Page 72 of Vicious Sabotage

“You know him.”

“Yes.” His voice was hoarse.

“Well, it seems my father was friendly with him too. He claims he was going to let the debt die with him, but I ticked him off by fighting off his men, and now he wants a piece of me too.”

“Goddamn him.”

She studied the older man. “You got in deep with Smythe too.”

He drove for a while in silence. Finally, he nodded. “I’m embarrassed to admit I made that mistake. Now I’m about to lose it all.”

“I don’t care if I lose Badlands. I have nothing left to care about anymore.”

“I almost lost my daughters. They’re all I have, and now they hate me.”

She struggled at the sound of pain echoing in his voice. It made her miss the dad she never had and even sadder for Sean Gracey and all he lost. His wife, his son. His good name with his daughters.

“What did your father need the money for?” Sean asked her.

She shook her head. “I wish I knew. The bar was paid off when I inherited it. I took out loans with the bank to fund the distillery. My father wasn’t very smart with business, and he drank too much. It’s anybody’s guess what he did with the money Smythe lent him.” She let out a sigh. “He’s going to hold it over me until I give up everything.”

He turned his head sharply, piercing her in his gaze. “You can’t do that. You have to fight him. So do I. Otherwise, what are we doing?”

Anger washed through her, along with a fresh wave of grief. “That doesn’t mean shit. The land you own, my bar. The rum I don’t give a damn about. Fuck it all.”

He swallowed hard enough that she heard it. “There are too many memories on that ranch. I can’t lose it. It’s the place where I took my bride when we got married. I brought all three of my children home to that ranch when they were born. I want it for my daughters. When I’m gone…”

Livia’s throat closed around the hot ball of tears clogging it. While she had no ties to her family anymore, she did have ties to Badlands.

To her employees. Emory and Big Dan and many more.

She had fun running the place with Carver around. Taunting him by wiggling her backside in front of that camera he set up behind the bar and even that night he wanted to dance with her.

Why had she pushed him away? So many regrets.

She turned her head and locked eyes with Sean Gracey. Whatever the man had done to dig his grave with Smythe, he harbored enough regrets. He was beaten, downtrodden. The stress ended up giving him a heart attack, which he was still recovering from.

Not to mention all the people he’d lost in his life.

Just as she’d lost Carver.

Maybe Mr. Gracey was right. They had to keep fighting. That bastard who had Carver attacked, who’d set those men on him and on her too, deserved to be behind bars.

If they worked together, she and Sean could put him there.

She saw him nod. Reaching out, she squeezed his arm.

And the silent pact was made.

* * * * *

Blood dripped from Carver’s bottom lip onto his Badlands shirt. When he grinned at the man who’d just walked into the garage and delivered a kick to the face, he knew that blood stained his teeth.

The asshole shifted his stare away as if he was actually frightened of a man chained to a pole.

Well, he should be frightened. In fact, he should be terrified.

Because Carver was no longer chained.

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