Dante moved to the back of the RV and sat on the edge of the bed to punch in the number to the Enforcer House. Something cold and wet pressing against his leg drew his attention to the fact that the dog had followed him, and now sat on the floor at his feet, her head on his knee. Petting the beast absently, Dante glanced toward the woman in the driver’s seat. As he listened to the phone ring at the other end of the line, his mind was chasing itself around inside his skull like a dog chasing its tail. He needed to keep Mary safe from their pursuers, needed to save Tomasso, needed to pass on the information they’d learned, needed to . . . claim his life mate.
Christ, who would have thought he’d find her now in the middle of all of this madness? It hadn’t even occurred to Dante that Mary might be his life mate when he first hadn’t been able to read her. He’d just assumed it was a result of his injuries and lack of blood. But he’d had no problem at all slipping into the thoughts of the doctors and the others and taking control of them. In fact, he’d controlled several of them at a time and with ease, and yet when she’d stormed back into the RV after he’d fed and got his strength back, he still hadn’t been able to even peek into her thoughts, let alone control her.
His body’s reaction to her nearness was another rather telling point that suggested she was his life mate. Those brief moments when he’d held her on his lap, her intoxicating scent wafting into his nose and her warmth imprinting on his groin . . . He still had a damned erection from the encounter, and he was quite sure she’d felt something too. He’d heard her heartbeat accelerate and her swift, shallow breathing. Oh yes, he was quite certain Mary Winslow was his life mate. He just didn’t know what, if anything, he should do about it at the moment. There were so many things that needed tending just now.
“Yes.”
Dante glanced down at the phone in his hands with surprise at that abrupt word. It wasn’t the usual way Lucian answered his calls to him. Usually he answered with “Speak, Dante.” But then, Dante usually called from his own phone. This was Mary’s phone and Lucian wouldn’t recognize this number, he realized and cleared his throat.
“It’s Dante.”
“Thank Christ,” Lucian growled. “Where the hell have you been? And where is Tomasso? When the two of you went missing—”
“We were taken from the bar you sent us to,” Dante interrupted. “Both Tomasso and I were kidnapped. They used drugged darts. I was apparently out for two days and nights,” he added grimly, and wasn’t surprised by the silence that followed his announcement. No doubt, Lucian was as taken aback at this news, as Dante had been when he’d realized what had happened. Mortal drugs did not work on their kind. They were flushed from the system too quickly to do more than make them woozy or a little faint. They’d had to develop their own drugs to use on rogue immortals and even those only worked temporarily and had to be re-administered too quickly to be viable as more than a temporary stop-gap measure to get the rogue bound up. Yet he’d apparently been unconscious for two days. It suggested that an immortal was behind the kidnappings, or a mortal with information about them that they should not have . . . as well as access to their specialized drugs.
“You got away, obviously,” Lucian said finally. “Are you both all right?”
“They still have Tomasso,” Dante said quietly, and quickly related how he’d got free and why Tomasso hadn’t, finishing with, “We have to get him back.”
“Where is he?” Lucian asked at once.
“Do you have a pen?” Dante asked, glancing down at the piece of paper in his hand. Mary had lovely handwriting, he noted. When Lucian said he was ready, Dante read off the instructions Mary had written down. Once Lucian read it back to him, he added, “That is where I came out of the woods onto the road. The house was perhaps a five minute run east from there through the trees.”
Lucian grunted and then asked, “Where are you now?”
“In an RV, heading northwest on Interstate 10. The kidnappers are following us. I am hoping that means Tomasso is safe for now. But you need to get someone to him as quickly as possible. I can’t guarantee the kidnappers will continue to just follow us, and with the drugged darts they have—”
“Who is this us?” Lucian interrupted. “You took control of a family traveling in an RV to help with your escape?”
“No.” Dante glanced toward Mary, and then cleared his throat and said, “I had a little accident with an RV when I was escaping. The woman who was driving it is now helping me.”
