Page 7 of Vicious Sabotage

“Look. I drove off that guy before he could steal Ivy’s truck. Colton’s wrong about the danger turning on me.”

He hitched a sandy brow upward. She wouldn’t call his hair color blond, and it wasn’t quite brown. The color reminded her of a child who spent a lot of time in the sun.

Wolfe was no child, though. His beard sported more than one silver hair glinting among the sandy brown. Now that he was standing so close, she noted the age lines around his lips and eyes that glinted like black steel.

She waved a hand, hoping to shoo him away as easily as a fly. “You don’t know how men in these parts operate. At a young age, my father taught me just how easy it is to scare someone much bigger than I am. And at five feet tall, I need all the help I can get from Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson.”

His lips firmed as if he didn’t like hearing her thoughts on personal safety. Leveling her in his gaze, he offered her what she could only call a cocky look.

She’d seen his type before.

Okay, not exactly his type. This one oozed big dick energy boosted with confidence that bordered on arrogance.

As if to prove her right, he turned without a word and walked into the crowd. Bodies seemed to part like a sea around a mountain. Or a glacier. Yeah, this guy was probably as cold as one.

She craned her neck to see around the people blocking her view. Seconds later, a shout echoed over the music.

Then Wolfe appeared with the three guys who’d harassed Emory marching in front of him like prisoners. When one didn’t walk fast enough for his liking, Wolfe shoved him in the back to propel him forward.

Livia had to snap her jaw shut.

Well. If she no longer had a bouncer, at least Wolfe was a good stand-in.

Livia immediately saw just how wrong she was about him. He didn’t go stand guard at the door. Instead, he positioned his back to the wall and folded his arms over his broad chest, where he stood glaring over the room like some warlord.

“Hey, can I get a round of Badlands rum for my friends?”

She forced her attention away from Wolfe to the man standing at the bar. “Sure.”

“When? I’ve been standing here for two minutes.”

“I’ll pour you that round now.”

As soon as she got a minute, she was going to call Colton and give him a piece of her mind. She’d spent years toiling to build Badlands into the vision her father had, and it was beyond maddening that a stranger would barge in at Colton’s command and just take over.

Since the day her dad keeled over from a heart attack, she’d been in charge of the staff, the business, and the distillery that she built but was her father’s dream.

Actually, being in charge went back a lot further to when her mother ran off, leaving Livia to basically raise her little sister.

Then the minute her sister saw a chance, she moved to Alburquerque with her latest flavor of the month. Last Livia heard, her sister’s new boyfriend was on parole awaiting trial for whatever crime he convinced her gullible sibling that he didn’t commit.

But that was no longer Livia’s problem.

“Can I get that round of rum?” The guy waved to get her attention.

She tore her glare away from her new bouncer—or bodyguard, according to him. She wanted to stalk back over to him and tell him what she thought of him. But she didn’t have time to argue with Wolfe. She had a packed house filled with thirsty customers.

Besides, it was almost time for the mechanical bull competition, and things always got rowdy.

She poured the shots, then pushed them across the bar at the guy. “Twenty bucks.”

“I thought shots were two bucks.”

“That’s only on Thursdays.”

He opened his mouth to argue, so she curled her fingers around the tray and drew it toward her.

A flash of movement in the corner of her eye had her turning her head to look at Wolfe. When he took a step her direction, she threw up a hand to stop him.

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