My body is numb, swaying at the top of the rail where I’ve locked my legs securely to get the best shots. But I don’t raise my camera. Not even an inch.
Only my hands as they fold over my mouth and nose, my gaze tightening further with every fierce buck. Every time his seat leaves the bull’s back.
Each second crawls past.
Bodacious snaps up and down, round and round like a machine. The whiplash alone would have a normal man out like a light by now...
The buzzer blares through the silent arena.
Hadley grapples with the strap down rope.
It doesn’t budge.
Bodacious the Third pays no attention to the sound, thundering through the arena, ratcheting up the aggression as he flies further away from the bullfighters.
Hadley gets tossed to one side, only to hang from his hand.
No . . .
Come on, pull out.
Levi’s shouting.
Cowboys rush into the arena.
The crowd is on their feet as the cowboy tied to a freight train of a bull goes limp.
Oh god.
I scramble to the ground, my camera swinging around my neck.
I make it to the return gate of the arena in time to see Hadley slammed into the rails. Logan is by his side a heartbeat later. The two other bullfighters have the bull’s attention.
Hadley drops to the dirt, Logan wrapped around him, and a sob rattles from me. Someone is shouting at me. Hands are waving in my blurred vision as tears pour down my face.
Two figures close in, waving their arms over their heads.
A rough grip hauls me into the fence. The bull snorts, tossing its head at me as it flies past.
“Fuck, Maggie. Hell.” Levi crowds me against the rail, protecting me from the bull. Slow seconds dip past once again, and I’m being held at arm’s length. “Hey, you good?”
I nod, dazed.
The second he releases me, I’m running for the arena, heading for the limp man in the dirt, his friend kneeling by his side.
As soon as I make it to Hadley, I’m pushed aside by Willow and her crew. He’s up on a board, neck braced and focused, medics carrying him away from me. I can’t see his face for the helmet, but his head bobs side to side.
I stand in the dirt, tears streaming down my face.
The scoreboard overhead flashes a ninety-two-point ride. The crowd gasps.
The cowboy who scored that ride almost makes it to the return chute. He raises a hand off the board into the air in salute in a fleeting moment of consciousness.
The crowd cheers.
I can’t break my gaze from his body, now motionless on the gurney again. Air rushes my shriveled, frantic lungs and I bend over. Bile rises in my throat. I push up to leave and find Knox walking for me. Brady and Spence would have gone with Hadley.
I shake my head at Knox, my chin trembling.
