the dark, his body taut with anticipation.
The bathroom door opened, and he heard soft footsteps approach the bed. It was too dark for him to get the full effect, but maybe she was shy about him seeing her in the dark. Wouldn’t matter. He’d run his lips over every inch of that long, slinky body, and he’d have no problem whatsoever seeing everything he wanted to with his hands.
Something soft brushed his face, molded over his nose and mouth with a strange scent—but by then it was too late for Dante to react, even as his last thought was that the world’s most beautiful angel had just played him like the queen of hearts.
Chapter Three
Bumps and jolts jarred Dante painfully awake. Opening his eyes, he stared at a dark sky overhead, felt the cold of a truck bed beneath him as it trundled over ruts on what was obviously a country road. His hands and ankles seemed bound together—make that were bound. His boots lay near his head, confirming that he’d been hijacked.
Last night’s sudden and sweet seduction had been nothing but a sham. Ana St. John was a spy, a double-crosser in the first degree. He could see it all clearly now: she’d been working with whoever had taken out the sniper, and she’d followed Dante to the front door to pretend to save him Halloween night, throwing off suspicion.
All the while she’d been planning his downfall with a body made to stun. Like Samson cut down by Delilah, Dante had allowed Ana to blind him to common sense.
Love did indeed stink to high heaven.
A particularly vicious rut sent him bouncing skyward, and something moaned—not him. Glancing across the truck bed, he saw Ana in pretty much the same condition as he, only she had on less clothes to keep out the November chill. She, too, was bound, still wearing her scrubs, though the cork sandals didn’t appear to have made the trip.
Dante was cheered by her presence, but he also felt like a louse. Being happy when one’s object of desire was trussed up like a chicken, obviously being kidnapped along with him, was the mark of a truly pathetically gone heart.
He was so relieved Ana hadn’t played him. He would have felt like a bigger putz than all his brothers combined.
Ana opened her eyes, glanced around in rather shocked fashion, as he had, then saw him smiling at her. “Fancy meeting you here, cupcake.”
She blinked, looked annoyed. “This was not supposed to happen!”
“Yeah, well. Just an adventure to tell the grandkids, I guess.” He kept his tone soothing and light so she wouldn’t panic. Females were so delicate, and it was his job to comfort the gentler species, especially this darling one. He frowned. “Wait, what wasn’t supposed to happen?”
“I’ve never been jumped.” Ana glanced around the truck bed. “No one has ever been able to catch me off guard, and that’s a record I was extremely proud of. Who took us?”
“We’ll know soon enough.”
“Where are we?”
“My guess? Far from home. The air’s got a trace of petroleum. Definitely a chemical. I’m guessing somewhere around Houston.”
“Or Louisiana.”
It would stand to reason. They’d clearly been on the road a long time because his body was screaming from all the jags and bumps. He needed to hit a rest stop in the worst way. “They must have grabbed you in the lavatory, because I never saw you come out. And I would definitely have remembered.”
“First bad mark on my record.” Pure annoyance crossed her face. “I didn’t check the bath when I snuck in, and I should have.”
“Rule number one in the bodyguard manual broken,” he said cheerfully. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” He didn’t care, because she freely admitted sneaking into his room, and from that, he could deduce that this beautiful woman dug her some Callahan cowboy.
“I failed to protect you,” Ana said.
“Oh, I won’t hold it against you,” Dante said, thinking he was fine with role reversal. He was the man, he was supposed to be doing the protecting, and moreover, they’d only grabbed her because of him—she was a collateral situation. None of this would be happening right now if he weren’t a Callahan, which left very little blame to be parked at her door. “Anyway, I’m the man, I’m supposed to protect the fairer sex.”
“Are we going to debate sexual roles or figure out how to get out of this mess?”
He liked the idea of debating sexual anything with Ana, but he supposed her question was relevant. But then he had a horrible thought: his grandfather, Chief Running Bear, had muttered something about one of the seven Chacon Callahans being the hunted one. Running Bear had intoned the warning with such fierce knowledge, and Dante had always figured it couldn’t possibly be him.
But what if he was the one of which Running Bear warned? Any last vestige of grogginess from whatever they’d used to dope him disappeared, and his focus returned, laserlike.
“What?” Ana said. “You look like you want to kill something.”
He wasn’t going to worry about it now. If he was the hunted one, he’d get unhunted fast. Darkness had fallen, blanketing the truck’s path. His body felt like a yo-yo from the pounding bumps in the road, and Ana couldn’t be in any better shape. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Following you, cowboy.”
She was a sparky little thing, he’d grant her that. “For what it’s worth, I appreciated finding you in my bed. Hope you don’t let this experience scare you from trying again.”
Ana gave him a wry look. “Not at all,” she said sweetly. “I’ve picked you to be the father of my child.”
A hard jolt sent them both rolling, and covered the yelp Dante might have let go upon hearing Ana’s pronouncement. “You meant it wasn’t just about my body?”
“No.” Ana rolled close to him, which he thought was very sweet of her, very sexy. He liked women who were so pointed about their desire. “Undo my hands, please,” Ana told him.
“Ah.” Romance would have to wait; this little doll was all about business. He backed up to her, grabbed her bound hand with his and worked off the knotted handkerchief. “Free as a bird.”
Without creating any movement that would alert their kidnappers, she untied her feet. “Blast, they didn’t bring my shoes. That’s men for you. They never consider the important stuff.”
“They brought my boots,” Dante said, a bit relieved by that. He could carry Ana on his back if he had to.
“I may borrow those boots, cowboy.”
He looked at her. “Oh, no, you don’t, cupcake. If you think for one second that you’re going to take my boots and leave me stranded here with a couple of jokers, you will never get what you came for last night.”
She reached for a boot, looked him in the eye. “You may not be able to give me a child. It’s a calculated risk.”
There was absolutely nothing he’d rather do than give impregnating this sweet angel the old college try. “I offer my family tree as Exhibit A. You’re the nanny, you should know that Callahans are prodigious baby makers.”
She considered that. “True. Yet I find it highly suspicious that you’re not running. Men are supposed to run when a woman tells them they want a child.”
“Yeah, but I’m not a normal guy.”
“This, I’ve heard.”
She undid his hands, which he’d expected, since it was obvious she did indeed want to test his pregnancy prowess. He smirked, trying to look like a man who had full confidence that a baby bingo was as easy as snapping the fingers. “What’s the big hurry on getting pregnant? You have a biological clock