Page 70 of Vicious Sabotage

What happened?

She tried to piece together the events.

She’d been taking stock of the alcohol in her bar so she could prepare an order for delivery the next morning.

Then…

The thuds of fists and crashes of a fight in the stockroom. Carver fighting for his life.

She had been kidnapped and stuffed into a vehicle. Driven to god knew where and tossed out.

At least she was away from that evil man.

Overhead, the tiny lights of an airplane flew. A single tear seeped from the corner of her eye and rolled down her temple.

She was lying on the gravel road. What road? She didn’t have a clue, but she needed to get up before a car came along and ran her over.

With a groan, she rolled onto her side and slowly sat up. Her head spun, her thoughts fragmented. Sharp rocks dug into her palms, and she winced as she pushed to her knees. Slowly, she gained her feet, swaying.

Then she really looked at her surroundings.

That bastard had left her in the mountains.

She had to be miles from Eden, or even the nearest house.

She patted her jeans, feeling for her phone. It wasn’t on her.

It was gone.

She tipped her head back, staring at the sky again, wanting to scream down the heavens in anger, fear and frustration.

And grief—she couldn’t forget her loss.

Fresh tears blinded her for long minutes, and she couldn’t catch her breath through the sobs. Carver. She’d just found someone who understood her, and now he was gone.

She took off walking as if her feet had a will of their own and wanted off this mountain. Fury kept her from collapsing. The jagged pain in her heart spurred her faster.

She was going to find someone to help her hunt down Jered Smythe and kill him. Colton, Hunter…any of those ranch hands at the Gracey. Even that unknown man who wouldn’t meet her gaze when they all realized Carver was dead.

Hurt whipped at her, and she wrapped her arms around her middle to hold the broken shards of herself together as she walked.

Again, she looked to the sky for answers to her latest problem—where was she?

Her daddy didn’t teach her how to navigate by stars—he only taught her how to run a bar.

And not even to make the rum he’d wanted so damn much.

She should walk away from Badlands, leave it all behind. It wasn’t worth fighting for anymore, and her father probably owed the loan shark more than the place was even worth.

Let Smythe have it all. For all she cared, he could burn it down.

Livia could leave like her sister did. She could keep on walking right off this mountain, right out of this town, and start over.

But how, without Carver?

The pain seared her all over again. If he had been in the bar, he would have made his way to her. His men would have found him.

But they hadn’t, and she’d been alone.

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