“A lone woman in an RV?” Lucian asked sounding suspicious.
“She has a dog with her,” Dante said with amusement, peering down at Bailey as he petted her again. The shepherd immediately twisted her head to give his hand a swipe with her tongue.
“Still, women do not generally travel in RVs by themselves, even with dogs,” Lucian said thoughtfully. “Are you sure she is not one of them and letting you think you are escaping while she delivers you back into the hands of your captors?”
“I’m sure,” Dante said at once, his voice firm, but his gaze was now on the back of Mary’s head as he tried to slip into her thoughts once more.
“No, of course she’s not one of them,” Lucian muttered. “You would have read that from her mind were it the case.”
Dante grimaced and gave up on trying to read Mary. It was impossible for him to do so. He didn’t, however, tell Lucian that, but simply allowed him to think what he would.
“If they have drugged darts that are that effective on us, it would be dangerous for you to try to take on your kidnappers on your own,” Lucian muttered.
“Yes,” Dante agreed wryly. He’d said, or started to say that just moments ago. It was why he’d done as Tomasso had insisted and fled when they’d heard their captors clattering down the hall outside the room where their cages were. His first instinct had been to stand and fight, but that would have done them little good when their adversaries had the drugged darts. He would have ended up unconscious and back in a cage, probably one that had no loose bars too, and then they simply would have been two more immortals who had gone missing from the bar scene in San Antonio. Escaping to get help had been more sensible. Still, it had been a terrible wrench to leave his brother behind.
“Can you keep ahead of your hunters for a while? Long enough for me to send men to find Tomasso and arrange a trap to catch your kidnappers?”
“I can try,” Dante said determinedly.
“Good. Stay on your present course. I’ll call you back,” Lucian announced and then the phone went silent.
Dante lowered it to peer at its face. Through the cracked glass he saw that the call had been ended. Breathing out a little sigh, he stood and caught at the edges of his afghan as it tried to slip away to the floor. His gaze then moved over the mess he’d traipsed through to get to the bed. Plastic dishes, utensils, and foodstuffs littered the floor, obviously escapees from the open doors and drawers throughout the RV.
He considered the mess, and then his gaze settled on a bag of chips and his stomach rumbled with interest, reminding him that it had been four days since he’d fed it. Glancing to the back of Mary’s head, he asked, “Do you want something to eat or drink?”
Shifting her gaze from the rear camera view to the road ahead, Mary frowned at that question from Dante. She hadn’t gotten her supper at the truck stop and was hungry, but that wasn’t why she was frowning. His question made her realize that, if he’d been unconscious since Friday, Dante couldn’t have eaten since some time that day. The poor man must be starved, she realized and quickly reviewed what she had available to feed him. She’d shopped yesterday to stock up for the trip home. She’d picked up hamburgers and sausages to grill, but she’d also bought fresh bread, wraps, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and lunchmeats for sandwiches, as well as chips and pop.
“There is stuff in the fridge to make sandwiches if you like,” she said now. “And bread in a Rubbermaid container in the cupboard over the television. Chips, too, should be up there. Go ahead and make yourself some sandwiches if you like.”
Her attention divided between the slowly thinning traffic on the highway and the rear camera view of the van following them, Mary listened idly to the activity behind her as Dante presumably made himself a sandwich. Doors and drawers opened and closed, accompanied by a lot of crinkling and rustling sounds.
“The coffee machine does not work,” Dante announced after several moments had passed. “What do you want instead of coffee?”
Mary’s brows knit briefly at the news about the coffee machine, but then she realized what the problem was and said, “Flick the switch on the side of the lower cupboard it’s sitting on. The switch is for an inverter.”
“Inverter?” he echoed with interest.
“The coffee machine works on one hundred twenty volts, and the RV battery only gives twelve volts or something.” She explained, then frowned. “I don’t know if I’m getting this right. Joe explained it to me at the time, but . . .” She shrugged. “Basically to use the coffee machine either the generator has to be on when we’re stopped, or you turn on the inverter while we’re driving. Just remember to turn it off after you’re done.”
