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The crunch of metal was loud and grinding on Marshal’s ears as he ran balls out toward the front door of the party room.
Slamming through the glass, he watched in horror when Sinclair Brick’s town car was crashed into by a cement truck. The force sent Syn’s car into a concrete light pole so hard, the car folded and buckled.
Not even a second passed before Marshal was running toward the scene, not giving a fuck if he was risking injury or death.
Ryker Langston was in that crumpled car.
“Get the other door!” Bishop screamed, running to his side.
When they reached the car, Bishop punched at the window on Syn’s side of the car. There was no getting to anyone from the buckled side of the vehicle, so Marshal waited with his heart in his throat as Bishop lifted Syn from the car.
When Bishop emerged with Syn in his arms, Marshal lunged into the car’s back seat and to Ryker, who wasn’t moving.
Mateo stumbled out of the front passenger seat and fell on his ass in the snow next to Bishop and Syn. Tanner finally unfroze and crawled into the passenger seat to check the driver.
“He’s dead,” Tanner said, sliding back out. “Marshal, hurry, something’s caught fire beneath the vehicle.”
Marshal lunged across the seat to a limp Ryker. The man’s head was at an odd angle and there was so much blood pouring down his face that his features were all but obscured. Slicing away the seat belt, Marshal carefully pulled Ryker from the car and carried him to the sidewalk.
Ryker wasn’t breathing.
Sounds were coming from somewhere that Marshal couldn’t comprehend until it dawned on him that they came from his own burning throat.
No pulse.
He started CPR on Ryker. Tipping the man’s chin back, he placed his mouth on Ryker’s and pushed air into the man’s lungs. He spit out blood when he came away and started compressions again.
Still no pulse.
Sirens blared in the distance.
The whole world felt like it was on fire.
When the EMTs raced up, Marshal fell to his ass on the concrete as they started working on Ryker.
His eyes stayed glued to the ambulance as it roared away from the scene.
And he knew, in that moment, that his life had been altered.
Almost losing Ryker had put things in perspective.
Regret clawed at his insides.
And there wasn’t one fucking thing he could do that would change what he had already done.
Seven months later…
Ryker Langston sat in the study of his family estate home and gazed out the window at the snowy Colorado wilderness.
Sometimes, life threw a person lemons, but right then, he was tired of lemonade.
“What have you decided?” Synclair Brick’s voice jogged Ryker’s attention away from the view and back to the rich decor.
“Hmm?” He glanced at his best friend in confusion.
That was right…he suddenly recalled. He’d been bitching about Marshal to Syn.
“I want him back.” Ryker frowned, pulling at his bottom lip.
