Crashed (Driven, #3)(85)

He laughs out loud, raises his face up to the sky, before looking back at me, and I wonder if I just missed my one chance to tell Zander to go. To run. My heart twists at the thought. “Now, I really don’t think you’re in the position to be telling me what exactly I can and cannot be doing. Right?”

My head races for things to say. Ways to calm down the nerves I can see are starting to overtake him with each passing second. But all the same, I need this time. The longer I have, the more likely help might be coming. “There’s a yard full of press out front. How are you going to leave with him?”

He laughs again and I know the sound will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life. “That’s where you’re wrong. They all left with your hotshot boyfriend and followed him.” He steps closer and raises the gun to my face. “It’s just you, and me, and Z-man over there. So what do you have to say to that, huh?”

I swear all of the blood in my body drains to my feet because I have to struggle to remain focused on standing as the dizziness assaults me. After a moment, I manage to steady myself, to see through the blackness clouding my vision, and try to figure out what to do next.

The only thought I can come up with is to distract him somehow, lunge for the weapon, and scream at Zander to run.

But how?

When?

We stand for what seems like forever—a silent standoff where it’s more than evident who holds all the power in this forced relationship. As time stretches I see his hands starting to shake, his facial muscles twitching, and the sweat beading, all while the sound of Zander’s escalating chants continue to add more pressure to the unstable situation.

“Shut him the f*ck up!” he screams at me as his eyes flicker all over the yard like a trapped animal unsure of its next move.

I startle when I hear a noise behind Zander’s dad. My heart leaps is my chest as the next door neighbor’s dog barks viciously through the fence. Zander’s father twists at the sound, the gun moving with him. I act on instinct, not allowing myself to think of the consequences.

“BATMAN!” I scream at the same time I lunge at Zander’s father. I collide into him, the harsh impact of my athletic frame against his knocks all thoughts from my head, except for one, I hope Zander heard me. That I got through to him and he’s running to save himself because I just sealed my fate if I’m not successful.

The sound is deafening.

The crack of the gun going off.

The jerk of his body from its recoil.

My scream, a primal sound I hear but don’t even recognize as my own. Then it stops. The wind is knocked out of me as we slam to the ground. I’m momentarily stunned—my body, my mind, my heart—as I land on top of him, before I try to struggle to get away. I have to get the gun, I have to make sure Zander is gone.

I push up off the vile man beneath me, still struggling. My only thought is get the gun, get the gun, get the gun, and my hands slip in the slickness beneath me. I shove backwards as panic and pain radiate through me. I land with a thud on my ass, the force jolting all the way up my spine and snapping my mind out of the shock it’s in.

I lose focus on the man, as I look at the blood on my trembling hands. I take in the blood covering my T-shirt with Ricky’s team’s mascot printed on the front. My mind scrambles to think, frantically searches its recesses for what I’m supposed to be doing because the sight—so much blood—is making me dizzy.

I’m confused.

I’m scared.

Dizzy.

My world goes black.





“Please, baby, please wake up.”


Colton? My head is foggy as I hear his voice and smell him near. I try to figure out what exactly is going on. My eyelids feel so heavy, but I can’t open them just yet.

“Sir, you need to let me examine—”

“I’m not going f*cking anywhere!”

It’s so warm and cozy here in the darkness—so safe—but why is Colton … Then it all hits me like a tidal wave of overwhelming emotions. I start to fight to sit up. “Zander!” His name is barely a croak as I struggle against arms, hands, not sure what else is holding me down.

“Shh, shh, shh! It’s okay, Ry. It’s okay.”

Colton.

My whole body sags momentarily. Colton is here. My eyes open, tears already welling in them, and the first sight I see is him. My ace. A shining light in all of this darkness. His eyes meet mine, the lines around his deep with concern and a forced smile on those devastating lips of his. “You’re okay, baby.”

I blink rapidly as everything else comes into focus, the flurry of activity around us in the backyard—policemen, medics. “Zander. Gun. Dad.” My mind is reeling and I can’t get the thoughts into words fast enough, my eyes flitting back and forth, focusing on a group of men hunched over something to the side of me.

I keep repeating the words until Colton leans down and presses a kiss to my mouth. I taste salt on his lips and my mind tries to grasp why he’s been crying. When he pulls back, his smile is a little less shaky. “There’s my girl,” he says softly, his hands smoothing over my hair, my cheeks, my face. “You’re okay, Ry. Zander’s okay, Ry.” He leans his forehead against mine.

“But there was blood—”

“Not yours,” he says, his lips curving into a relieved smile against mine. “Not yours,” he repeats. “You were ridiculously stupid and I’m so angry at you for it, but you went for the gun and the police took their shot. His blood, baby. It was his blood. He’s dead.”