Page 5 of Waiting in Wyoming

Meyra thought about turning around. About going back inside. That would probably be the smartest idea, the safest.

Then the sound came again.

Louder than it had been when she’d been standing at the trashcan outside.

She shot a look up at the building behind her now. Her suite was closest to the back wall. Meyra really wanted to be in there right now.

It was quiet out. The snow had stopped falling hours ago. But traffic had all but stopped because of the road conditions. Every sound sounded…louder. More terrifying. The sound her feet made on the snow was like nails on glass stabbing at her. She could hear the wind around her.

It sounded like someone screaming.

She slipped her hand into the pouch of her hoodie and wrapped her fingers around her cell phone. Just in case. It was far too cold for someone to be out there now. But if there was someone out there…

“Hello?” she said softly. She raised her voice—she wasn’t a wimp. If a guest was out here and hurt, someone needed to do something fast. They’d had guests die at the hotel before—but those were usually heart attacks.

She’d found one herself.

He’d driven to Masterson to meet with his girlfriend, where their spouses couldn’t find them. Then he’d died of a heart attack while having sex with her. After he’d died, the girlfriend had run home. She hadn’t wanted to get outed to her husband. Meyrahad found him naked and dead in the bed in room 304. Wearing handcuffs. And fluffy pink house slippers.

It was a sight she’d never forget. She still didn’t go into room 304 if she could help it. Every time she did, Meyra remembered.

The woman could have at least covered him up after he’d died before she’d fled. So he could have had some dignity. Miranda had been home that day. Miranda had solved the case of the missing lover in under two hours.

Something like that happened every five to ten years or so, her grandmother had said. It was just part of working in the hospitality industry.

The hotel only had about twenty-five percent occupancy right now. Mostly because it was early in the week, and that wasn’t unusual. But it was possible one of their guests had fallen on the small walking path that wound around the inn and ended up on Talley Boulevard. It was snowy and cold and icy. Most of the guests had stayed inside. But that didn’t meanallof them had.

She didn’t know what the liability for the inn was—but even if she did, she couldn’t leave someone out there in need of help. Meyra just wouldn’t.

She had a responsibility to her family’s guests. She’d just have to remind herself of that. “Hello? Is anyone out here?”

3

Those three punkshad 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 downthateasily. 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 hundredof his favorite truck every year for a decade and not run out of disposable cash.

He’d had to practicallycrawlto 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.