Page 72 of Waiting in Wyoming

“Brandt is in trouble. They drugged him. We have to help him.”

“I have to do no such thing. They are setting up that rich pretty boy to be the fall guy, sweetie pie. That asshole Fisher, for one thing. Dirty down to his tighty-whities. Him and that bitch wife of his. Been good friends of Morry Preston for years. Michelle is Morry’s cousin, after all. Playmate, too. Which means…they are no friends ofmine.”

He hefted Meyra until she was propped up against the side of the van. “You are going to stay here. I have…business with good old Judge Dale Fisher and some of his boys inside. If you behave, I will let you go in a little bit, okay, sweetie? Unless…I am the far better man than that rich boy you’ve been going around with. We can make it a permanent thing—have a few kids of our own, settle down somewhere. I make very pretty babies, you know. Need three more to have a whole set.”

This guy was insane. He had nine daughters that he’d abandoned. Meyra knew them all. “Let me go. I have to go help him. Please. Please, Mr. Tyler. I was going to go to Gil’s. Get help there. Please.”

“I’m not a damned hero, kid. Haven’t you heard that about me? Damn, you are a young one, aren’t you? How old are you, anyway? Eighteen? Legal, so I can drive off into the sunset with you as my reward for my next good deeds?”

“I’m twenty-five. Please…let me go.” He was a criminal. No denying that. She knew the things he had done. Especially to his daughters. “Please, I have to help him.”

“Ah, puppy love. Guess no hope for me, then. What you are going to do is stay right here. Until I come back.”

“Please. He’s dying in there. You said—you told people before—you aren’t a killer. I know you said that. I know it. Please. You have to help him.”

Then he was just gone.

And Meyra was stuck there.

And then he just left her there.

63

Everything had fallen in place.Answered questions. Brandt recognized one of those guys as the third asshole who had attacked him that night in his own damned barn.

Brandt was a Barratt who traveled between the two points in question on a regular basis. To profit. It was no wonder they had picked him.

He was the fall guy. The younger brother wanting toprovehimself and everything. He’d practically made it easy for them.

Brandt had figured it out as he’d listened to the two bastards after they’d thought he was out.

He was the perfect patsy, apparently. Of course, he was. That designer drug. Out of his hometown. Being stored in houses owned by his twin sister. The cop who had been investigating the drugs from the beginning—now engaged to Brandt’s sister.

These bastards wanted one thing: to frame Brandt, and possibly Gunnar. To make it look like they were the ones responsible for OPJ in the first place. And for good measure, apparently, Powell was supposed to be in on it, too.

Well, that just pissed him off completely.

No one was going to screw with his family again.

Especially his sister.

And especially Meyra.

Brandt pulled himself to his feet, ignoring how weak he felt right now.

Meyra needed him.

And Brandt was going to get to her.

Those bastards had made it clear—they were going to make it look like Brandt was up there in Masterson County to relocate their little operation.

And he was in similar businesses as the men the police were searching for.

Brandt had definitely been an idiot. It had probably only been his connections to people in this town and in his hometown that had kept him from being much of a suspect to begin with.

“You all don’t think it’s kind of stupid to put a gun in this dude’s hand?” the blond guy—Kurt—asked. “I mean, what if he shoots us?”

Well, maybe Kurt had one or two working brain cells. For now. Brandt was looking forward to rearranging Kurt’s face for him as soon as he possibly could.