Chapter 3

3

Those three punks had flat-out beaten the shit out of him.

Brandt Barratt, formerly of Finley Creek, Texas, was starting to think Masterson County, Wyoming, might not have been the best choice of locations to build his empire.

It was almost like it was cursed or something.

At least for him. He was six foot six, three hundred pounds, and a third dan in taekwondo. He shouldn't have been taken down that easily. If one asshole hadn't come out from nowhere with a damned ball bat and slugged him with it, he wouldn't have been. Brandt had been winning the fight until that moment.

He just hadn't seen the asshole in the darkness.

"Help!" He'd managed to get himself to his feet, outside the barn that was all that had stood on the far edge of land he'd bought as close to the Talley Inn as he could get. And then he'd made it to his truck. He loved that truck and had since the moment he'd bought it his first time in Masterson. He had a sentimental attachment to it, after all.

Those assholes had taken the ball bat or something to the front of it. It was going to cost a pretty penny to fix. Not that he didn't have that kind of money—he could buy two hundred of his favorite truck every year for a decade and not run out of disposable cash.

He'd had to practically crawl to get to where he was now.

He was going to find those punks and teach them not to mess with a Texas Barratt.

Someday.

Not right now, though. It had taken every bit of strength he had to make it this far.

He'd just been out there tonight to check on the property—he'd been in Texas for a few months, and there had been rumors that drugs were still being found around the county. He'd just wanted to check the far barn before heading to the inn.

He had important business at that inn. Business that had waited long enough.

He'd stumbled into something. That was for sure.

And had he not been such a big guy himself he probably wouldn't be alive. That black belt came in handy tonight.

But he was here now. Help was just right there—at that damned light. He needed to get to the light.

Follow the damned light. Or was it don't go into the light? How the hell should he know? His head was killing him. The rest of him didn't feel so great either.

He'd had to hike through the damned snow on a damned game trail to get there, but he had damned well done it.

He'd make it as far as he damned well could.

The Talley Inn beckoning in the distance had drawn him. Of course, it had.

She was there.

One step at a time.

If he was going to die from being pummeled over and over again, he wanted to be right there. He wanted to see her one more time.

Well, he'd made it this far. He was almost to her now. Or at least where he thought she would be.

Crashing to the ground and calling her name was probably not something he should do. A man should have some dignity, after all. Even when some assholes had made hamburger out of him.

His mouth quirked as he just stayed where he'd fallen—next to the damned duck pond. Now he was going to croak next to her damned duck pond. They'd probably find his frozen body clogging up that damned duck pond, snow and ice all around him, ducks using his damned body as a life raft or something.

Brandt had no illusions about his fate tonight.

But damn it, he had come back to Masterson County because he had plans.

He had been planning for two years how to seduce that woman and show her what she meant to him.

Everything he wanted was ready now.

Every loose end in Texas had been tied up. He'd found the property he wanted to spend the rest of his life on with her. He had goals. It had taken him far longer than he wanted, but he had been giving her time, too.

She wasn't ready for the kind of life a Texas Barratt led. It was so far outside her comfort zone that he had made a vow to go slow. And he'd half thought time away from her would break him of needing her. He'd just been waiting for that to happen—because he'd known it would happen.

He'd told himself that. Time and time again. But then he would see her again, and he'd just know this was the woman for him.

His mate.

Barratts mated for life, after all. He was never going to stop needing her. He had finally accepted his fate. Was ready to just fall at her feet and beg her to put him out of his misery of living without her.

Only to end up like this. Dying in her damned backyard.

Talk about tragic.

"Hello?" a sweet voice called.

For a moment, Brandt was convinced he'd imagined it.

The Fates wouldn't be that kind.

Still, it was help.

If he was going to live to seduce the woman he wanted another day, he needed help now. It sure felt like they'd beaten him close to death.

He'd been close to death before. When the mayor of this little town had decided to put two bullets in him, almost for the hell of it. Of course, the man had been being driven mad by a blackmailing stalker of his own, but still…

Brandt was almost convinced Masterson County itself was out to kill him. The evidence was piling up. And he was too damned stubborn to pull up his newly driven stakes and retreat back to Finley Creek, where Barratts meant hotels and real estate and heaven knows what else.

Where he just blended in with the rest of them.

Brandt wanted more than that.

He wanted Masterson County.

And, damn it, he wanted her.

The very woman staring down at him now.

Brandt looked at her. She was just there. In a hooded sweatshirt, leaning over him in the snow. Like an angel from his dreams.

Well, in his dreams, she wasn't exactly an angel, nor was she fully clothed, but he had dreamed about her. Far too many times before. "Meyra, my little one, I seem to have gotten into trouble tonight. Best call 911 to come get me again, okay? I'm just going to sit here and wait. I'm beginning to think this county is out to kill me…"

"Brandt, what happened?" She knelt next to him, and her cool little hand touched his cheek. She always had the softest touch. "How badly are you hurt? Who did this to you?"

He had wanted her almost from the first moment he had seen her. Then, he'd thought she was far too young, but she was older than she looked. But so, so sweet. Too sweet for a man like him. "Three men took exception to me telling them to get off my new property. I suspect they thought they'd killed me, stupid…bas—…buttheads." He didn't curse around her if he could help it.

She made him want to be gentle in all things.

He almost laughed at that.

When a Barratt fell, they fell hard. No denying that.

He'd fallen for her from almost day one. "Call 911. Trust me, I'm not going anywhere until you do."

She was already dialing.

Of course, the Fates would drop him at the feet of the only woman he would ever fall in love with. It was the Fates' way of messing with him, probably for something he had done to them in another life or something.

Brandt was still trying to figure that out.

Two years of knowing her, of loving her , and she still treated him like she treated everybody else. Like he was just any regular old guest at the Talley Inn.

And for all his scheming, he hadn't come up with a single way to make her see him any differently. Scooping her up and riding off into the sunset with her really wasn't a viable option.

Barratts had done that in the past before—but he couldn't do that now. Not in today's society, anyway.

He'd have to remember that.

Brandt just stayed right where he was.

At least they wouldn't find him floating in her damned duck pond in the morning.

There was that.

At this point, Brandt was just going to be grateful for small favors.