“Okay,” he muttered and then she heard the click of the switch being thrown.
Sighing, she concentrated on her breathing and the road ahead, refusing to allow the image of him to rise up in her mind again. Also refusing to glance around for another peek at him. You’re much older than him, she reminded herself firmly. It is inappropriate to be drooling over such a young man. Behave.
“How do you take your coffee?”
Mary almost glanced around at the question, but caught herself and said, “Black, please.”
The words had barely left her lips when he appeared at her side to set a travel mug in the cup holder next to her empty phone holder.
“Thank you,” Mary murmured, catching a glimpse of the colorful afghan out of the corner of her eye before he was gone. Several more minutes passed with sounds coming from the back. It was long enough that Mary began to think he’d sat down at the table to eat, but then he suddenly appeared next to her and settled in the passenger seat. Bailey followed and immediately settled in her usual spot between the two seats. It was only then that Mary realized the dog had abandoned her in favor of their guest. She didn’t know whether to be insulted, or be glad Bailey approved of the man. Bailey didn’t like many people. If Bailey thought Dante was okay, then Mary’s own judgment was being supported. It was nice to have that backup.
“I made you a sandwich too,” Dante announced, and then glanced from her to the road and asked, “Do you want me to feed you?”
Mary’s eyes widened at the offer, but she quickly shook her head, shaking away the images that question brought to mind: Dante kneeling on the floor beside her, holding a sandwich in front of her mouth for her to bite from. Good Lord, how could that seem erotic? she wondered with dismay.
“No. I can manage,” she said and then paused to clear her throat when she heard how croaky she sounded. Good Lord.
Dante set a plate with a sandwich and chips on the dashboard next to the GPS, then settled in his own seat properly and set his own plate on his lap as he did up his seat belt.
Mary chanced a glance at her plate, her eyes widening incredulously at the size of the sandwich. Dear God, the man had stacked it so full of meat and vegetables that she’d have to have an expanding jaw like a snake to eat the darned thing. She switched her gaze to him to say as much, only to pause and stare wide-eyed at the four sandwiches he’d made himself, all even bigger than her own. Dante had one hell of an appetite.
“Eyes on the road,” he said and Mary automatically turned forward, but had to wonder how he’d known she was looking. Dante had been concentrating on his plate as he lifted one of the sandwiches to his mouth and couldn’t have seen her looking.
Leaving the sandwich for now, she picked up her coffee instead and took a cautious sip. As expected, it was hot, but it was also darned good and exactly what she needed just then.
“Why are you traveling alone?”
Mary glanced to him with surprise, but quickly turned her gaze back to the road. She was slow to answer the question, however, and after a moment, asked, “What do you mean?”
“Most women would not travel alone in an RV, yet you are,” he pointed out and then asked simply, “Why?”
Mary sighed and set her coffee back in its holder, before saying dryly, “Good question. That’s one I’ve asked myself several times this trip.”
“I do not understand,” Dante said and she could hear the frown in his voice.
Grimacing, she switched mental gears and pointed out, “I’m not completely alone. I have Bailey. Besides, there are lots of women who travel alone in their RVs.”
Mary wasn’t sure if that was true, but she’d met one or two women traveling alone on this trip and had been assured that there were many more than you’d expect. Personally, Mary wasn’t sure that was true. She didn’t see the attraction herself. This trip had been terribly depressing for her and had pretty much convinced her that she should sell the RV when she got home. But perhaps that was just because of the memories it stirred to life in her. She had found herself constantly reminded of past trips with her dear departed husband during this outing, and missing him horribly. She’d even left early because of it, heading home a week earlier than planned just to bring it to an end.
“How long have you been doing this?” Dante asked curiously.
