Page 20 of Death Valley

There’s a warning in his voice, but I press on. “Of course. I didn’t mean to imply?—”

“Best not to imply anything,” Red cuts in, his drawl sharp. “Jensen’s business is his own and his family is none of yours.”

An uncomfortable silence settles over the table. Eli clears his throat, trying to change the subject, but the damage is done. I prodded too hard, said too much. Jensen stands abruptly, chair scraping against the floorboards.

“I got stuff to do,” he says. “Wind is picking up. Aubrey, it’s best you hunker down for the night. The rest of y’all know what needs doing.”

He’s gone before I can respond, screen door slamming in his wake. Red, Cole and Hank exchange a loaded glance before standing too, meals half-finished.

“Thanks for dinner,” Cole says to me, voice dripping with sarcasm before they step outside.

Then it’s just me and Eli, the silence thick with unspoken tension. I push my stew around my bowl, no longer hungry.

“I shouldn’t have asked about his mother,” I say quietly.

Eli sighs. “Jensen’s real private about family matters. Especially with outsiders. And one he’s not entirely sure about, from the looks of it.”

I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that Jensen…he’s got good instincts. Reads people well.” Eli leans back in his chair, studying me. “If he’s keeping you at arm’s length, there’s probably a reason.”

I can’t help but tense up.

“You think I’m hiding something.”

“No. But he thinks you’re desperate. And desperate people do unpredictable things.”

“Wouldn’t you be desperate too, if it was your sister who went missing and no one bothered to keep looking?”

He gives me a soft smile. “I reckon I would. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be dangerous.”

My eyes widen. “You thinkI’mdangerous?”

He stands, gathering the empty bowls. “I’m gonna clean up. Best you get some rest, Ms. Wells.”

I want to argue, to demand he explain himself. But something in his expression stops me. Something sad and knowing and a little bit afraid.

So instead I just nod, murmur a thanks for cleaning up, and head back to the cottage with more questions than answers buzzing in my head.

The winds have picked up by the time I step outside, clouds gathering above the mountains. The first stars peek through the twilight sky, but they bring me no comfort. Not with the secrets hanging heavy in the air, theirs and mine.

In the cottage, I bolt the door and pour myself a generous finger of whiskey that I got from Tahoe. The alcohol burns going down, but it does little to chase away the chill that’s settled in my bones.

I should call Diana. Let her know where I really am just in case things go south. But something stops me. The same something that’s been whispering in the back of my mind since I first set foot on this ranch.

There are pieces here that don’t fit. A puzzle I can’t quite see the shape of. And at the center of it all is Jensen, with his guarded eyes and his scarred knuckles and his secrets wrapped tight around him like barbed wire.

I need to get closer. Need to find a crack in that tough exterior. Because the answers I seek aren’t just about Lainey anymore. They’re tangled up with this place, these mountains, and these men.

And I know myself. I know what I’m like when I’m presented with a puzzle. I won’t stop until I unravel every last thread, no matter the cost.

With that thought, I toss back the rest of my whiskey, get into my pajamas, and crawl into bed. Outside, the wind howls like a lost child, rattling the windows. In the distance, an answer—hollow and forlorn, more wolf than coyote.

I burrow deeper into the quilt, trying to shake the certainty that settles in my gut with cold, leaden weight.

The storm is here but it’s only a precursor for things to come.

8

---