he’d seen a woman in the attic window. Had she managed to get out safely? Being here is a painful reminder that I’m the last man any woman would want as a hero.

Hero or not, he might be the only chance she had.

Stepping back from the door, he called up to the empty window. “Hey! I’m going to call the fire department and then I’m coming to get you out.” There was no response but he couldn’t afford to wait. Flames were now pouring through a broken window at the back of the building. Tongues of fire licked toward the sky as he pulled out his cell phone.

He couldn’t get a signal, but he remembered seeing a red emergency telephone on a pole near the first-aid station. Luke ran for it, wrapped his jacket around his fist and smashed the glass. He wrenched the handset from the cradle. “Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

“Nine-one-one. Emergency services.” The voice was crisp and female.

“I’m at Camp Spirit on rural route eight. The lodge is on fire and someone’s inside.”

“Emergency vehicles are being dispatched to your location, can you describe—”

“No. Sorry. I need to get her out of there.”

He ran at the lodge and threw his weight into a solid blow aimed right at the center of the office door. It flew back off the hinges. Smoke poured out.

Sloshing his jacket in a rain barrel beside the door, he held it to his face and entered the building. A surge of hot air beat back against his body. He bowed his head and pushed through as smoke seared his lungs. It seemed as if the fire was fiercest in the back of the building, but it was only a matter of time before flames engulfed the office, too.

“Hello! Hey! Can anybody hear me?” A voice groaned in the darkness. “Hang on!”

In seconds he reached George. The one man Luke owed his entire life to lay pinned to the floor underneath a bookcase. He was pale but—Thank God—still conscious.

“It’s me, Luke. I’m going to get you out of here.”

Shoving the bookcase aside, he grasped George under both arms and pulled him out from under it. The air was getting hotter. The smoke was growing thicker. His mind’s eye set firmly on the faint shaft of daylight cutting through the darkness, he stumbled toward it.

Clean air filled Luke’s lungs as he hauled George through the doorway and up onto the grassy slope. He knelt beside him.

“I called 9-1-1. Help is on the way. But I saw a woman in the window. She still in there?”

George nodded. “Nicky.”

“How do I get to her? Stairs?”

“No. Just...ladder.” George’s voice was so faint Luke had to strain to catch his words. He turned back to the fire as George grabbed his arm. “Please... Take...like...” A fit of coughing stole George’s words from his lungs. Tears filled his smoke-stained eyes. “Cash box...”

The words hit Luke like a slap in the face. Was George asking him to run into the fire to find the camp cash box? Or was he intentionally reminding Luke of the very worst thing he’d ever done?

There wasn’t time for this. Shoving the question from his mind, Luke ran back toward the lodge, ignoring the pain in his lungs and the heat on his limbs. Soot coated his skin. He snapped off what remained of his tie, swinging loose over a shirt now more tatters than clothing.

A woman’s scream filled the air. He rounded the corner and saw her.

“Nicky” dangled from the skylight window, climbing hand-over-hand down the slanted roof tiles using something that looked like a knotted tarp. Clever. But she was still almost three stories off the ground, with a sheer slide to the cement below. The makeshift rope barely reached halfway to the ground. He’d have to convince her to jump and find some way to break her fall. If he missed, she’d break every bone in her body.

Smoke poured through the window above her as he ran to her aid. He could hear sirens wailing in the distance.

The tarp chain snapped. Nicky flew backward through the air. Prayers for mercy poured wordlessly through his lips as he reached out. Her body hit his chest. The force knocked him back, throwing them to the ground. His arms tightened around her, absorbing the blow, as cement knocked the air from his lungs.

She lay on top of him for a moment, her back pressed against his chest. Her face turned towards him. Her breath came fast and hard on his neck. Wild, dark hair brushed against his face, filling his senses with haunting scents of wood smoke and wild berries. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“George... He...” She tried to speak, but could barely manage a whisper.

“He’s all right. I got him out. You okay to walk? We’d better get away from this building.”

She rolled off onto the ground beside him. He helped her to her feet, but they’d barely gone a few steps when he felt her fall against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not hurt. Just shaky.”

He wrapped his arm around her. “Take it slow. We’ll get the paramedics to check you out.”

Emergency vehicles poured down the camp driveway. Doors slammed. Voices shouted. Fire hoses roared to life.

“I’m Nicky Trailer, the camp director. Thank you for saving me.”

“Luke Wolf, Torchlight News. You’re very welcome.” A smile turned at the corner of his lips. Then it froze as he looked down at her face. Luminous hazel eyes looked up into his, shining like gold in her soot-stained face and sending disjointed memories cascading through his mind. His heart stuttered.

That Nicky? Still here? This many years later? Could it really be her? If so, did she even have any idea who he was?

She stumbled. Her hand brushed against his, sending an unsettling shiver through his skin. Her gaze dropped to his where his shirt laid torn open over his chest. A gasp slipped through her lips. Her eyes grew wider as she pushed him away and stumbled backward.

“Louie? Is it really you?” She crumpled to the ground.