Mary was silent for a minute and then said, “My husband and I have been driving south for the winter ever since he retired six years ago.” She frowned and added, “Well, I guess we both retired then. At least I stopped seeing clients. Although I still sit on several boards that I am involved with. I attend the meetings when home and skype with members while travelling.”
“You are married?”
Startled by the strangled tone to his voice, Mary glanced to Dante with surprise. The horror on his face made her eyebrows rise slightly, but she shifted her attention back to the road and said quietly, “I was. I am widowed now. Joe had a major heart attack and died on our return journey last year.” Hearing the beginning of huskiness in her voice, she cleared her throat, before adding, “This was my first trip alone. And my last,” she added dryly.
Silence stretched out between them briefly and then Dante murmured a quiet, “My sympathies for your loss.”
Mary nodded stiffly, suddenly having to battle back tears. She’d managed to get the information out without losing it, but he offered her his sympathies and she was hard put not to cry like a baby. Damn, this grief business was a tricky bitch, sneaking up on her at the most inopportune times.
Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, Mary quickly dashed the back of one wrist over her eyes to remove the few tears that had escaped. Apparently her upset didn’t escape Dante, because he suddenly murmured, “Perhaps I should take over driving.”
“No!” Mary barked, her mind filling with a sudden image of his sitting in her lap with nothing but the ridiculous afghan covering, or not covering, his bits while she tried to slip out from under him. Good God! Trying for a calmer tone of voice, she said, “No, but thank you. I’ll be fine.”
Dante was silent for a minute, and then murmured, “If you are sure . . . ?”
“I’m sure,” she said solemnly, and then changed the subject, asking, “How did you end up working for the Feds?”
“The Feds?” Dante queried uncertainly.
Mary glanced to him with surprise, but then turned her gaze back to the road and said, “I assumed since this was a kidnapping case, that the task force you were helping out was federal. Isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes, I see,” he murmured and then cleared his throat and said, “My brother and I volunteered.”
“Really?” she asked with surprise. “So you aren’t a fed yourself?”
“No,” he murmured.
“What do you do then?” she asked curiously.
Dante hesitated and then shrugged. “Some protection work, some other things. Whatever is needed.”
“I see,” she said slowly, and thought the translation of that was probably that he was mostly unemployed. There seemed to be a lot of that today. When she’d been young, most people had graduated from high school to go on to further education, work, or sometimes—for the girls like her—marriage. There had been perhaps a handful of kids who hadn’t graduated and had fallen by the wayside, but for the most part they were the exception to the rule. Nowadays, it seemed like there were a lot more exceptions to the rule. More of the young seemed to be not settling into work or a career, but wandering through life, mostly unemployed and unsettled, couch surfing their way through life.
Mary grimaced to herself and acknowledged that she was sounding like her own grandmother. She couldn’t recall how many times the woman had started a rant by saying, “when I was young.”
“Tell me about your husband,” Dante said suddenly.
Mary glanced around with surprise at the request and then turned forward again. She opened her mouth to say no, and instead found herself saying, “He was a good man.”
When she didn’t continue, Dante asked, “How did you meet?”
“We were high school sweethearts,” she answered solemnly. “My first kiss, my first date, my first everything.”
He seemed to consider that and then asked, “Do you ever feel like you missed out? Not getting to date other men or experience—?”
“No,” Mary interrupted. She’d been asked the question before. Usually by younger people who seemed horrified that she hadn’t kissed and slept with loads of men before settling down with Joe. “I was very lucky. Some women go their whole life searching for, but never finding their perfect life mate. I was lucky enough to find mine before I was even looking.”
“Life mate?” Dante asked and something about his tone of voice made her glance curiously his way.
“Yes,” she murmured, noting his odd expression before glancing back to the road. “Mate for life. I could have said husband, I suppose, or dream man, but dream man sounds stupid, and husband just doesn’t cover all that Joe was to me.” She paused briefly, and then said, “I suppose life partner is the better description. He was my partner in every sense, my best friend, my lover, my husband, my cohort in crime,” she ended with a grin.
