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22

JENSEN

R ed’s blood drips onto the floor beside the table, each drop marking the seconds of stunned silence that fill the hut.

FBI.

Special Agent Aubrey Wells.

The words echo in my mind, impossible to process against the backdrop of Red’s labored breathing, Cole’s ragged accusations, and the howling wind outside. I stare at Aubrey, searching her face for any trace of the woman I thought I knew—the grieving sister, the determined stranger who rode onto my ranch waving around her cash with a desperate plea for help.

Was any of it real? Or was it all calculated, a performance designed to infiltrate my life, my ranch, my crew?

She knew about Marcus this whole time.

Aubrey keeps her hands steady on Red’s arm, applying pressure to the wound. Her composure only fuels my suspicion—this professional calm in the face of chaos, the way she took charge of the situation with practiced authority. The fact that she was so adamant about how well she could handle a gun. How did I miss it?

Blinded by her body , I can’t help but think.

And yet I know it was more than that.

It’s been a lot more than that.

And I’m a fucking fool.

“I told you, I’m on leave,” she says evenly. “Forced leave, if you must know. Because I haven’t been well, I haven’t been handling Lainey’s disappearance well. And that’s why I’m here. This isn’t official, they don’t even know where I am or what I’m doing because if they did, I doubt they’d ever let me back on the job. I’m here for Lainey, nothing more.”

“Fuck that,” Cole spits, his face growing red. “Lies. All lies. You’ve been watching us, gathering evidence?—”

“Cole, that’s enough,” I interject, though my own mind is racing with similar suspicions. “Put the gun down. Her gun. We need to focus on Red.”

Out of all of us, Cole is the one closest to Marcus, and he’s been the thorn in my side for a long time. Not a friend, not a ranch hand, just a glorified babysitter Marcus brought on to make sure I wasn’t snitchin’ or looking for a way out. Red was the same. I’d like to think we became friends over time, but now I see it, the fear, the idea that Marcus’s operation might all fall to pieces because of this woman.

And even though I’m mad at Aubrey, even though I can’t trust her, even though I don’t know if I believe her when she says she’s not here on business, I know I have to protect her from them if it comes to it.

Not that Red poses a threat at the moment.

“This is a setup,” Cole sneers. “Has to be. Why else would a Fed be up here with us?”

“Does it matter?” I counter. “We need to focus on Red. Now give me her god damn gun or I’m going to take it from you.”

A sinister look comes over his face. “You’re in on it, aren’t you?” he says to me.

“You’re snitching on Marcus. That’s why she’s here. You hired her.”

“I don’t even know who the fuck Marcus is and I don’t care,” Aubrey says. “Jensen has nothing to do with this.”

“Then why hide it?” I ask her, unable to keep the betrayal from my voice. “Why not just tell us from the start?”

Her eyes meet mine, something like hurt flickering through them before being masked by professional detachment. “Would you have helped me if you knew? Or would you have sent me away the moment I showed my badge?”

The question hangs between us, unanswerable because we both know the truth. If she’d come to Lost Trail Ranch as Special Agent Wells, I would have shown her the door before she could finish introducing herself. Not just because of my arrangement with Marcus, but because of what happened to Lainey and Adam. Because of what I’ve seen in these mountains, what I’ve done and failed to do.

I’d wanted absolution. I didn’t want a death sentence.

Red groans, a wet, pained sound that breaks the standoff. “Could you argue about this after I’m not bleeding out?” he manages through gritted teeth.

Aubrey immediately refocuses on his arm, her hands still steady despite the tension crackling through the room. Her resolve is impressive. “I need to finish cleaning this wound. Arguing won’t change the fact that he needs medical attention.”

“How do we know you’re not going to poison him or something?” Cole asks, desperation edging his voice. “How do we know you didn’t plan this whole thing with Hank?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Eli says, speaking up for the first time since Aubrey’s identity was revealed. “You think she arranged for Hank to turn into…whatever he is now? To attack Red? Hell, she could have just arrested us if she wanted to.”

I appreciate Eli speaking out, but I give him a sharp look anyway. If Aubrey truly isn’t here for Marcus, then she doesn’t need any additional information. I’d already confessed to her that the ranch belonged to Marcus and I was in debt to him. If she doesn’t know anything else then I certainly want to keep it that way.

“Arrest us?” Cole cries out, waving her gun around again. “I’d like to see her fucking try. Just fucking try, city girl.”

Aubrey ignores him, continuing to tend to Red’s wound with methodical precision. I watch her hands—the same hands that had traced fire across my skin in the firelight light—now covered in another man’s blood, moving with practiced efficiency that speaks to training I should have recognized sooner.

How many other signs did I miss? How blind was I, distracted by her beauty, by the connection I thought we shared? Maybe in the back of my mind I thought she was a nurse, but I know deep down it was something more than that.

Regardless, I find myself moving to her bag. I want to take the gun from Cole but not when he’s so combative. Instead, I rifle through the side pocket and my fingers clasp around a bottle of hand sanitizer. Despite everything, Red should be the focus here.

