Liam: Branded Brothers by Raen Smith

One letter can change it all... When caregiver Charla Tayor arrives at the isolated cottage of a man suffering with Alzheimer's, she's given one instruction to carry out upon his death: to deliver a letter to a man named Liam Murphy. Three years later, she's face-to-face with the letter's recipient, a tattooed Irish Bounty Hunter who's exactly the type of man she's trying to avoid. But Charla can't ignore their undeniable connection as Liam drags her deeper into her patient's troubled past. Just as she's opening her heart, her life teeters on a dangerous edge, and there's only one man who can save her.
  Charla gasped. Every single piece of wood paneling was ripped from the walls, exposing the interior framework of the house. The basement was trashed, the boards strewn and broken all over the ground. She knew there was no way Jack had the strength to do this. Her heart hammered as panic flooded her body. Someone was here. “Shit,” she whispered as she turned and fled up the stairs, gripping the bat until her fingers ached. Just as she reached the top step, a black figure appeared. A large arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her through the doorway. Her bag skidded across the kitchen floor as she shrieked and kicked. She swung the bat wildly in the air but was unable to connect to the body behind her. She felt her body weaken under the man’s strong arms as he pulled her in tighter until she was snug against him. She jabbed the bat behind her, still trying to connect in vain. “Drop the bat,” he rasped in her ear. She squirmed and kicked her legs, trying to get free from his grasp. He picked her off the ground. “Drop the bat,” he repeated calmly as she swung the bat loosely with only one hand. His accent lingered in her ear. It was thick, an accent she’d heard before in one of her nursing classes. “No,” she choked out. She wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Not here, not in the only place she’d felt safe for the last three years. “Drop the fucking bat,” he barked this time, squeezing even harder. She felt the pressure on her chest constrict her breathing. She panted, wincing at the burn in her ribs. “Don’t make me hurt you.”