Page 79 of Death Valley

And he probably knows she’s not the only one who would take a shot.

“Because I’m still the only one who can help Red,” she says evenly. “And because I still need to find out what happened to Lainey.” Her gaze shifts to me. “You told me you’d take me to the caves where you lost her. Does that promise still stand?”

The question catches me off guard. After everything that’s happened, her focus is singular. Still determined to see this through to whatever end awaits in those caves.

I hate that her stubbornness turns me on. Doesn’t help when she looks wickedly sexy holding that rifle.

“I break a lot of things, but I don’t break promises,” I tell her.

Pain flashes across her features, quickly masked. “Believe that I loved my sister. That I need answers. That hasn’t changed, Jensen.”

Before I can respond, a sound from outside cuts through the tension—the horses, whinnying in distress, their panic clear even through the hut’s thick walls. My heart twists, thinking of Jeopardy out there.

“What the hell is that?” Cole asks, momentarily forgetting his standoff with Aubrey.

I move to the window, peering through the curtains. Outside, the remaining horses are pacing around the makeshift corral, heads thrown high.

“Something’s spooked them,” I say, scanning the darkness beyond. At first, I see nothing but shadows and swirling snow.

Then my eyes focus and see him.

A figure, standing motionless, watching the hut.

Watching us.

I blink as a gust of wind blows snow against the window and when it clears the figure is gone, making me wonder if I saw anything at all.

“Hank?” Eli asks, coming to stand beside me at the window.

“I don’t know,” I murmur.

As if in answer, there’s a soft tap against the window glass on the other side of the cabin—deliberate, almost gentle.

Then another one.

More insistent.

Not the random tapping of a branch in the wind, but a pattern.

As if there’s someone else out there.

Someone trying to get our attention.

Trying to get in.

My blood runs cold with fear as our heads swivel toward the tapping.

“Don’t open the door,” I say quietly. “Don’t open the windows. Stay still.”

“It has to be Hank!” Cole says. “We should let him in.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Eli swears at him, but Cole starts toward the door and Aubrey steps right in front of him, the rifle a foot from his face.

“You heard Jensen,” she says, staring him down the barrel of the gun. “No one is going for the door. You stay where you are.”

The tapping continues, growing more rhythmic, almost hypnotic in its persistence.

Tap-tap-tap. Pause. Tap-tap-tap.

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