TWO

The afternoon sun had already begun its trek toward the top of the tree line when a police officer dropped Nicky back at the camp to grab a few things from her cabin and pick up her car. They didn’t want her spending the night at the main site until the investigation into the fire was complete. Not even in her own cabin, her own bed. At least the police had no problem with her still taking George’s potential donors on the camping trip tomorrow, given they’d be canoeing to a small island and not staying at the main site. A trip she’d now make with only Trevor for part-time backup, since George would be in hospital.

The lodge’s burned-out shell rose in front of her, wrapped in a maze of yellow police tape. Her chest ached as if someone had reached into her center and hollowed it out. Her mind spun with the list of jobs she needed to get done before she left to spend the night on a friend’s couch. But before she did anything, she should probably take a few minutes to settle her heart. She turned right and wound her way through the thick woods to the south of the camps. Then she started climbing.

Her legs felt like sandbags. The sprinkler system and fire alarm had both failed. A brief conversation with someone from the insurance company told her they’d be investigating two possibilities: major electrical fault and arson. Which was worse? The idea the camp was in such bad repair that it had become a dangerous firetrap? Or that someone had intentionally tried to destroy the camp, her home? Both were unthinkable.

She took a deep breath and pushed her body through the branches. The toes of her boots dug hard into the steep, narrow trail. Her mind pushed prayers to the tip of her tongue. Thanking God that George was alive and resting in hospital. Thanking God that the fire hadn’t spread to the forest. Thanking God that Luke Wolf had been there...

As Luke’s name crossed her lips, suddenly the blue-gray eyes of the teenaged boy who’d once stolen her heart among these trees filled her mind. She grabbed a narrow trunk with one hand to steady herself as she suddenly remembered what she’d done—

Just before she’d passed out, she’d asked the man who’d caught her if he was the same guy she’d known as “Louie.”

What had she been thinking? It had been years since she’d stopped wishing that boy would ever return and apologize. Let alone feeling a flutter of hope every time she knew a man named Louie, Louis or Lou was about to come through the door. The nineteen-year-old rival camp counselor had broken her heart more than ten years ago. Guys like that didn’t just come back after a decade, all grown up in a sharp suit and tie, just to pluck her from danger.

Yet, for a moment, she’d thought she’d seen the same white, telltale scar curving along the lines of his soot-stained chest. Maybe it had just been her mind playing tricks. Everything that had happened between seeing those flames and waking up in the back of an ambulance was still all a blur.

Thick forest gave way to the edge of a sheer rock cliff. It was the highest point of the property. Nothing but sharp rock lay below, on all sides of the lookout. Yet if she raised her chin toward the horizon, sparkling blue waters filled her eyes. Dark clouds gathered in the distance.

Once this had just been the place she’d come as a teenager to meet her secret crush from the camp next door. Now, as a woman, it was the old familiar ground she’d been walking daily, for years, to pray in solitude. Below her to the right lay the glistening buildings and sparkling beach of Ace Sports Resort. To her left, she caught a glimpse of the burned remains of Camp Spirit’s lodge. She dropped to her knees and let her forehead fall into her hands.

Oh, Lord, I don’t even know what to pray right now.

Footsteps crackled in the brush behind her. She jumped up. It was Luke. The sport’s reporter had changed into jeans and a plaid shirt, but somehow still managed to look as though he’d just stepped out of a magazine. Clouds reflected in the sunglasses hiding his eyes. Faint soot still traced the deepest lines of his face, as if someone had just sketched him out of charcoal.

It had to be him! How else would he have known where to find her?

“Hey!” Luke started toward her. “How are you feeling? You okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

He reached out as though unsure whether to shake her hand or to hug her. Then he stopped and shoved his hand into his pocket. “How’s George?”

“He’s okay. The doctors only let me talk to him for a few minutes. But he seems good. They’re just worried about his heart and want him to rest in the hospital for a couple of days. Canoe trip is still going ahead tomorrow, though. His son, Trevor, is going to alternate between camping with us and being back here for his dad.”

“Glad to hear it. I filed a police report. I think I might have seen someone in the woods just before I called 9-1-1.”

She rolled her shoulders back, like a duck shaking off water. “Thanks. But, honestly, I’m not ready to believe anyone would have set this fire intentionally.”

Luke paused, then ran his hand over his jaw. His index finger brushed over his bottom lip as if trying to summon words he wasn’t sure how to say.

“We need to talk.”

She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath.

“Told you we’d find her here!” a voice boomed.

Neil Pryce, the director of Ace Sports Resort, came crashing through the underbrush. The former quarterback jammed a very large smartphone into his jacket pocket. “Sorry to leave you back there, Luke, but I had a quick email to sort and I knew that I’d probably lose our Wi-Fi signal once I left Ace Sports territory.”

So much for their moment alone to talk.

Neil reached for Nicky’s hand and squeezed like clamped-on jumper cables. “I’m so sorry to hear about what happened. A fire. Wow. Well, I guess that’s the danger you run with those rustic older buildings.”