“Crime?” Dante sounded shocked and she chuckled at his tone of voice.
“Not criminal type crime,” she assured him. “We weren’t Bonnie and Clyde or anything. I just meant, if there was a prank to be pulled, or a gag joke . . .” She shrugged. “We had the same sense of humor and laughed a lot over the years.”
“It sounds . . . perfect,” Dante said, and she noted that he sounded less than pleased to say so.
“No,” she said solemnly. “Nothing is perfect. Not even my Joe. But after a couple of bumps in the beginning we had a good life.”
“What kind of bumps?” Dante asked at once, sounding almost eager.
Mary hesitated, very old, very painful memories welling up inside her, but then she merely shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now. No one is perfect, Dante.”
They were both silent for a moment. Dante was eating and Mary was shifting her attention between the road and her own sandwich, trying to figure out how the hell she was going to eat it. She hadn’t come up with anything by the time Dante finished his sandwiches and headed back to set the plate in the sink. At least, she hoped he put it in the sink. It would go flying at the first turn or stop if he didn’t, she thought, and risked a glance over her shoulder. Her attention was caught then as she noted the RV had been cleaned up. There were no more items littering the floor. Everything had been stowed away and all the doors and drawers were now closed once more.
“Eyes on the road,” Dante said mildly, catching her looking when he turned to head back toward the front seats.
Mary turned forward again, but said, “Thank you for cleaning up.”
“It was my fault,” Dante said simply as he reached her side. He didn’t immediately take his seat again, however, but scooted Bailey out of the way, and knelt where the dog had been lying.
Mary glanced warily toward him to see that he was eyeing her solemnly.
“You are tired,” he announced. “And no doubt hungry.”
“I’m fine,” Mary said quietly.
“I can either feed you, or I will take over driving. Your choice.”
“I’m fine,” Mary repeated, swallowing nervously as she considered both options.
“You are afraid because you are attracted to me,” Dante announced with amusement and Mary scowled at the road.
“Someone has an ego on them,” she growled. “I am not attracted to you. You’re a child. I’m an older woman. I like big boys.”
“I am a big boy,” Dante said easily, managing not to sound like a braggart as he stated the obvious. And it was obvious. The man stood at least six feet eight, and his shoulder breadth was breathtaking. He was like a wall beside her, even on his knees.
“I meant a grown-up,” she said irritably.
“I am older than I look,” he assured her mildly. “And I know you are attracted to me. Your heart rate and breathing pick up every time I am near you.”
Mary glanced at him sharply at that comment, and froze when she noted that the silver flecks in his black eyes appeared to have at least doubled in number. It almost seemed like they were glowing too, she noted faintly.
“The road,” he reminded her and Mary tore her gaze from him to concentrate on the road again, but she couldn’t get his eyes out of her mind. She’d never seen eyes like his before. So deep and dark and beautiful at first, and now glowing with silver like fine jewels.
“You must eat,” Dante announced and her sandwich suddenly appeared in front of her face.
Mary peered at it reluctantly, but shook her head.
“Come,” he coaxed, pressing it against her lips. “If you will not let me feed you, I will take your place at the wheel. I will lift you up, slip under you and take over driving.”
Mary actually felt the way her heart jumped at the suggestion. It then began to beat away at an accelerated rate that was almost scary. She had an old ticker. It shouldn’t be this active.
“See?” There was no mistaking the satisfaction in Dante’s voice. “Your heartbeat is racing at the thought of my hands on you.”
“My heart is racing with anger at your insolence,” she countered shortly. “Did no one ever teach you to respect your elders?”
“Mary, you must—”
“Your friends are dropping back,” Mary interrupted and Dante immediately lowered the sandwich and turned his gaze to the rear camera view. They both watched silently as the van behind them grew smaller on the screen. It had grown to about half size when a pickup pulled in front of it and between them.
“Do you think they’re giving up on you?” she asked.
