Page 100 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

As soon as he’s gone, my thoughts narrow on one word:arson.

A female deputy escorts me to the restroom. Inside, my reflection shocks me. My face is dark from soot and dirt, making my eyeballs look extra bright. I stink, too. Like smoke and that weird fishy smell from the bunkhouse. I need a shower and to sleep, but until they let me go, I’m stuck here.

Back in my box, Hunter glides into the room with a bottle of Gatorade and a cup of ice chips. He sets them both in front of me and settles into the chair opposite.

I crack open the bottle of Gatorade and take a slow sip. It’s sweet and cold and makes me shiver. “Am I going to jail?”

He chuckles. “Not today. You’ll probably get community service, tree planting or litter pickup or some other chore you call fun, plus a fine.”

I’m relieved, yet I still have so many questions.

His intense gaze could be an X-ray. “Who else knew you were going up there besides Kalle? Did you talk about it with anyone?”

I don’t try to explain my mindset at the time, or remind him about The Nature Conservancy turning me down and Alaska Wild refusing to help. “No. You think he set those fires?”

Hunter stares at me like he’s worried and pissed at the same time. He doesn’t answer—of course, he can’t—but he doesn’t need to.

“We need to keep you here until we know more,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“Those bombs went off while you were there.”

“You think someone did it on purpose?”

Hunter grimaces.

“Why would they do that?” I shake my head, but my thoughts just swim and my eyes tunnel to black. I close them for a moment to recalibrate. When I look up, Hunter’s face is tight with emotion.

“I don’t know,” he replies.

I take another slow sip of my Gatorade, but I’ve lost the ability to taste it.

“What about Dawson and Quinn?”

“Quinn spent some time in the E.R. Stitches and a mild concussion. Dawson’s here, helping us make sense of this mess.”

I fiddle with the wrapper on the bottle, my fingers shaking. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“That Dawson didn’t sign the contract with the mining company. That he chose to spare Soren Creek.” Hot tears burn my eyelids, but I swipe them away. “That he… sacrificed his dream. For me.”

Hunter exhales hard. “Looks that way, yeah.”

I blink away the tears as my insides tear to pieces. Emotions crash and spin in the void—fear, longing, joy, hurt, grief.

I can’t be with Dawsonandsave Soren Creek.

How is this fair?

“Not only that,” Hunter says, pulling me from my turbulent thoughts. “He saved your life.”

I close my eyes. Until now, I hadn’t embraced the reality that I’d survived a situation that could have killed me.

Hunter rises and pulls me into a hug. His chest is firm and strong. I rest my head against his shoulder and soak up his strength and the deep bond that ties us.

“We’re going to catch this guy and get some answers.”

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