Page 48 of Death Valley

“As long as the horses are warm and fed and dry, we’re golden,” I tell him. “Get some rest.” He gives me a steady look. “Go on. I’ll be up in a minute.”

When it’s just Aubrey and me in the main room, I find myself reluctant to leave. She’s arranging her sleeping bag closer to the fire, her movements practical and efficient. The firelight catches in her hair, turning the blonde strands to gold, highlighting the strong line of her jaw, the graceful curve of her neck.

“Something else on your mind, cowboy?” she asks without looking up. Her voice is throaty, sending a rush of blood straight to my cock.

“Keep that front door locked,” I say, forcing my thoughts back to practical matters. “Don’t open the blinds, don’t open the door. No matter what you hear.”

Now she does look up, her expression questioning. “What would I hear?”

“Wind can play tricks in these mountains,” I say carefully. “Make you think you hear things that aren’t there. Voices. Names being called.”

She studies me for a long moment. “Like what I heard the other night?”

She knows the answer. “Just keep the door locked. And keep that fire going.”

“You still haven’t told me what you’re really afraid of,” she says softly. “What’s out there that has you so on edge. You dance around it like you’re in the ballet.”

“Get some sleep, Aubrey,” I reply, ignoring her as I move toward the stairs. “Morning comes early up here.”

“Jensen.” Her voice stops me at the foot of the staircase. “Thank you. For bringing me this far.”

I glance back at her, this woman who has upended everything, who makes me want to be better than I am. Who makes me think redemption might still be possible, even for me.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I warn her. “We haven’t found your sister.”

The look she gives me is too perceptive, too knowing. “But we’re going to.”

I climb the stairs without answering, each step taking me farther from her but not from the question that hangs in the air between us. The question that has haunted me for three years.

What will Aubrey do when she finally learns the truth about her sister?

And what will she think of me when she discovers my part in it?

15

AUBREY

Iwake up with a start, forgetting where I am for a moment, my hand reaching for a gun that isn’t there. But then my eyes adjust to the firelight and I realize what woke me is the sound of footsteps on the stairs, the kind that are trying to be quiet.

I sit then twist around on the rug and look to see Jensen coming down the final step. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says softly.

“Didn’t know I was asleep,” I said, glancing over at the sleeping bag beside me. Last thing I remember was going to the washroom and having a make-shift bath using strong soap and a really cold wash cloth, then crawling into my pajamas. Seems I didn’t even make it into the sleeping bag.

Jensen crosses to the fireplace, crouching to add another log. Firelight plays across his features, throwing his face into sharp relief—all angles and shadows. I should get up, move to my sleeping bag, maintain some professional distance. Instead, I stay where I am, watching him.

“Can’t sleep?” I ask, drawing my knees to my chest. The cabin is drafty despite the fire, and I’m suddenly aware of how thin my sleep shirt is.

“Don’t sleep much these days.” He doesn’t look at me as he says it, focused on the fire. “Not in these mountains.”

Something in his tone makes me study him more carefully. The tension in his shoulders. The careful way he’s keeping space between us. The ghost of something haunted in his eyes when he finally turns to meet my gaze.

“What is it about these mountains that bothers you, Jensen?” I ask, keeping my voice pitched low so to not wake the others are asleep upstairs. “Something happened up here, didn’t it? Something you’re not telling me.”

His jaw tightens. “A lot of things happen in these mountains. Not all of them make for good bedtime stories.”

“Try me.” I hold his gaze, challenging him. “I’ve heard my share of nightmares.”

Lived through them, too.

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