“Daddy?”

“Yeah, Little Man?”

“Does Rory hate me?”

His question causes my damn heart to spasm in my chest.

“Why do you ask that?” I question, clearing my throat at the uncomfortable emotion that comes with the question. I’ve been so lost, I hadn’t realized that my son was hurting from not having Rory… just like I was.

“She doesn’t come over when I’m there anymore and this morning when she came out of her house, I waved at her. She didn’t wave back. She just got in her car. She always waves, Dad. Sometimes, she hugs. Most of the time she hugs and she isn’t like most girls. She gives really good hugs,” he says, staring at me like I was supposed to have the magic answer.

I don’t have any answers.

I don’t have any at all.

“Maybe she didn’t see you, Ry,” I respond, turning across the bridge that will put us on the road that goes to home.

“She saw me dad and she seemed…”

“Seemed what son?”

“Really sad.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” I lie.

I’m positive that Rory is not fine. I’m positive that she’s not fine at all and that it’s my fault. Seems it’s not only Rory I hurt. It was Ryan and myself too.

That is if she’s telling the truth…

I hate that I have that thought, but I do.

“I hope so. I really like Rory. Don’t you, Dad?” Ryan asks, having no idea the pain he’s causing. Then again, it might be pain I deserve.

“Yeah, Son,” I tell him, clearing my suddenly tight throat. “I really like her.”

Fuck.

We drive a few miles in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I was knee deep in mine, so deep that I didn’t notice the red Jeep until it was beside me, passing me in a no passing zone. I slowed down, thinking to let the guy over, instead of doing that however, he swerves over to slam into my truck. I fight the wheel to keep from careening out of control.

Tire against tire, fender against fender, quarter panel against quarter panel, the sound of metal colliding then bending against each other is so loud it almost drowns out the sound of Ryan’s scream.

Almost.

I cut deep and press the gas pedal down, trying to disentangle my truck and get the fuck away. I just need to get Ryan to safety. Once I do that, I will hunt this motherfucker down and kill him.

“Dad! Watch out!” Ryan screams, my eyes ricochet from the Jeep beside us, immediately to my son. He’s pointing straight ahead and too late my gaze goes to the road. Parked across the road is a jet-black Suburban I’m headed straight for it. It’s a good distance up from us, but the entire road is blocked, the Jeep is beside us, and there’s a truck behind us, too. I’m trapped. They’re just herding us in like damn cattle.

The worst part is that I’m going too fast—too fucking fast. I slam on my brakes, angling the truck so the worst of the collision will be on my side, not Ryan’s. Adrenaline is pumping through me, it’s happening at the speed of light but, at the same time, it feels like everything is in slow motion.

The truck behind us crashes into me, jarring the fuck out of me, and out of the corner of my eye I see the way Ryan is thrust forward. I should have bought a truck with a backseat. He’s so tall for his age that I thought it would be okay. I keep him in the best seat money can buy, fucker even has alarms to tell me he’s in there—like I wouldn’t know. But, I know I have to do something to try and stop him from being hurt now.

The truck is literally fighting my brakes, literally pushing us toward the Suburban. The sound of squealing brakes, the smell of how hot they’re getting, the rapid beating of my heart, and the rush of blood that’s echoing in my ears, they swirl around me and I do my best to think despite it all.

Across from the Suburban, there’s the shoulder of the road and a mountain with rock exposed. If I can hit it just right, I will take the brunt of the impact and maybe Ryan will have a chance to jump out and make a run for it.

It’s a shit plan, but it’s all I have.

“Hold on, Ryan,” I tell him. “Hold on, Son,” I say again, and I hate that he can hear the panic in my voice. I hate it, but I can’t control it. “Ryan, when we hit, if you’re able boy, I need you to get out run into the wooded area and head straight to Rory. Can you do that for me?”

“Dad,” he responds and he’s crying now, the sound of his tears kills me.

