Chapter Two

      The next afternoon, River sat in the bleachers at the rodeo, waiting for Tighe to get himself squished. Jace seemed certain his brother couldn’t ride very well. River had no reason to doubt Jace and Ash’s reasoning for trying to stop Tighe, or their aunt Fiona’s, for that matter, although Fiona’s motives could be suspect at times.

      After Tighe made love to her last night, he’d kissed her, told her she was darling and cute as a button, and that he’d think about her every second today, except when he was on the back of Firefreak.

      Tighe was, in a word, an ass.

      Jace slid onto the bleacher next to her, handing her some popcorn.

      “Hey,” he said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

      “Yeah. You, too.” She overlooked the corny greeting, her gaze searching for Tighe among the cowboys in the arena.

      “Funny thing. I lost sight of my brother last night.”

      “Did you?” River didn’t dare glance his way. The Callahans might have hatched a plot to keep Tighe off his nemesis, but she’d been completely unable to resist his charming persuasion.

      “I did. Tighe was nowhere to be found.” Jace shook his head. “I think I might have sipped a little too liberally from Tighe’s libation. My head’s killing me.” He handed her a soda off a cardboard tray he’d carried into the bleachers. “You didn’t see him?”

      She shook her head. It wasn’t a total fib—she hadn’t seen Tighe in the darkness. But she’d felt him, and he’d made glorious love to her that she’d remember for days.

      “Don’t know where he went. I looked for him near the pens, but no one’s seen him.” Jace shrugged. “He hasn’t scratched, either, which is a bad sign that our plan didn’t work.”

      “Your plan,” River said. “I refuse to take further part in keeping Tighe from his...goal.”

      Jace glanced at her. “I don’t blame you. He’s a rascal.”

      “You’re all rascals. Including your sister, Ashlyn, and your aunt Fiona.”

      Jace laughed. “No argument there. But we’re doing what’s best for him. Ever since Tighe was little, he thought he was a big shot.”

      “How is he different from, say, you?”

      “Because I can do what I brag about. Tighe isn’t Dante. He isn’t smart like Galen. He’s not tough like Ash. If it’s true what Grandfather Running Bear says about one of us being the hunted one, the one who’ll bring destruction to the family, it’d be Tighe. He’s always on a quest, but he never quite achieves it. You get what I’m saying?”

      “I don’t want to talk about it,” River said, “I’ve worked for the Callahans for quite a while. I know the drill.”

      “I wouldn’t have thought you’d feel guilty, River. Your job is to be a bodyguard. Protecting Callahans is what you do, right?” Jace leaned back, a popcorn-eating philosopher. “Protecting Tighe from himself is no different from your normal job description.”

      “Whatever.” River’s nerves were jangling. “I don’t feel guilty, just for the record.”

      “You did the best you could.”

      “Shush, Jace,” she said, “I can’t hear the announcer. I don’t want to miss Tighe ride.”

      “True, if we blink we’ll miss him,” Jace said, laughing.

      “You guys are mean. Tighe’s on a mission.” River felt compelled to stand up for him, even if she’d been part of the plot to keep him off the bounty bull. Secretly, she hoped Tighe met his desired goal, whatever it was that urged him on—because then...

      Then he might want to settle down like his Callahan brothers, Sloan, Falcon and Dante.

      That was treacherous thinking. One night of sexy lovemaking didn’t mean anything—at least, it probably hadn’t to Tighe.

      But it had to her. If the opportunity presented itself again, she doubted she’d refuse another night in Tighe’s arms.

      In fact, she knew she wouldn’t.

      She might even instigate it.

      * * *

      IT WAS TIME: the moment of truth. Either he could take it or he couldn’t; it was time to find out if he could pin the tail on the donkey.

      “Good luck,” said Galen, who’d come out to watch his fall from grace. But Tighe had told him in no uncertain terms that he was going to stay on Firefreak for the whole eight seconds, come hell or high water.

      “Thanks.” He took a deep breath, approached the chute. “Is River watching?”

      “I’m sure she has every intention of watching you win the buckle, bro,” Galen said, and Tighe swallowed hard.

      “Great.” He had to make eight seconds. What price being a hero? Priceless, no matter how many bruised ribs. He got on the chute amid muttered encouragement from the other cowboys helping load up Firefreak’s slayer. He mounted the massive body, which had been relatively still until he seated himself, and began wrapping his hand—then crashes, curses and fear rang through his ears in a tunnel of mindless noise. He nodded, the chute jerked open and Firefreak burst into action.

      Tighe stared up at the arena ceiling, shocked to find himself on his back. A bullfighter yelled, helped guide him in a headlong rush to the corral side as Tighe gasped from the pain flooding his leg. Firefreak danced a wild jig of triumph before being chased from the ring.

      Tighe glanced at the time.

      Three seconds. He’d made it three seconds.

      And he was pretty certain he’d done something to his leg. Heat and white-hot pain shot up to his groin. Worse, he’d proved his family right—in front of River.

      “Are you all right, Tighe?” River asked, suddenly at his side as Galen checked him over.

      Tighe stumbled toward a bench and let his brothers help him out of his gear. “I’m fine. Nothing damaged but my pride.”

      “And his leg,” Galen announced. “Brother, you’re going to be bed-bound for a while.”

      “I’m fine.” Tighe was bothered that he hadn’t had the epiphany he’d been expecting while on Firefreak. True, Dante had been known to exaggerate—and maybe he’d even told a wee fib just to goad Tighe on. But Dante had sworn to his siblings that for the few seconds he’d been on that bull, he’d been absolutely, mindlessly free of his demons.

      “You’re not fine.” Galen moved a practiced hand over his leg, divining what would take other doctors X-rays to learn. “You have a fracture, brother. And a groin tear. You’ll be out of commission a good six