the canyons. The flashlight was on the ground, pointing its beam toward black nothingness. Taylor picked it up and switched it off. She stayed completely still, listening.
There were three obvious scenarios here. Taylor considered her options. One, Falcon had brought her out here on a lark to give her a good scare, so she’d jump into his arms when he “rescued” her.
Fat chance. She wasn’t falling for that.
Two, he’d stepped into a crevasse of some kind, which had happened around here. Caves abounded in this area, and it was possible he’d simply disappeared into some hole—or they were nearer a canyon than he’d realized. But she’d have heard noise if he’d rolled down a gorge.
She discarded that notion. If he’d fallen into something, they were both in trouble because he had his truck keys. And she had no idea where she was, so walking back was out of the question. No one knew where they were, so this could turn into a tricky situation.
Next scenario: someone or something had grabbed him. Again, entirely unlikely, as Taylor felt certain she’d have heard signs of a struggle. A man as big as Falcon couldn’t be easily dragged off in utter silence, and there would certainly be tracks.
Still, no matter what, she was in a less than desirable situation.
She could walk back to his truck and hope he hadn’t locked it. There’d been a rifle on the rack, and likely he had bullets close by. She was a proficient shot, so she’d at least be safe.
Taylor swung the flashlight around her one last time, peering at the ground, making certain she didn’t step into Falcon’s possible Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole—and that’s when she heard the definite sounds of all-out war.
She ran to the truck, grabbed the rifle, saw a box of ammo she gratefully snatched several bullets out of, and took off toward the ruckus. She tripped over something—probably an innocent rock—and forced herself to gather her wits enough to load ammo into the weapon. She crept forward, amazed when she spied Falcon fighting with an enormous man at the mouth of a cave, with two women acting as lookouts and one other male waiting to take a swing at Falcon.
Taylor took aim at the second man’s foot, squeezed off a shot. He screamed and clutched his foot, and the two women pulled guns, crouching. When the big man’s attention was caught by his friend’s distress, he hesitated, and Falcon smashed him into a wall. The man slumped to the ground.
She liked these odds better. Taylor came out of hiding and walked into the cave, pointing the rifle at the two women. “Falcon’s going to take your guns, ladies. I’m an excellent markswoman, so my best advice is for you to go sit back there, and take your bleeding friend with you.”
“I thought you’d never come,” Falcon said.
Taylor kept the rifle leveled at the two women, who headed off as she’d demanded. “You said we were ghost hunting. You didn’t say you were looking for trouble in the flesh.”
The big man on the ground began to revive, which seemed to encourage the man who’d removed his boot to stare at his bleeding foot. “You shot off my big toe,” he told Taylor. “You’ll be sorry.”
She shrugged. “You’ve got one big toe left for balance. Keep talking, and I’ll fix that.”
“She’s a tough one,” Falcon told the four glaring at them. “I could have told you that. At any rate, we’ll be going now. Would like to say it’s been a pleasure, Uncle Wolf, but as always, it really hasn’t.”
He dragged Taylor from the cave.
“They’re going to follow us,” she said, gasping as they ran.
“It’s okay. I’ve got some discouragement.” He fired a few rounds from a gun she hadn’t realized he was carrying, so Taylor concentrated on getting to the truck.
“Give me your keys,” Taylor said. “I’m driving.”
“I like a take-charge woman.” Falcon tossed her his keys and they jumped into the vehicle. Taylor shoved the key into the ignition, roared the engine to life and took off, praying no shots hit their tires or windows.
“This date didn’t turn out the way I’d planned,” Falcon said. “It’s usually a little more exciting.”
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“Take me to the ranch,” Falcon said. “My family will fix me right up.”
She hit the main road, barreling toward Rancho Diablo. “Whatever you say.”
“You know you want to go out with me again.”
He was incorrigible. “Did I hear you call that man ‘uncle’?”
“Yeah. Uncle Wolf is the black sheep of the family. Don’t concern yourself with him. We don’t have to invite him to the wedding.”
She tried not to laugh out loud. Falcon was just so ridiculous. “I’m not marrying a man whose uncle tries to kill him.”
“Why not? We make a great team. Has it occurred to you that maybe you’re meant to be my guardian angel?”
Taylor pulled into the Callahan ranch, stopped the truck and looked at him. “You’re bleeding a bit more than your aunt Fiona is used to seeing, I’m sure. Have a towel in the truck?”
“It’s all right. Fiona’s used to a few bumps and bruises. She doesn’t panic.”
Taylor could believe that. Between the six Callahans, and now their cousins, Fiona had probably seen her fair share of scuffed-up men. Taylor followed him into the house. “I guess that’s good.”
“Stick with me,” he told her. “Life is an adventure.”
“You don’t say.” She stared at Falcon, who was bruised and bleeding, but still the most handsome rascal she’d ever laid eyes on. “How could I ever refuse that offer?”
She wouldn’t—and he knew it.
* * *
S O AS FIRST DATES WENT, it was a bit of a bust. Falcon readily admitted that. Still, Taylor had surprised him, even though she was known to be a capable, spirited woman.
He didn’t think he’d made a great impression tonight. Of course he hadn’t. And when Taylor told her mother and Jillian what had happened, he wasn’t exactly going to come off as knight-in-shining-armor material.
“That’s enough henpecking,” he told his brother Galen, who was stitching the split skin above his right eye, where Wolf apparently had delivered a decent shot. “It’s just a little knick.”
Taylor leaned close. “Maybe more than a knick. Better sit still. Your brother’s doing a pretty good job.”
He smirked sourly, but minded the advice. He liked Taylor standing near him, and maybe if he sat still, she’d stay close.
“What did Uncle Wolf want?” Ash handed him a glass of whiskey he didn’t really want, but when Taylor accepted a goblet of wine, he decided to be a good sport, too. Couldn’t hurt to appear social; this was supposed to be a date, after all.
“He shared some dissatisfaction about the treatment he received from Sloan.” He glanced over at his brother, who shrugged. Sloan was uncharacteristically mellow, despite the reference to Wolf kidnapping Kendall months ago.
Kendall smiled at Taylor. “Did Wolf have his dynamic duo with him? Two women who are generally unpleasant and have a thing for stealing great footwear?”
“Two women and another man. They didn’t inquire about my boots, but honestly, plain brown Ropers might not be their thing.”
Taylor leaned in to look at Galen’s handiwork again, and Falcon caught a whiff of a sweet floral fragrance. He batted his brother away so only Taylor was close to him. “Let’s go for a drive.”
She