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declared a tie, by the Kewpie-doll manning the desk, who couldn’t keep her jailbait eyes off either of them.
    As was their post-workout ritual, they’d toweled off and sat on the wooden bench in the locker room. Colt downed half his water bottle in one gulp. “So, anything interesting happen in the world of law enforcement today?”
    “Nope. How about in the world of the McKay gas baron?”
    “Fuck you. No one’s ever gonna let me live that down.”
    “Why would you want to? Christ, Colt, you’re the one makin’
    the rest of ’em look dumb.”
    Colt mopped the sweat from his forehead. “Yeah, well it was pretty much dumb luck.”
    Years ago Colt had purchased a small tract of land from a little old ranch widow. At the time it’d taken all his money and some fancy talking to the banker to fund what his family called his “pity”
    venture. He figured he’d hold onto the acreage and figure out if improvements would make it suitable for grazing, if not, he’d sell it.
    A few years passed and a surveyor approached him about testing for methane gas. Colt agreed only because it cost him nothing and he’d managed to retain all mineral rights from the original seller, that sweet old lady, who’d since passed away.
    The surveyor made a startling discovery. Methane gas, in a place where methane gas was not supposed to be. So Colt signed off 46
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    Branded As Trouble
    for a hefty chunk of the profits, and let the company set up a drilling site.
    They hit Wyoming gold.
    After his initial bragging about his cash windfall, and faced with his family’s resentment that the land wasn’t part of the McKay Ranch, hence they got no cut of the profits, he’d taken great pains to downplay his income. Within six years of purchasing the crappy land no one had wanted, Colt earned enough money to survive on his own without his portion of the McKay Ranch or the earnings from it.
    Round about that time, his brother Colby returned to Wyoming after a rodeo career-ending injury. At first, Colt was excited to have his brother back helping with the ranch. But that excitement dimmed when their father gave Colby a large chunk of the responsibilities that’d belonged to Colt.
    Rather than see it as an easing of his workload, Colt saw it as an indictment of his abilities. He began to spend more time in the local honky-tonks. Drinking, chasing women, trying to build a reputation to rival his brother’s and cousin’s.
    It worked, but not in a good way. Colt couldn’t remember exactly when things had spiraled out of control. The year between his younger brother Carter’s wedding, and his cousin Dag’s death, Colt had alienated his family. He worked on the ranch when he felt like it, because he didn’t need the money or the hassle. He drank, started doing drugs, and slept with whoever offered.
    What did his loving brothers do when he’d started that downward spiral? Not a damn thing. Part of him wondered if they www.samhainpublishing.com 47

    Lorelei James
    wanted him to die—because he was worth far more to them dead than alive.
    The weight machine clanged in the other room, drawing his attention back to Cam who was saying, “…ain’t been in town.”
    “Sorry. I spaced out. What’d you say?”
    “Wondered what was keeping you busy at your place because you ain’t been in town all week.” Cam wiped the sweat dotting his neck. “India mentioned you missed the Tuesday night meeting.”
    Unreal. He’d been sober three years and missed one meeting in the last two and a half. “And here I thought that was supposed to be confidential information.”
    “It is. She told me you’re not returning her phone calls.”
    “So? She ain’t my keeper.”
    “She’s worried about you.”
    “She drop any hints on whether you knew if I’d fallen off the wagon or not?”
    “Nope.”
    “That’s good. Where’d you see her? At the diner?”
    “I haven’t been in the diner since Friday night.”
    “Why? They