“I am not sure. I must call Lucian to see if they got Tomasso out,” he muttered and set her sandwich back on the dashboard before standing to move to the back of the RV.
Mary relaxed a little the moment he wasn’t hovering at her side. Honestly, the man was just overwhelming. His size, his scent, and his sexy deep voice with its charming accent . . . everything about him was distracting and overwhelming. So much so that she was hoping that his followers were giving up and letting him go. If so, it meant she could soon be rid of him. A good thing, she assured herself, ignoring the disappointment that the thought of his leaving brought up in her.
Her gaze slid to the rear camera view and she squinted as she noted that someone seemed to be leaning out of the passenger window of the pickup behind them. The image was all different shades of gray and she couldn’t be sure, but it almost looked like the person was aiming a gun at the RV. Not a gun, she thought in the next moment, more like a crossbow or something maybe.
“Dante,” she said with alarm, afraid they were perhaps with the van and were about to shoot out the tires on the RV or something.
“What is it?” Dante asked, his voice growing nearer.
Mary opened her mouth to answer, but then paused uncertainly. The person had slid back into the pickup and it was now dropping back too. The RV tires were all still intact as far as she could tell, so she gathered they hadn’t been shot out.
“Mary, the road!” Dante cried suddenly and she switched her gaze back to the road to see that in her distraction she’d been steering to the right, toward the shoulder of the road. In fact she was already on the white line. Heart jumping in alarm, she quickly steered back to the left. Once she had it straightened out in the center of the lane, she let her breath out on a slow sigh.
Dante relaxed beside her and then leaned past her to set her phone back in the holder.
“Did they get your brother out?” she asked quietly.
“I do not know. Lucian did not answer,” Dante said unhappily. “I left a message for him to call me.”
“What are you doing?” Mary asked with alarm when he dropped to his knees next to her again.
“I am going to feed you,” he said firmly.
“Dante—” she began in a warning tone.
“You need to eat,” he interrupted sternly, picking up one half of her sandwich and turning toward her.
“I will eat,” she said quickly. “You can take over driving at the next gas station.”
“Mary, we cannot stop,” he said solemnly. “It is too risky.”
“Your friends have dropped back so far I can’t even see their lights anymore,” she countered, and then added, “We have to stop, Dante. We’re almost out of gas.”
“What?” he asked with alarm and glanced to the gas gauge to see that it was nearly on empty.
“Why is it so low?” he asked, sounding shocked that she would let that happen.
“Because I didn’t get gas before leaving the truck stop as I intended,” Mary said dryly. “I didn’t get the chance. I wasn’t driving.”
When he merely stared at her, worry on his face, she said, “They’ve dropped back. I think they’ve given up on us. For all we know they’ve pulled off the highway and turned back to head to the house where you were kept,” she pointed out.
“But what if they are just feigning giving up?” he asked with a frown. “They could just be letting us think they have given up in hopes that we’ll stop somewhere and they can catch us unawares.”
Mary’s mouth tightened at the suggestion, and she glanced to the rear camera view, wishing it had telescoping abilities so that she could see if they were still back there or not. It didn’t, however, and after a moment she sighed and said, “We’ll have to take the risk. We need gas.”
Cursing, Dante stood and set her sandwich back on her plate, then glanced around as if for a spare gas tank they might use.
“According to the Garmin there’s a gas station not too far ahead. We should make it there,” she added hopefully and couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed until now that they were so seriously low on gas. She usually kept an eye on it. Of course, this wasn’t your usual day, she excused herself. Besides, she wasn’t lying; she had intended to get gas at the truck stop. At least she had before she’d found Dante naked in her bedroom bleeding all over the place. After that she hadn’t thought of it once.
“You have no back windows,” Dante announced suddenly, as if that might have escaped her notice. “If you had back windows I could—”
“You could what?” she asked curiously when he paused. When he didn’t respond at once, she glanced around to see that he was poking at the air vent in the ceiling next to the dinette table. It looked like he was considering it as an escape route or something. She had no idea why. The man couldn’t possibly fit through it. Besides, where did he think he was escaping to?
