Page 129 of Death Valley

The nightmares are coming to an end.

I pick up the resignation letter again, tracing my signature with my fingertip. Carlos wasn’t surprised when I requested the meeting today. I think he’s been expecting it since I returned with a story about avalanches and criminal enterprises that carefully omitted anything supernatural. I needed to do what I could to protect Jensen and get him out from Marcus Thorne’s thumb. Without Cole or Red in the picture anymore, Jensen would be at high risk.

So the Bureau arranged Jensen’s immunity deal in exchange for his testimony against Marcus—a deal that’s currently keeping Jensen safe from prosecution but under intense scrutiny. At least it’s keeping Marcus and his cronies behind bars.

My phone buzzes again.

Duke misses you.

I smile despite myself. The gelding who carried me through hell has become an unexpected attachment. During my last visit, I spent hours with him in the round pen, working through the exercises a local equine therapist in Truckee showed me. Jensenhad watched from the fence, quiet and thoughtful, as I explained my idea for rehabilitation programs for trauma survivors.

People like my sister.

And I guess people like me. Even if I don’t see my trauma in the same way, it’s still there, waiting to be dealt with.

“You’re good with horses,” Jensen had said later that night, his body warm against mine in the darkness of his bedroom. “Better than most people who’ve been riding their whole lives.”

I hadn’t told him then that I was considering making it my new career. Hadn’t been sure enough myself to speak it aloud.

A knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts. I’m not expecting anyone.

The knocking comes again, more insistent this time, enough to make my stomach churn with nerves.

I move to the door, checking the peephole before unlocking it. My heart stutters when I see who’s on the other side.

Jensen stands in my hallway, looking strangely out of place in his worn jeans and button-down shirt, boots slightly dusty as if he’s come straight from the corral. His hair is shorter than the last time I saw him two weeks ago, freshly cut, his beard down to stubble. He looks good. Solid. Real.

I open the door, surprise rendering me momentarily speechless.

“Hey, Blondie,” he says, a tentative smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey yourself, cowboy,” I step back to let him in, painfully aware of my messy apartment, of the case files scattered across every surface. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“Wanted to congratulate you in person after you became a civilian again.” He steps inside, surveying the chaos with a raised eyebrow. “But now I realize I probably should have waited.”

“It’s my fault,” I tell him. “I should have done it by now. I’ve been dragging my feet.”

Jensen moves further into the apartment, his presence seeming to fill the small space. He picks up a framed photo from my bookshelf—me and Lainey, years ago during a jaunt to San Francisco.

“Doesn’t quite feel real sometimes, does it?” he asks quietly, setting the photo down.

“Some days feel more real than others.” It’s the truth, bare and simple. “At least the nightmares are less frequent.”

He nods, understanding in his eyes. We’ve both been fighting the same demons in the dark—blue eyes gleaming with inhuman hunger, the sound of something scratching at windows, the memory of blood on snow.

“So,” I begin, pushing it from my mind. “Did you really come here to see me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he says, stepping toward me, gaze focused on my lips. “Getting tired of phone calls, Aubrey. Tired of weekends that end too soon.” He reaches out, his calloused fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face with unexpected tenderness. “Tired of pretending I don’t miss you every damn day. That I don’t need you every damn day.”

Before I can respond, his mouth is on mine, and I’m falling into him like I’ve been drowning and he’s my first breath of air. His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him. I taste coffee and mint and something uniquely Jensen, and it feels like coming home.

When we break apart, I’m breathless and clinging to his shoulders. “That’s quite a hello.”

A rare, full smile breaks across his face, making him look younger. “Been thinking about doing that since I got in my truck this morning.”

“Long way for a kiss. You have something else on your mind?”

His expression shifts, grows serious. “I do.”

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