I give Cole a steady look, a warning, as I bring the bottle over to Aubrey.

Our eyes hold for a moment, tension rippling. Then she nods at it. “Squeeze a bit on the wound. It will help some.”

I do as she asks and Red gasps out in pain.

“We need to decide what to do with her,” Cole says, turning to Eli. “She’s compromised everything. The whole operation could be at risk.”

Aubrey raises a brow and I can tell she’s filing that information away.

“Shut it, Cole,” I snap at him.

“I think we need to secure her,” Cole says, stepping closer to Aubrey, gun raised, hand shaking. “Tie her up until we figure out what’s really going on.”

“Cole—” I begin, but he’s already moving, grabbing Aubrey’s arm and yanking her away from Red with enough force that she loses her balance, crashing into the edge of the table.

Something snaps in me at the sight—whatever my suspicions, whatever secrets she’s kept, I can’t stand by and watch Cole manhandle her, let alone with a gun in his hand while she’s unarmed.

I move without thinking, catching his wrist before he can grab her again.

“That’s enough,” I growl, twisting his arm until he releases her. “You lay a fucking hand on her again and you won’t be the only here bleeding out.”

Cole turns on me, fury and fear making his movements jerky, unpredictable. “Are you defending her? After she lied to all of us?”

“Right now Red is bleeding all over the floor because Hank tried to take a chunk out of him. That’s our priority.”

“Your priority, maybe,” Cole snarls. “Mine is making sure we don’t all end up in federal prison because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants.”

The accusation lands like a physical blow. I shove Cole back, harder than I intended, sending him stumbling against the wall. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“Or what?” Cole straightens, gun raised at my head, then at Aubrey’s. “You’ll protect your Fed girlfriend? Choose her over your own crew? We fucking own you, Jensen. She doesn’t.”

The situation is spiraling rapidly. Eli steps between us, hands raised placatingly. “Both of you need to calm down. This isn’t helping Red, and it sure as hell isn’t helping us figure out what happened to Hank.”

For a moment, it seems like Cole might back down. Then his gaze slides past me to where Aubrey is standing, and his expression hardens. “I’m not doing anything until she’s out of the picture.”

He lunges, not at me but at Aubrey, shoving past Eli with surprising speed. I pivot to intercept him, but Aubrey’s already moving, sidestepping his charge with practiced ease. Cole’s momentum carries him past her, and by the time he recovers, she’s across the room, grabbing the rifle that was leaning against the wall, aimed steadily at the center of his chest.

“Don’t,” she says simply, her voice calm despite the chaos of the last few minutes. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I will defend myself if necessary.”

The hut goes still, the only sounds Red’s labored breathing and the howl of the wind outside. Cole freezes, eyes fixed on the weapon in Aubrey’s hands—professional, steady, no hint of hesitation in her stance. She holds a rifle like she was meant to.

“This is who you really are,” I say quietly, the last of my doubts about her identity evaporating at the sight of her holding that gun like it’s an extension of her arm. Pure training, pure instinct. “Special Agent Wells.”

Something flickers across her face before her expression settles back into professional neutrality. “Yes. But that doesn’t change why I’m here, Jensen. I came to find my sister. That’s the truth, whatever else you might believe about me. That’s the truth and it’s all that matters.”

Did I matter? I think, but I know my thoughts are selfish.

“Why should we believe anything you say now?” Cole demands, though he’s wise enough to remain perfectly still under the gun’s muzzle. He’s still holding her own gun but if he raises it, he’s toast.

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.

“What the fuck else could be out there if not Hank!” Cole cries out.

“You saw what he did to Red!” she yells. “He’s dangerous.”

“Red doesn’t know what he saw!” he counters back, spittle flying but Aubrey remains steady with the rifle. “He could have been attacked by a…a bear. Anything! It doesn’t make sense that Hank would do that!”

Red moans on the table, his face waxy with pain and blood loss. The bandages Aubrey applied are already soaked through, crimson spreading across the white fabric despite her best efforts. His eyes, when they open, are glassy with fever, unfocused as they dart around the room.

“So cold,” he mumbles. “Why is it so cold?”

Meanwhile, the tapping at the far window intensifies, no longer gentle but insistent, demanding.

As if it’s saying…

Let me in. Let me in. Let me in.

“What do we do?” Eli asks, fear beginning to strain his voice, looking between us and out the window, searching for Hank.

I look at Aubrey, still aiming the rifle at Cole. “You’re the agent,” I say to her. “What’s the protocol for a situation like this?”

“Hard to think when I might have to shoot,” she says without taking her eyes off Cole.

“Cole,” I say to him. “Stay back and listen. Don’t give her a reason to shoot you because she will, if I don’t do it first.”

Cole looks at me, at her, at the windows. He’s shaking slightly. Scared shitless. But finally backs up until he hits the wall.

I take advantage, crossing over to him and taking Aubrey’s gun from his grasp. But instead of giving it to her, I slip it into the back of my pants. She meets my eyes, an understanding between us as she lowers the rifle.

She doesn’t trust me.

And I don’t trust her.