“No good,” he muttered and moved back between the seats.
A glance showed her that he was now eyeing the passenger side window with interest. Even as she noted that, he settled in the passenger seat and then opened his window. The screen followed, sliding smoothly to the side.
Mary considered the hole it left and thought that he might very well fit through it. She just had no idea why he’d want to. Where did he want to go? He was safer inside than out . . . at least until his kidnappers broke in and shot them full of darts.
“How far until the gas station?” Dante asked suddenly.
Mary glanced to the GPS and frowned. “Maybe five minutes.”
Dante nodded and then turned to lean out the window and peer up.
“What are you thinking?” she asked with concern.
Dante settled back in his seat and glanced around to explain, “If they are feigning their lack of interest and do suddenly appear when we stop for gas, they could shoot me with their darts as soon as I opened the door,” he pointed out. “We would not have a chance.”
Mary bit her lip at his words, knowing he was probably right.
“However, they would not expect me to be on the roof of the RV,” he pointed out.
“The roof?” she squawked with amazement.
“Si. If I slip up on the roof now, I can watch for them while you get the gas. Then if they do suddenly appear, I can—”
“You are not getting up on the damned roof,” Mary interrupted with dismay.
“Mary,” he said solemnly. “We need to stop for gas, and for us to do so, I must get up on the roof.”
“How the hell is your being on the roof going to help us get gas?” she asked with disbelief.
He hesitated, but then sighed and explained, “If I can see them, I can take control of their minds and make them keep their distance or perhaps even capture them. But I must do so without their seeing me, else they will shoot me with one of their darts and all will be lost.” He glanced to the side mirror again and added, “It should be all right. They cannot possibly see me in the dark from as far back as they are now, and they will not be expecting this so I should have the time I need to slip into their minds and take control before they spot me and shoot.”
Mary tore her gaze from him and back to the road ahead, her mind filled with disbelief. After a moment, she heaved a sad sigh and shook her head. Of course, she’d run over the crazy guy. Gorgeous, but completely bonkers was her diagnosis. Such a shame.
Clearing her throat, she finally spoke in soothing tones. “Dante, I think maybe you hit your head when I ran you over. Why don’t we—Dante!” Mary gasped as she looked over to see his head and bare chest disappearing out of the window. The rest of his nakedness was following.
Mary reached instinctively toward him, but stopped and straightened the wheel when the RV swerved with her. Cursing, she shifted her gaze from the road, to each of the mirrors and then the rear camera view, but of course, none of them showed a view of the roof of the RV. Fortunately, none of them showed a naked-ass man rolling away from the RV after tumbling from the roof either, she thought and tossed a scowl toward the colorful afghan that was now pooled on the floor in front of the passenger seat.
“Down Bailey,” she ordered firmly when the dog jumped up onto the seat to peer curiously out the window after their absent guest. The dog jumped down at once to sit on the afghan and Mary shook her head, thinking with irritation that she really should have made him put on some damned clothes. He was obviously crazy and incapable of looking after himself. Why hadn’t she insisted he go to the bedroom and get some of her husband’s clothes and put them on, she asked herself grimly. But knew the answer was that she’d been reluctant to see anyone in her Joe’s clothes. She hadn’t even been ready to remove them from the RV and give them to charity, as she should have. It had been a year, and she still hadn’t removed a single item of his from either their home or the RV. She’d clung on to them as if keeping them meant he wasn’t really gone and that he would walk through the door one day with hugs and kisses and flowers.
Her gaze lifted to the ceiling of the RV as the sounds of movement overhead reached her ears. Dante was moving along the roof of the RV. Dear God, she had a naked-ass man on her roof! That thought kept screaming through her head as her gaze continually shot from road, to mirror, to mirror, to camera screen, but it went suddenly silent when she spotted the lights of the gas station ahead.