Page 22 of Alpha's Claim
“Of course,” Etta said, already reaching for a notepad to jot down ideas. “I’ll pack a nice spread—something simple but good. And we’ll find a spot away from the house, where the two of you can enjoy some peace and quiet.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
Etta glanced up, her sharp gaze softening. “She’s good for you, Colt. I can see it. And I think she feels the same, even if she doesn’t quite realize it yet.”
Colt nodded slowly, his heart settling with a sense of purpose. “I just want her to feel at home here. She belongs, Etta. I know it.”
Etta gave him a warm smile. “Then we’ll make sure she knows it, too.”
Colt would forever be grateful to Etta for this and so much more. As he turned to leave the kitchen, his earlier disappointment began to fade away. Briar might have needed some space tonight, but he wasn’t giving up.
This wasn’t just about winning her over—it was about showing her that she had a place here. A place with him.
And if it took a little time, a little patience, and maybe a romantic picnic under the Texas sky, then so be it. Colt was all in.
The next day, Colt sat at his desk, half-focused on the stack of papers cluttering the surface. Ranch life came with a lot of responsibility—contracts for cattle shipments, vet reports, feed orders. Normally, he could plow through the business side of things with no problem. Today, though, his mind kept wandering to Briar.
Was she really okay? Or was she still lost in whatever memories haunted her? He thought about checking on her in the garden, but he knew better. She needed space, and as much as his wolf growled at the distance, he’d honor that need.
He was working through the ledgers when a knock sounded at the office door. Colt’s head snapped up, his senses already on alert. Before he could respond, the door opened, and one of the ranch hands—Jake—stepped in, his face tense.
“Boss,” Jake said with a slight tip of his hat, “there’s some men here to see you. Said it was urgent.”
Colt’s gut tightened. The air shifted, bringing with it the scent of strangers—unfamiliar and sharp, like oil and old leather.
“Who are they?” Colt asked, his voice calm but edged with steel.
Jake scratched his head, clearly uncomfortable. “Didn’t say exactly. Just that they’ve been looking for someone. Thought you’d want to talk to them yourself. There’s something kind of off about them.”
Colt exhaled slowly through his nose and nodded. “All right. Bring them in.”
The moment the strangers stepped into his office, Colt knew trouble had arrived. There were three of them, all rough around the edges, with hard faces that carried the evidence of their dangerous intent. They were dressed in plain clothes—dark trousers, loafers, and white button-down shirts. There was a sharpness in their eyes, the kind of look men wore when they weren’t looking for casual conversation.
One of them, a tall man with a scar running down the side of his jaw, took the lead. He offered a lukewarm, thin smile. “Good afternoon. Name’s Mark. My associates and I are just passing through, hoping you can help us out.”
Colt leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “What do you need?”
Mark reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a photograph. He laid it on the desk, his eyes locked on Colt’s face. “We’re looking for this woman. Her name is Briar Lockwood, although she might be using an alias. Word is, she might’ve passed through your land.”
“Who are you? US Marshalls? Rangers?”
“I don’t think that matters,” said Mark.
“It does to me,” said Colt as he glanced at the photograph.
It was Briar, and now he knew her last name, although he’d always planned on it being Savage. Her hair was tousled,and her green eyes were wide with fear—a captured moment of someone running for her life. He forced his expression into neutral territory, locking down the surge of protectiveness roaring through his veins.
“Never seen her,” Colt said evenly, meeting Mark’s gaze without flinching. “You’re the only visitors we’ve had lately.”
Mark narrowed his eyes, studying Colt’s face for any sign of deception. “She’s dangerous, this one. We’re under orders to bring her back. Might want to reconsider, in case she’s lurking somewhere on your property.”
Colt’s jaw ticked, but he kept his voice measured. “I can assure you she’s not here. So unless you’re calling me a liar…”
“No, but she’s good at hiding. Perhaps we could search…”
Colt stood up, staring the man down. “I said, she’s not here, and you’re not searching my land.”
The third man, standing a few paces behind Mark, muttered something under his breath—words Colt couldn’t quite catch, but they carried a note of certainty. This man knew, somehow, that Briar was here.