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Break me. Take me. Not him.Please. Not him.
Three police cars were parked on the side of the road along with one bright-red fire truck. Neon-orange flares glowed ominously along the street. Instead of slowing down, my tires squealed over the pavement as I sped close. As I slammed the brake, the bike skidded into a half circle, and I slammed my boot down on the pavement, my bones once again vibrating with the force. Leaving the motorcycle running in the middle of the street, I ran forward, weaving around all the emergency vehicles…
And stopped short.
Jesus, not again.
A broken wail tore through the narrow confines of my clenched throat to echo violently inside the helmet I’d yet to take off. Swaying on my feet, I stared in stunned horror at the scene before me.
Wes’s black BMW upside down. Tires in the air, body slammed into an imposing tree.
“Wes!” I roared, ripping the helmet off and throwing it at the officer who was telling me to get back. I rushed forward, tearing through the hands trying to hold me back.
“Get out of my way.” My voice was vehement, practically threatening, as my boots plowed into the tall grass growing along the road, trampling the damp blades and nearly slipping on all the leaves the trees had released. Glass crunched underfoot, but I disregarded it to drop to my knees by the driver’s door.
“I got you.” I promised, hoping he could hear me. Hoping he knew I would never leave him alone. Flopping onto my stomach, I army-crawled toward the busted window. “I’m coming,” I vowed.
Hands grabbed me, pulling me back.
I went near feral, kicking and fighting, losing my goddamn mind. “No!” I fumed. “Goddammit, I’m getting him!”
Arms locked around me from behind, hauling me away from the crumpled car. “Sir!” a man in a uniform yelled, stepping right up into my line of vision. Blocking my sight of Wes.
I threw out both feet, but he avoided the kick narrowly.
“He’s not in the car.”
I stopped fighting the second the words made it through my terror. “What?” I said around a gasp. My lungs burned. My throat burned.
Everything fucking burned.
“The man in the accident. He’s been taken to the hospital already.”
“I-is he… dead?” The mere suggestion of something like that was so abhorrent I sagged.
“No. He’s not. Just injured.”
The relief was so fucking great I moaned.
“Max,” Ryan yelled, and then he was beside me, telling whoever was pinning me in place, “I got him.”
The arms holding me let go, and I wobbled on my legs, eyes drawn back to the busted-up car, my brain already recreating the scenario of how it ended up like this.
“Do you know the driver?” a voice I didn’t know asked.
“He’s our friend,” Ryan replied.
“No,” I denied, voice hoarse. I wondered if it would ever sound normal again. “He’s everything.”
And then I was yanking free of Ryan and racing to my Harley, ignoring the shouts of people telling me not to drive.
The second I was on the bike, I hit the throttle, revving the engine.
Someone moved in front of the headlight, and my head whipped up. Jamie stood there, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweats, eyes burning into me even though he stood there bathed in bright light.
“I’m going,” I told him, no room in my words for argument.
Jamie nodded once and then stepped out of my way.
