North (The Hunt for Alan Martin #1)

Chapter 1

ONE

She was most definitely not running.

She just needed an escape from the last six months.

A timeout. Something peaceful, without any chaos or trauma or hurting people, and no, she wasn’t hiding.

Okay, maybe a little. But a remote camp in northwestern Washington State for the next three months seemed exactly the respite she needed to figure out how to mend her broken heart.

And stop calling herself stupid.

Selah Silver forced her attention back to her book, but the words blurred together on the page. Great. So much for finishing the latest fantasy novel by Victor Holt. She’d been staring at the same paragraph for twenty minutes.

She blamed the hum of the Amtrak, the steady rhythm and rocking of the wheels on the rails as the Empire Builder wound through the Cascades, early-morning sun breaking through patches of fog that clung to the mountainsides.

Gorgeous country, the snow-tipped mountains clothed with evergreen pines and firs, the deep greens a vivid contrast to the pale-blue, nearly cloudless skies.

Occasionally the view opened to a meadow where an explosion of wildflowers—purple lupine, white avalanche lilies, and pink fireweed—waved in the breeze.

Here and there, a few cabins perched on overlooks and in patches of forest, reminders of the rugged remoteness of the interior of Washington State.

So much untainted, glorious beauty. The kind a gal might get lost in—as in forget the past, dive into a summer with campers, with games and roasted marshmallows and…

And far, far away from a Caribbean island called Mariposa and...words. So many terrible words.

How am I supposed to protect you when you do stupid things? When you get yourself into trouble?

North hadn’t meant it—or that’s what she’d wanted to believe. Except, the glare in his brown eyes, the solemness of his expression, the way the frustration rolled off his sweaty body—

Yeah, he’d been dead serious.

She leaned her head back against the leather seat of her sleeper cabin, sighed, and tried to block out her own brutal retort. Something about their three-year romance being just a rescue mission and how she didn’t need him to fix her. Not sure why she’d said all that, but...

But twenty-four hours later, she’d ended up on a small plane to nearby St. Lucia and then back to Minneapolis.

And he hadn’t followed. So, apparently he’d meant his last words: Don’t expect me to show up next time you—

She’d slammed the door on the rest, but she could finish the sentence with any number of scenarios, e.g., get yourself kidnapped in Nigeria. Or better, find yourself held at gunpoint by a local gang in an impoverished village. Or, get yourself into trouble...

So maybe the man had a point.

But that wasn’t the biggest problem, was it.

Coffee. She needed more coffee. So much for the “relaxing” train trip out west. It would help if the ghost of North Gunderson wasn’t following her across the country.

Her phone buzzed. Chloe’s name flashed on the screen, her fifth message since Selah left Minneapolis. She should probably answer, given the fact that Chloe lived half a world away.

Chloe’s questions still hit perilously close to home.

Selah turned the phone face down on her fold-out table, accidentally knocking over her empty paper cup. The sleeve had Time to move forward written on it—some stupid morning affirmation that wasn’t working.

Camp Evergreen’s brochure lay dog-eared next to her book. Three months of teaching kids to make friendship bracelets, win at tug-of-war, and skip stones into the lake. No emergencies. No split-second decisions.

No North.

The train lurched around a bend, and her backpack slipped from the seat beside her, spilling open. A first aid kit tumbled out—the heavy-duty one she’d carried in Mariposa. Probably unnecessary, but she’d toted it with her around the world, so it was simply habit that she packed it.

She picked up the kit, shoved it into her bag, closed her book, and picked up the cup. Then she got up, shouldered her pack, and moved out into the narrow hallway of the train.

A glance out the window showed them winding through valleys, and ahead, she spotted the Wenatchee River in the valley below, a silvery ribbon that cut through the land.

Bumping her way down to the dining car, she found it nearly full, other patrons enjoying breakfast, the scents of bacon and croissants and coffee seasoning the air.

She spotted a couple finishing their meal and took their vacated spot. A waiter came by—a younger man, mid-twenties. Maybe this was his summer job. She ordered a latte. “And”—why not?—“one of those fluffy croissants.”

He smiled at her and went to fill her order.

Fine. Maybe she should at least look at Chloe’s endless texts. Selah was scrolling through the questions when a man stepped up to her table.

Not the waiter. Tall, well-dressed in a subtle way that spoke of money or power, with dress pants and a pullover sweater over an oxford.

He wore his dark hair cut short, and confidence exuded from him, and maybe toughness too, because a thin scar traced his forehead.

