Page 62 of Vicious Sabotage

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Carver flexed his fingers. He must be getting soft—his knuckles were on the stiff side from roughing up those assholes in the parking lot.

That one had hit Livia. Sure, it was by accident, but Carver made sure that next time the guy would look where he was aiming.

Carver’s chest burned with a rage he could barely restrain even an hour after the incident. He kept glancing at the bar where Livia stood pouring drink after drink. She looked okay. He had to keep reminding himself that she was okay.

Her face would be bruised, but she was right that it wasn’t terrible and would probably fade quickly. That didn’t make him any less angry.

Somebody had dared to touch his woman. That wasn’t ever happening again.

Now he made it his job to not only keep an eye on the entire bar, and who was coming and going, but on the plumber.

Carver had been around a lot of nervous men in his life. Some people might argue that he was the reason behind their nerves. But this guy either didn’t know how to do his job or he had a perspiration problem.

His shirt was drenched along the spine and under each arm. Sweat ran down his forehead into his eyes so often that he had to keep wiping it away with paper towels he pulled out of the wall dispenser.

“Unisex bathroom?” a female voice came from behind him.

He gave her a nod. “We’re under repair.”

The woman shrugged and took her chances.

He turned back to the open door and the plumber was on his knees by the sink. He used a wrench on a connecting piece. Then a different wrench.

Carver stared at the guy. Did he actually know what he was doing?

“How long you been in the business?” he asked.

“Uh…” He mopped his forehead again. “Six or seven years now. I took over for my uncle after he retired.”

Seven years and he still didn’t know how to repair a leaky pipe any faster?

At that moment, he dropped his wrench into his toolbox and straightened. “That should do it. I’ll just give Livia the invoice.”

Sweat dripped into his eye and a bead slithered into the collar of his shirt. He picked up his toolbox, and avoiding Carver’s stare, walked out of the restroom.

Carver stared hard at the area but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He hadn’t left a weapon behind or planted a bomb under the sink. Maybe he’d read the guy wrong.

As soon as he stepped out of the restroom, his gaze tracked to Livia. She was speaking to the plumber. Then she led him into the office.

By the time Carver walked back there to make sure all was okay, Livia was handing the plumber a check.

With that transaction completed, he breathed a little easier, especially after the plumber left Badlands. This had been a long night already, and he couldn’t wait to get Livia home.

When he did, he had big plans for her, starting with running her a nice hot bath so she could relax. Then he’d find that steak for her bruised face even if he had to drive to the Gracey Ranch and get one off one of their cows.

But the night seemed to go on and on. The thud of two dozen line dancers was giving him a headache, and the loud music was getting on his nerves. He wanted to stick two fingers in his mouth and issue a shrill whistle to gain everyone’s attention—then toss them all out.

Livia bounced from one end of the bar to the other with her usual energy. He noticed how she allowed her hair to wave over her cheek instead of pushing it back like she always did.

A group of four at a table all stood up and started making their way to the exit. He watched them closely, aware that Livia was held responsible for drunk drivers.

He looked to one of the guys in the group. “Who’s driving?”

“I am.”

“You good enough to drive?”

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