PROLOGUE
December—on the plains near Abilene, Texas
Heat penetrated the black void of unconsciousness in which Ryder Justice was drifting. Even in the depths from which he was trying to escape, he smelled the hair burning on the backs of his arms and knew another level of fear. He moaned, and the movement of air through his lungs yanked him rudely into the now. Gritting his teeth against the pain racking his every breath, he struggled to sit upright. Acrid smoke drifted up his nose, mingling with the coppery taste of fresh blood as he fumbled with the latch to his seat belt. That which had most probably saved his life was now holding him hostage.
A sheet of rain blew in the broken window to his left and into his eyes. It was as effective as a slap in the face. Cognizance returned full force.
Just beyond the crumpled cockpit, he could see flames licking at the metal and eating their way toward him, and he remembered being up in the sky, and getting caught in the storm. A stroke of lightning lit up the night sky and he flinched as he remembered another bolt of lightning and how the plane had shuddered, then rocked. And afterward, the sensation of an electric free fall.
An instinct for survival pushed past the misery of broken ribs and bleeding cuts, past the bone-jarring ache that came with every movement, every breath. He’d survived being struck by lightning. The plane had crashed and he was still alive to tell the tale. By God, he would not sit here and burn to death when he still had legs to crawl.
And at that moment, he remembered he was not alone. He turned.
“Dad?”
Another streak of lightning snaked across the sky, momentarily illuminating what was left of the cabin. After that, Ryder had only the encroaching fire by which to see, but it was more than enough. Stunned by the horror of what the crash had done to Micah Justice, he refused to believe what his mind already knew.
The straps holding him in place suddenly came free and Ryder struggled to get out of his seat. Ignoring wave after wave of pain-filled nausea, he freed his father from the seat and managed to get them both out of the wreckage and into the falling rain.
Sometimes crawling, sometimes pushing, he dragged himself and his father’s lifeless body until he found himself beneath some sort of overhang.
Shivering from pain, shock, and the chill of rain-soaked clothing, he scooted as far back as he could get beneath the outcropping of rocks, pulling Micah’s body with him, then cradling his father’s head against his chest as he would have a sleeping child.
A gust of wind cornered the overhang, blowing rain and a peppering of hail on Ryder’s outstretched legs, and at that moment the fuselage blew, erupting into the night in an orange ball of fire. Ryder closed his eyes against the blast, and held his father that much tighter, refusing to accept the motion as wasted effort.
“Dad?”
Again, Micah Justice did not answer. There was no familiar, sarcastic chuckle, no awkward pat from a strong man’s hands for comfort. Ryder buried his face against the back of his father’s shirt and took a long, aching breath. He knew, but his heart wasn’t ready to face the truth.
“Dad…come on, Dad. You can do this. You’ve told me time and time again that it takes a hell of a lot to put a Justice man down.”
Thunder rumbled across the sky, and the deep, angry rumble sounded like his heart felt as grief began to settle. His arms tightened around his father’s body, and for the first time since the accident had happened, tears began to fall, mingling with the raindrops clinging to Ryder’s scorched and battered face.
Holding his father close, he began to rock, muttering beneath his breath and in his father’s ear, although Micah Justice had already moved beyond the sound of his second son’s voice.
“Please, Dad, talk to me.” Ryder’s voice broke. “Dad…Daddy, don’t do this,” he pleaded. “Don’t leave us. We need you. All of us need you. Roman will go to hell without you on his case… and Royal, think of Royal. What will happen to the ranch and Royal if you don’t wake up?”
A second explosion followed on the tail of the first—smaller, but still powerful in intensity. Bits of burning metal shot up into the sky and then fell down upon the ground nearby. Another flash of lightning, this time closer, revealed more of the truth Ryder Justice had been trying to deny. Micah was dead. Probably upon impact. And he was left with an inescapable fact. His father was dead, and he’d been piloting the plane. This time, when thunder rumbled overhead, it drowned out the sounds of Ryder Justice’s grief.