gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
She batted away his hand. His brows rose. “Regretting last night?”
She turned to him, her forehead pinched in a frown. “Regretting what?”
He hardly knew what to say, since this darling angel seemed to have suddenly sprouted a ten-inch layer of cactus needles around herself. “You and me.”
“Hardly,” she shot back. “It didn’t mean a thing, cowboy.”
He tried not to let his jaw fall open. “Nothing?”
“Should it have?”
It certainly had to him. Hell, he’d gotten on Firefreak for her! Making love to her, plus facing his greatest challenge since coming to Diablo—well, it was the greatest cocktail of adrenaline and gut-punching life he’d ever experienced. “You know me. It’s just all about getting naked,” he bragged, trying to sound like his old self, the self he’d been before they’d made love. His whole world had changed—shouldn’t hers have, too?
“Where am I dropping you off?”
She sounded completely unworried. Tighe comforted himself that that was because everyone knew he could take care of himself. “At the stone ring, please.”
At that news, she did look a little alarmed. “You’ll be out in the open. I think your family assumes you’re at least taking shelter in one of the caves or overhangs.”
“Wouldn’t do any good. Wolf will find me if he wants to, and frankly, I don’t care if he does.”
“You’re injured, Tighe. I know you don’t like to admit to mortality, but you do recall that seven goons tied up your sister and Xav Phillips just last month?”
Tighe had no intention of hanging out in a cave like a cowering dog, away from the stars he loved and the fresh breezes that stirred his soul. “It’s just a little groin pull, darling. No worries. However,” he said, perking up, “maybe you’d like to hang around and nurse my groi—”
“And a hairline fracture,” River interrupted.
“I mend best in the open. I lived in the tribe. Was deployed to some hellish places. Don’t you worry about me, beautiful.”
“I’m not,” she snapped. “I think you’re an idiot.”
Well, that wasn’t how a man wanted the angel of his dreams to view him. “Harsh.”
“Honest.”
She pulled up to the stone ring. Large rocks, one set for each of the seven Chacon Callahans, encircled a small glowing fire. His grandfather, Chief Running Bear, tended the blaze. The chief said this place was their home now, while they protected Callahan land, and the mystical black Diablos, the spirit horses that lived in the canyons. They were the true wealth of Rancho Diablo.
“Home sweet home,” Tighe said.
“Then get out,” River said, “if this is where you want to be.”
He turned to look at her. “Gorgeous, I’m pretty sure I showed you a good time in bed. Is there a reason you’re all prickly suddenly?”
She met his gaze. “I told you. I’m pretty sure you’re the loose cannon I always believed you were.”
He winced internally. This was true. But it wasn’t necessary to rub in the fact that he’d clearly failed to change her mind. “All right, sweet face. Try not to miss me too much,” he said, getting out of the jeep and managing his crutches a bit more slowly and painfully than his jaunty tone implied.
“I won’t miss you at all.” She wheeled the jeep around and drove away, apparently not even curious as to where he planned to lay his bedroll.
“Guess that means we won’t be sharing the old pillow tonight. It’s a shame, because I’m pretty sure you’re kidding yourself, my hottie bodyguard.” He hobbled around, trying to find a place to settle, not altogether surprised when his grandfather appeared.
“Howdy, Chief.” Tighe tossed his bedroll down. “Haven’t seen you since Dante’s wedding.”
“I’ve seen you.” Running Bear picked up the bedroll. “Come.”
Tighe followed as fast as his crutches would allow. “Where are we headed?”
The chief disappeared behind some thick cacti. A threadlike stream encircled a wide stone dugout tucked back and hidden so well that Tighe would never have seen it even if he’d been looking for it. He had a feeling his brothers and Ash had no idea about Running Bear’s lair. Well, Ashlyn might; she seemed to know more than most. But he thought Galen, Jace, Falcon, his pinheaded twin, Dante, and Sloan were just as in the dark as he was. “Nice digs, Grandfather.”
Running Bear grunted. Tighe felt honored that his grandfather had brought him to his private sanctuary. They sat near the opening, staring out over the curling canyons below. “Wow, this is quite a view.”
“Yes.” Running Bear didn’t look at him as Tighe gingerly settled himself against the rock ledge so his leg could jut forward for support. “We need to discuss your time at Rancho Diablo.”
“My time?”
His grandfather gazed out into the distance. Sudden fear clenched Tighe’s gut. The old chief had warned the seven Chacon Callahans that one of them was the hunted one, the one who would bring harm to the family. Was it him? Was that why Running Bear had brought him here? Somehow Tighe had known this was where he belonged, almost from the moment he’d realized River had gone chilly on him.
“Tell me what I should do, Grandfather,” he said, and the old man closed his eyes, though Tighe knew he wasn’t dozing.
“Meditate on who you are,” Running Bear said. “You are not yet who you will be.”
Tighe didn’t know how to be anything other than what he was. Some—like River—claimed he was a bit wild. Maybe he was. Certainly he liked to live on the edge, but wasn’t that part of enjoying life to the max? His family teased him, calling him more taciturn than his talkative twin, but that had been when they were kids. The military had thought he was fairly accurate and single-minded when it came to sniper skills. Tighe had earned the moniker Takedown. He’d liked living almost alone at times, when he was on an assignment. Other times he’d appreciated the camaraderie and brotherhood of his platoon. It had been a close bond, reminiscent of his tribe. “Chief, I don’t know how to be anything different than what I am.”
His grandfather looked at him. “You will learn.”
Then he left the stone crevasse, disappearing without a sound. Tighe leaned back against the rough wall with a sigh. He looked out over the canyons from his grandfather’s aerie, and wondered if he would ever get River to kiss him again. She seemed to think he needed to change somehow, too.
He was pretty resistant to that. “Twenty-seven years of being the opposite of Dante wasn’t so bad,” he muttered. “I’d rather be me than him.”
He liked being wild and free. What exactly was wrong with that?
Even
