Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“I can do that,” I offer.
“You need your rest more than any of us,” she counters. “You’re the one who knows these mountains. We’re relying on you to get us through this.”
There’s logic in her argument, but all I can think about is her, alone on the main floor, while the rest of us sleep above. Though perhaps she wants the distance, not wanting to sleep among a bunch of strange men. Especially men like Red. I’ve seen the way he watches her when he thinks no one’s looking, a calculation in his eyes that has nothing to do with our mission and everything to do with the isolation of our situation.
Red catches me watching him and smirks, as if reading my thoughts. Something cold settles in my gut, a primal recognition of another predator in my territory. The irony isn’t lost on me—worrying about Red’s intentions while keeping my own firmly in check. As if my thoughts about Aubrey have been entirely pure and professional.
They haven’t. Far from it.
Nothing about us has.
“Suit yourself,” I relent, though everything in me rebels against it. “But if you need anything—”
“I know where to find you,” she finishes, the ghost of a smile touching her lips.
Eli comes inside, shaking off the snow from his jacket just as the others troop up to the loft, Red, Hank, and Cole already arguing over the single beds. Eli pauses at the foot of the stairs, giving me a questioning look. “Need anything else?”
“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.