Page 86 of Vicious Sabotage

The vehicle she drove had an old-school CB radio. She knew enough from serving beer to volunteer firefighters what station to dial in.

It took her a moment of listening to understand that they were sending trucks in two different directions.

Three to the Gracey Ranch. Three more to Badlands.

Her heart lodged in her throat, trapping her scream.

She stomped on the gas.

Rage built alongside the terror like gasoline to the already burning blaze of her bar. That bar was all she had to show for her life. Her past, present and future were in Badlands. Even though she went to bed with aching feet and woke up tired, she still loved that place.

It might have started out as her father’s old saloon, but Livia had built it into what it was today.

Several streets were blocked off as she neared, but she parked and took off running on foot.

Smoke fogged the air. Pedestrians gathered outside to watch the firefighters work.

As she got closer, she realized that Badlands was still standing.

But the distillery behind it was engulfed in flames.

All that alcohol stored in barrels would keep the fire blazing hot until there was nothing left but ash.

Her mouth opened wide in horror as she watched.

Oh god. She owned more than a bar and distillery.

My house!

“Angel!”

Blinded by fear, she sprinted back to the truck. She didn’t even feel her feet pounding the pavement or acknowledge any of the people she passed.

In the past twenty-four hours, she’d almost lost a man she cared about more than anyone else. Her distillery was gone. Losing her cat would be the final straw.

Her mind circled back to Carver.

Oh god, she’d actually tried to push the man away from her. Again.

The look of hurt in his eyes imprinted on her brain. A rough cry burst from her lips, and she pressed her fist against them to hold it back.

She gripped the steering wheel harder, the knot of dread tripling in her stomach as she approached the street where her house was. Minutes warped, feeling like they stretched into hours. Her fingers numbed from gripping the wheel so hard.

When she spotted wisps of smoke trickling through the cracks in the front door, her heart slammed the wall of her chest. A fire was set. But her house wasn’t as far gone as the bunkhouse or her distillery.

Yet.

With a howl, she parked in the street, yelling for the cell phone assistant to call 911 as she ran for the house.

Just then, she spotted a tall man rushing around the side of the house. She froze in her tracks.

Carver’s long legs ate up the distance fast. As she looked on, he picked up a heavy planter on her front porch, dumped out the plant and used it to smash in the front window.

“Carver!” Her throat seared with the force of her scream.

He tossed her a look before hitching himself up the wall and diving through the broken window.

Into her blazing house.

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