He smiled, however, softening what might otherwise have been an intimidating presence.

“Sorry to disturb you. The dining car’s full—would you mind sharing?”

His voice sounded Midwestern, easy to her ears, and she gestured to the chair across from her. “Be my guest.”

“James Cooper,” he said once seated, extending his hand.

“Selah Silver.”

His handshake was firm but measured. He smelled of expensive cologne and coffee.

And she was suddenly acutely aware of her cargo pants and T-shirt, her Keens and simply braided hair, as if she were a college student instead of a thirty-year-old international humanitarian aid worker who spoke three languages.

Maybe that was okay—for now. She’d left that woman—that crazy life—behind.

“Heading to Seattle?” He settled his leather messenger bag by his feet.

“No. A kids’ camp about twenty miles north of Leavenworth.”

She had spent most of the last month avoiding questions—How was Mariposa? What was it like, all that destruction? Did you see many casualties? And inevitably: Are you and North still together?

Now, the man just smiled, gave her an approving nod.

The train curved around a bend. James glanced out the window.

A family walked past their table—two kids in Disney shirts, parents juggling snacks and tablets. Normal people on a normal trip. She could be normal too. That’s what her therapist used to say: Give yourself permission to be okay.

Still trying.

“Beautiful country,” James said as the waiter delivered Selah’s coffee and croissant. “I’ll have what she’s having,” he said.

She smeared jam on her croissant and took a bite.

“How is it? Last decent croissant I had was in Prague. Or maybe Paris…”

“Either would be better than this, but given that we’re miles from a decent French bakery, it’s not terrible.” She took a sip of coffee. “You travel a lot?”

“Some,” he said and pulled out his phone, tapped his screen, frowned, and then repocketed it. “You?”

“Not really. I mean...yes, but...” She sighed. “I tend to show up in areas that need help, like after a natural disaster or political crisis.”

He arched an eyebrow. “And now you’re going to a children’s camp?”

“Just need a break from...tragedy, I guess.”

He laughed. “Haven’t spent much time with middle schoolers, then, huh?”

She smiled back. He seemed nice. “Do you have kids?”

He shook his head, drew in a breath. “Not that brave.”

Then he winked. And it was...strangely warm, although not flirty at all. As if they were friends.

“Are you here on business?”

“Yes. Working on a...merger and acquisitions deal.”

“Why the train?”

He looked up as the waiter delivered his coffee and breakfast. “Thanks.”

Her phone buzzed again. This time the message preview caught her eye:

Chloe

Jake said that Ham said that North is back from Mariposa.

Selah’s throat tightened. She reached for her coffee, the cup’s sleeve mocking her with its optimistic message.

And then the phone buzzed again. Aw…Chloe just wasn’t letting up.

Which suddenly sent a fist into Selah’s gut. What if she was in trouble?

“Excuse me.” She got up and moved away from the table, leaving her backpack and coffee.

She swiped the video call to answer, the screen opening on her fraternal twin. Chloe leaned into the phone, the clatter of street noise around her. Neon window signs and bright streetlights illuminated her face, those dark-blue eyes, her short blonde hair pulled back in a hair wrap.

“About time. Sheesh. Did I wake you?”

Chloe took a sip of what looked like a cup of iced coffee. She wore fatigue in her eyes, her skin dusky and tanned in the artificial light.

“No.”

“You’re not sleeping, are you?” Chloe said, knowing her too well.

Selah glanced out the window. A small scattering of houses lay ahead—a tiny hamlet en route to the larger Leavenworth. “I’m fine.”

“Still the nightmares?”

“Not as much.” She sighed. “Listen. I know you’re worried, but really. I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t seriously think that North meant what he said. Seels—he’s got a suitcase full of memories too, you know. The kind that might get a guy worried if you disappear into the bush—”

“With medical supplies and food and...What did he think was going to happen?” Selah cut her voice down as the family from before came out of the dining car into the hallway. She smiled as they walked past her.

“Um. How about being kidnapped? Again. Or maybe just, I don’t know, being held at gunpoint by a local gang?”

“Kids. They were kids. And it wasn’t gunpoint—”

“Sorry, machetes.”

Yes, they had been wielding machetes. Fine. But North had a gun—an automatic weapon and—

No. She couldn’t go back there.

Selah put a hand over her eyes, sighed. “Okay. So what is this—a cheer-me-up call?”

Chloe also sighed. “I just...I want you to be happy. And safe. And...did I mention happy?”

Selah smiled as Chloe’s voice softened.