Branded by a Callahan. Tina Leonard

back.

      “Long time, no see.” She beamed at him as if he was a man among men, and he grew uncomfortably hot under his black mask. “How’s the rodeo?”

      “Good enough.” He was tongue-tied, which only happened around her.

      “I’m off to take the children through the haunted house. It’s really a couple of rooms in one of the guesthouses we set up with Clifford the Big Red Dog story time and a Candyland trail. Joining us later?”

      Emerald eyes blinked at him sweetly. He could think of nothing he’d like more than to join her in a haunted house, or any house at all. “Sure.”

      She gave him a last big smile and stalked off, pantherlike and graceful, and Dante knew he was doomed. Tighe could probably pick up his heated brain waves from seven hundred miles away and was doubled over laughing, not to mention counting off the three weeks he expected his twin to last under the onslaught of blinding lust Dante experienced around Ana.

      “Have you been putting a little adult additive into the cider, bro?” Ash asked, looking up at him, concerned. “Your eyes are all glazed over.”

      “I wish. Got any?”

      His sister giggled. “Nope. Around the kiddies we abstain. After they go to bed, though, I heard Fiona’s got special libations for us. Black martinis and bloody rum punch, if I heard her right. We all only get one, so you better hustle to claim yours if you want to enjoy the paranormal experience. You’ve been assigned to the sponge piñata event. I’ve got to go shepherd pitching pennies into pumpkins.” His sister went off, throwing herself into the kiddie fray with enthusiasm.

      It was so good to be home. Dante went to run the sponge piñata, pretty certain he needed more than a howling-good drink if he was going to survive staring at Ana with no kisses planned for him on her Hallows Eve schedule.

      * * *

      AFTER THE MUNCHKIN MAYHEM, the evening was quiet. The adults sat around the kitchen, satisfied that the children had gone to bed with visions of candy corn and Clifford the Big Red Dog dancing in their heads. Dante sucked at his black martini, happy he hadn’t missed the mayhem. It really was the best part of being in a large family, which he was, now that his clan had found the long lost Callahans of his missing father’s brother, Jeremiah.

      He and his six siblings were helping their Callahan cousins until the evil had passed from their home in New Mexico. The cousins stayed here in Hell’s Colony with the wives and children, and Dante and his siblings tried to stay one step ahead of trouble at Rancho Diablo. Basically bodyguards for hire, assigned by the head of the Callahan clan, Chief Running Bear.

      It wasn’t always easy. So far on their watch, three kidnappings had taken place—two of the women and one brother, Falcon. He and his six siblings were military operatives, raised in the tribe and tough to sneak up on—yet despite their best efforts, they’d found themselves under attack, too.

      When Tighe had taken off to rodeo, Dante had joined him, though he’d felt like a traitor to his Callahan cousins, his brothers and sister and Aunt Fiona by leaving.

      Ashlyn plopped down next to him, a pile of candy corns in a bowl her offering to him. “Cheer up. The kiddies didn’t beat you with the sponge bat. The ghost piñata was popped, and candy dispensed. Good times, good times.”

      He grinned at his silver-blond-haired sister who was dressed like a sparkling fairy sprite. “How come you got to go off post tonight? Thought all the operatives were staying at Rancho Diablo to be on the safe side.”

      “Because I’m fun. We flipped for it, and Jace, Galen and Falcon came up short. Sloan got to come for the fun because his twins are almost old enough to know what’s going on. They were darling little pea pods.” She grinned. “That’s why Ana and River are here.”

      He glanced at the nanny bodyguards as surreptitiously as possible, caught Ana sneaking a peek at him. He remembered he was still wearing his black mask and removed it, figuring he didn’t need the Lone Ranger vibe anymore.

      “I missed you, you know, even if you’re a schmuck,” Ash said cheerfully. “Staying awhile this time?”

      “I’m back for good.”

      “You won’t run away from your heart again?”

      He sighed, sipping the martini, thinking it wasn’t any blacker than his hopes at the moment. “I’m in for the long haul.”

      “Good.” She looked satisfied. “Shall we make a wager?”

      “If we must.”

      “I wager you’ll figure out a way to romance Ana by Christmas.” She grinned. “Sloan and Falcon fell much more easily than I ever dreamed. You should be a piece of cake. You’re a softie and already have your target in sight.”

      He’d already fallen, so the wager was lopsided. Ana had never given him the time of day, no more than River gave Tighe any reason to hope. Only Jace seemed to hold the key to the bodyguards, and that alone was annoying. “Trust me, I’d be more than willing to wager whatever you wanted, if I thought there was half a chance. I don’t wager when the house deck is stacked against me.”

      “It’s for charity,” Ash said. “I’m trying to raise five hundred bucks for the horse rescue in Diablo. Pony up, bro. If you win—which would actually be losing, but never mind—I’ll give you your money back.” Her face held nothing but purposeful honesty. “You can trust me.”

      “Okay.” He reached into his wallet, tossed out his rodeo winnings.

      She beamed. “Money well spent. Just putting your money where your dreams are is practically a guarantee of good things happening for you!”

      His sister went off, delighted that she’d lightened him of all he had on him at the moment. Dante sipped his drink again, catching Ana’s gaze on him before she hurriedly looked at her punch.

      Well, it wasn’t the mask, he’d removed that. He hadn’t shaved, but women didn’t usually get real excited over scruffy cheeks, so that probably wasn’t what had her peeking. His hair was far too long—he hadn’t seen a barber in months—and so maybe he did look a bit wild. His nieces and nephews had lavished him with attention, a returning hero in their eyes, so at least he wasn’t completely Grizzly Adams–wild-looking if he didn’t scare small children.

      Ana came over and sat next to him, and Dante was so shocked he nearly swallowed the floating olive eyeball in his drink.

      “Happy Halloween,” she said, and he felt a tickle of something slide up his spine. Ah, yes, sexual attraction, the bane of his useless designs on Ana.

      “Same to you.”

      His tongue twisted up like the lemon garnish on her drink.

      “Your sister says you’re the resident ghost-story-teller.”

      Generous of Ash to throw him an opener for conversation with Ana. “I’m afraid I enjoyed frightening my sister and brothers whether it was Halloween or not.”

      She smiled. He was lost in her eyes and that sexy smile. “I love ghost stories.”

      He was getting a funny feeling that something was going on here. Ana seemed to be chatting him up—and it could all be just friendly, but then again, maybe—

      Nah. She hadn’t spoken to him in anything more than a professional tone for all the months he’d lived at Rancho Diablo. “What’s on your mind, cupcake?”

      She looked at him. “Cupcake?”

      He had to hide behind alpha-male bravado to save his sanity. His wisdom had been too hard-won over the past several months—and the tearing that Firefreak had given him was a reminder not to make a fool of himself again on useless pining. “I just thought maybe you had something on your mind.”

      “I do,” Ana said, and Dante blinked.

      “Oh?” If she,