Rancher Dragon by Terry Bolryder (best ereader for manga .TXT) 📕

put on his hat and tipped it. “Whatever I have to do to keep you safe.” With that, he was gone.

She dressed furiously and raced down the stairs just in time to listen and watch from the front windows.

“Y’all need to leave. Now,” Beck was saying menacingly.

Ross looked unmoved. “Haven’t you heard? I’m Ross Clarkson, my daddy owns the town, and soon, I’m going to own this ranch.” He licked his greedy lips. “And its residents.”

“No the fuck you ain’t,” Beck returned coolly. “I’ll be damned before I let a silver-spoon jackass like you take Sierra’s home from her.”

Ross’s eyes flared with anger at the insult, and he cocked an eyebrow. “You and what army? It’s five to one. You’re outnumbered.”

“You’re right,” Beck said confidently, striding out to face them. “It really isn’t a fair fight. You couldn’t even take me if it was a thousand to one.”

“Cocky bastard. Get him, boys!”

With a loud shout, the first goon ran at Beck and tried to throw a punch, but Beck swiftly dodged to the side and grabbed the guy’s arm. Then he spun and sent the goon flying back at Ross’s fancy car. He bounced with a dull thunk off the roof and rolled into the dirt.

“That’s one,” she heard Beck mutter.

He didn’t even look fazed.

The rest of the men shot wide-eyed looks at their grounded compatriot before two of them ran at Beck at the same time. Faster than lightning, he dodged underneath one punch and slammed his fist into the man’s jaw just in time to spin and duck and deliver a clean uppercut to the other man’s chin.

Sierra gasped as the guy soared up into the air before landing back on the ground on his back with a loud thud.

The other lackey still wasn’t done, however. He stood back up, holding his jaw as he spit blood into the dirt, then came back for more. He was careful this time, but it still wasn’t enough.

Beck dodged the first punch, then retaliated with a hit so fast Sierra could hardly see it. All she heard was a loud crack as the goon screamed and fell back, holding his face as blood streamed down it.

It seemed Beck truly liked to fight.

His prey tried to crawl back and away, but Beck was ruthless. He stepped forward and grabbed the guy by the collar and held him up, showing his bruised and bloody complexion to Ross and the rest of his goons.

“This is what happens when you bring five men to pick on one woman,” Beck said. Then he slammed the guy’s face into the dirt where he stopped moving.

“Don’t listen to him,” Ross snarled to his goons. “He’s all talk, and he’s just getting lucky hits.”

Anyone could tell that was bull crap. Beck had just hit a guy so hard he turned into a human rocket.

“All talk?” Beck asked, his lips turning up in a smile. “Come fight me yourself, and we’ll see who’s the one that’s all talk.” His eyes flickered over to the window where Sierra was watching, and she could have sworn that he winked at her.

The last two guys moved forward carefully, surrounding Beck on both sides and moving in a circle around him. Then the first goon joined the circle, looking a little worse for wear but still very angry.

All of a sudden, two of them ran at Beck, one punching high, aiming for his head, the other going low and for his stomach.

With a calm smirk, Beck just stepped back quickly, and both men missed him. But while he was doing so, the other man managed to get behind him, and he had pulled out a knife.

Sierra wanted to warn Beck as the man ran at him to try and stab him, but she found it wasn’t needed. Beck turned amazingly fast and grabbed the guy’s wrist and snapped it, then took the knife and threw it at Ross.

It flew at Mach speed, catching Ross’s fancy suit coat and pulling him back as it embedded right through the car’s bumper like it was cotton candy.

As the other goons advanced, Ross reached down and tried to pull the knife out of the car, but he couldn’t. It was stuck.

Sierra almost laughed. It was so comical, Ross stuck to his fancy car by his own man’s blade. He winced and howled at his lackeys to get him out, but most of them were unconscious.

Served him right.

The last two men were warily circling Beck again. But he just stood there folding his arms and looking cool as day.

“I can go from dawn until dusk, fellas,” he said with a grunt. “I ain’t got no problems defending what’s mine, and I’m just getting warmed up.”

Mine.

The word reverberated through Sierra’s mind, a pleasurable feeling settling in her stomach.

She was his?

She didn’t have time to think about it, however, as both of the men let out frustrated shouts and ran at Beck. Surprisingly, one of their punches landed to Beck’s chest, and she gasped but was relieved when the guy stood back, wincing and shaking his fist.

Sierra could confirm. His pecs were rock hard.

The other one tried again, this time with a rope in his hands. He lunged forward in an attempt to get it over Beck’s neck, but Beck just reached up, grabbed the rope, and yanked the guy over his shoulder and right into the other dude.

Sierra winced at the resounding crash, and with super-human strength, Beck picked up both the guys and tossed them like sandbags at Ross’s feet.

Eyes wide with fear and pain and resignation, both men stood up and furiously began to help Ross out of his predicament.

“Is that all you got?” Beck called out. “You could have at least given me a chance to warm up!”

“I’ll be back. This isn’t over!” Ross shouted vehemently once his men had gotten him free. He pointed a finger at the house. “You better watch your back in town, Sierra. I wouldn’t dare show my face if I were