Capturing the Huntsman

“Why don’t I take you to bed?”

Nathan heard the double entendre in his word, but refused to let it elevate his lust. The investigator in him wanted to gauge her reaction, to know how she’d respond to his question. He’d been drawn to her from the beginning, and that connection urged him to test the waters.

“Bed is good,” she said, without giving away whether or not she’d thought anything more of his question than an innocent query.

Nathan walked her to her bed and peeled away the blankets. She looked at the bed and then to him, the sleep gone from her eyes. Her eyes flicked with fiery provocation and heat tore through him.

“Where will you sleep tonight?” Autumn asked, taking another step and closing the distance between them.

An invitation? Was he imagining the flash in her eyes? Did she want his honest answer? “Here. With you.” A bold statement.

A long, heated moment passed between them. She looked from him to the bed, to the couch, and back to him.

She grabbed his shirt and pulled him to her, fusing her mouth to his.

Capturing

the Huntsman

C.J. Miller

www.millsandboon.co.uk

C.J. MILLER loves to hear from her readers and can be contacted through her website, www.cj-miller.com. She lives in Maryland with her husband, son and daughter. C.J. believes in first loves, second chances and happily-ever-after.

To my brother Brian. Always prepared, whether with a quick quip or a plan of action to save the day.

The level head to my over-emotion and the rock when I’m floundering. Love you, Bri.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Clearing leaves from the paths around the Trail’s Edge campground leading to the Appalachian Trail was a full-time job. As luck and financial misfortune had it, Autumn Reed had plenty of free time. She hadn’t rented a cabin in weeks, not since the news broke that a serial killer was stalking female hikers on the trail. She fit the general description of his victims, which made it that much more disturbing.

She’d procrastinated starting the task all day and with the sun setting low and casting shadows, she wished she had come out earlier. The trail after dusk was pitch-black, and she knew better than to be alone on the trail after dark.

Autumn called to her dog, Thor, feeling better with him at her side. He outweighed her by twenty pounds and his build was enough to intimidate anyone who had the idea she would make a good victim. He was the one constant in her life. She could always count on Thor.

Thor looked back at her from thirty feet ahead, but he didn’t heel. The wind blew, rustling dry leaves in a symphony she usually found pleasant, but now she feared would mask footsteps. She turned in a circle, looking around her. She and Thor were alone.

She called to Thor again. It wasn’t like him to disobey, but if he had caught sight of a squirrel or rabbit, he might be thinking about giving chase.

“Thor, heel.” She spoke sharply to make sure he knew she wasn’t playing around.

Thor ignored her. His attention was focused on the woods, his back arched and his legs locked. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. What had Thor seen? Was it a hiker? The trail had been empty for weeks. Maybe it was a bear. Though it was rare for them to wander this far down the mountain, a bear would pose more danger to Thor than he’d realize. One swipe of a bear claw would send Thor sprawling.

She called to her dog again, her feet sliding in the mud as she jogged toward him, scanning the tree line for a bear. “What’s gotten into you?” She reached his side and heard a low growl in his throat. Despite his size, Thor wasn’t an aggressive dog. What was wrong?

She followed his line of vision into the woods, peering through the gray and brown tree trunks, wondering what had Thor so riled.

The view hit Autumn hard, knocking the wind from her lungs. Suspended from a hickory tree and swinging slightly in the wind was a figure wrapped in ivy vines. Were those dirty hiking boots? Were those wooden arrows? Why did it smell like charred wood? The scent was heavy in the air.

Horror washed over her and she gasped in air, doubling over and emptying the contents of her stomach on the ground in front of her.

As quickly as horror had struck, so did fear. Grabbing Thor’s collar, she dragged him toward her cabin. She stumbled, the heel of her boot once again getting caught in the mud. Scrambling to her feet, she didn’t let go of Thor’s collar. She needed to call for help, but she needed to be somewhere safe.

Entering her log cabin and bolting the door shut behind her, she reached for the satellite phone on the counter. She dialed 9-1-1 with shaking fingers.

Calming the fear that pulled her vocal cords tight, she managed to choke out a few words. “I need help. I just found a dead body.”

* * *

Nathan Bradshaw caught the call from his police scanner. A body had been found near the Appalachian Trail at a campground called the Trail’s Edge. A woman had called it in to police. A witness? Besides not having an arsenal of resources at his fingertips, the lack of a witness had been one of the most difficult parts of the case. No one had lived to provide a description of the serial killer stalking the trail, and if anyone had seen anything, the person wasn’t coming forward with information.