Page 16 of Death Valley

“You don’t believe that, though.”

His hands still. For a moment I think he might actually give me a straight answer, but then Eli appears in barn aisle.

“Made some more coffee,” Eli says, tipping his hat to me and giving me a warm smile. Then he looks to Jensen with a grave expression. “Weather’s turning so Red’s gone to town for our supplies now. Cole’s checking the generators. The worst of it should hit tonight night but it will be on and off until then.”

“Good to know,” Jensen says. They share another one of those loaded looks again before Eli disappears into the barn. Jensen turns back to me, his expression carefully neutral. “Better get your fill of food. You’ve earned it.”

I want to ask more questions—about the storm, about what spooked Duke, about the silent conversations that seem to be happening around me. But Jensen’s body language makes it clear we’re done, so I exit the stall, giving Duke and appreciative pat before I do so.

At the barn door, I pause. The tree line looks innocent now, just ponderosa pines swaying in the morning breeze. But I can’t shake the feeling that something out there is watching.

Waiting.

7

AUBREY

After the riding lesson I try to make myself busy at the ranch but keep feeling like I’m getting in the way. Though Jensen was fairly kind and attentive while I was with Duke, he’s back to being grumpy and pretending I don’t exist, as goes for the rest of his crew (which, frankly, isn’t a bad thing since everyone except Eli gives me the creeps). It’s such a nice day, though, and I don’t want to hole up in the guest cottage, so I decide to jump in the car and head out to Lake Tahoe. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen the clear blue waters and being in civilization would probably help me stop ruminating endlessly.

It works, for the most part. I check out some stores, have lunch at a cute BBQ place, then grab a tea from a merchant and head out to the lake, finding a smooth boulder to sit on by the shore. The sun is high in the sky and strong enough that I peel off all my layers until I’m just in a T-shirt. I try to empty my mind and find solace in the natural beauty of the place, watching the azure water dance with the sun’s glare, but my brain is tugged toward Lainey, as it always is, then to Jensen.

There’s obviously something going on at that ranch. I’ve never met a cagier bunch of cowboys (not that I often meetcowboys) and I don’t have to be an FBI agent to know they’re all keeping secrets, even the affable Eli. What secrets, I don’t know, but I also know they’re more than just ranch hands. If I had to guess, I’d say that perhaps they’re involved in some local crime scene, which makes everything about this mission more dangerous. I’m not undercover, per se, but they can’t know my job, no matter what. They would immediately think that everything to do with Lainey is a ruse and if they find that out while I’m in the mountains with them, well…I’m not sure things would turn out so well for me.

I’ll have to be extra careful. Leave my badge hidden in the car. I should leave my gun there too, but it might end up being the only defense I have if things go south. I’ll just make sure to keep it hidden in my bag and if they ask, well, they shouldn’t be surprised that a lone woman would feel the need to keep a gun on her when venturing into the wilderness with five strange men.

As for Jensen, I’d like to trust him but at this point I can’t. I might need him to find Lainey, but that’s about all he’s good for. Yeah, he’s exactly my type but I’m self-aware enough to know that I have a shitty taste in men. Grumpy as fuck, with rough hands, plus a gravely voice,andpotentially dangerous? Ticking all the red flags at once.

The drive back from Tahoe takes longer than it should. I keep pulling over, studying the turnouts and trails that Lainey might have taken, even though I know the search parties combed this area years ago. Even though I know, deep down, that she never made it this far into town. Someone would have seen her, but no one had.

How did she just…disappear?

The sun is setting by the time I turn onto the ranch’s drive, painting the mountains in shades of blood and gold. My muscles ache from this morning’s ride, but it’s a good kind of pain. Thekind that means progress. At least I was able to face a fear of mine, even though I know it won’t be that simple going forward. Yes, I can ride in a pen, with Jensen at my side, but it will take time for me to be comfortable riding in steep and rough terrain. In a way I’m grateful for the storm rolling in. As much as I want to be hitting the trails already and getting the search for Lainey underway, my muscles will need time to recover.

I spot Jensen through the main house windows as I park, puttering around the kitchen. Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m climbing the porch steps and knocking on the door.

“Everything okay?” he asks as he opens it, squinting at me, the golden light of the sunset making his face glow slightly, setting the amber in his eyes on fire.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I try not to stare at the way his T-shirt pulls across his chest. I clear my throat. “I just thought…maybe you could use some help? With dinner.”

He studies me for a long moment, then he steps back, leaving just enough space for me to squeeze past him into the house. His heat radiates against my arm as I pass.

“You cook?” he asks, heading toward the kitchen. “Cuz that would be helpful.”

I shrug off my jacket, putting it on the back of a stool. “I’m good at following directions.”

His mouth twitches at that, but he hands me the cutting board and a pile of vegetables. “Alright. Get choppin’.”

The kitchen is warm and fragrant with garlic and herbs. A pot of something simmers on the stove, and there’s meat marinating in a dish by the sink. Being here with him feels strangely domestic and easy, like we’ve done this a hundred times before.

“Where’re the others?” I ask, washing my hands at the sink.

“Out.” He moves to the stove, stirring whatever’s in the pot. Then he hands me another knife and says, “Dice the onions first. Put them in the pot.”

He’s a bossy one, but I wouldn’t expect anything less. I get to work, trying not to notice how the kitchen suddenly feels smaller with just the two of us in it.

The rich scent of caramelizing onions fills the air as I slide the diced pieces from the cutting board into the pot. Jensen stirs, the muscles in his forearm flexing with the motion. Once again I have to remind myself not to stare. He hasn’t said much since we started cooking, but the silence feels companionable rather than tense, for once.

“What next?” I ask, wiping my hands on a dishtowel.

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