“Promise me!” I urge, the sound of our tires squealing getting louder… so loud it’s painful. I pull up on the emergency brake and the truck fishtails. I cut the wheel deep again and hit the gas. The truck lurches off two tires, as it makes the sharpest turn I’ve ever made. Now the back of my truck is to the Suburban, there’s just enough distance between me and the Jeep that we somehow—miraculously—clear it and I’m careening sideways. “The minute we hit, Ryan!” I scream. “Go to Rory, tell her to call Uncle Crusher!”

“Okay,” I think I hear him say, I’m not sure because the tail end of my truck crashes against the rock of the mountain. It lurches and I cut it again, pulling it back into the mountain. My door crunches next, curling against me and then my front fender and hood, the force is so great the metal on the side of my truck collapses inward and cuts into my leg, just as my airbags explode, slamming me back. I feel white-hot pain everywhere, but mostly radiating from my mangled leg. I don’t have time to concentrate on it, as my truck rocks and then comes to a stop. I reach in the console, pull out my gun. Then, I slide across the seat, pulling my injured leg with me, as I go to Ryan’s side. I take in my son. His body is shaking from his tears, his eyes wide with panic. I bring my hand up to touch his face, needing one last touch. My hand is bloody and it looks so wrong that I don’t. I can’t bring myself to touch Ryan like that. The good news is that his airbag didn’t deploy, at least that part of my plan worked, and he’s free from the carnage.

In my peripheral vision, I can see four men coming toward us.

“Daddy,” Ryan cries, having already undone his belts. He collapses against me and I allow myself just a second to smell him, to commit his touch to memory. There’s no way I’m going to make it out of this. I know that. I’ll never be able to see Ryan grow up. I’ll never meet his first girlfriend, share his first beer with him, help him nurse his first heartache, buy his first bike, watch him put on a Savage cut… I’ll never be able to see him fall in love with a redhead with green eyes and a dusting of freckles across her face. I’ll never watch him have his own son….

All I can do is make sure Ryan gets away. Rory will protect him. She’ll help him.

“I’m going to give you cover, Ryan. You run. Go to Rory. Give her Uncle Crusher’s number. Do it,” I urge him.

“Okay…” he stops and takes a gulping breath as sobs come out with the words. “Okay, Daddy,” he says.

I open the door and the men are just a foot away. I level my gun and take aim, getting the first fucker between the eyes. I twist around Ryan’s body and drop to the paved shoulder outside, dragging my useless leg with me. I use my body as a shield for Ryan to get out. If I didn’t have a leg that made it impossible I’d run with him, shielding him.

That’s not an option.

“Now Ryan!” I urge my son. The minute I hit the ground, Ryan’s out from behind me and he takes off running. I start shooting again, trying to measure each shot, because I don’t have shit to reload with—that’s in the console. Even if I had the bullets in my hands, there’s no way I’d have time to load the chamber. The men dive for cover, as my son disappears around my truck.

“Get him, for fuck’s sake!” One of the men demands, and I know immediately he’s talking about my boy. I aim for that motherfucker, but just as I shoot, I feel a bullet tear into my shoulder and my shot goes wide. I shoot a couple of more times. I nail another asshole and he goes down—dead before he hits the ground. I feel a shot go into my gut and this one is bad. I know it, because I instantly feel blood pouring. I shoot until I’m out. Even then, I pull the trigger, but the only thing that happens is a dull clicking noise, telling me there’s no bullets left to shoot. I’ve sunk down on my ass, my vision blurry. Blood is pooling against my lap.

When I look up I see a man in a suit standing over me. It’s the same one who ordered one of the men to get Ryan. I start to speak, but I don’t get the chance before he levels a gun at me, aims at my head and smiles.

I turn to the side, to try and get one last glimpse of Ryan, needing to know he’s okay before I die. I don’t see him and I turn back around. My vision is blurry, this is the end. I know it. For a minute, I think I see Rory standing with her hands behind her back watching me. It’s not real, there’s no way it could be but seeing her hurts because in that moment I understand that I loved her. I would have fought through all the bullshit and fixed what was between us… I would have… if only I would have had that chance…

There’s nothing I can do about it now. Nothing at all. It’s too late. All I can do is hope Ryan gets to her.

Before I can face my killer and spit on him and maybe tell him that I’ll see him in hell, a shot rings out and the world goes black.