Page 100 of Rescuing Mary

Just as she’d covered him, Trigger fired and Deuce fell to the floor.

Unmoving. A hole in the middle of his forehead.

Ghost strode over and kicked away his pistol, even though the man was obviously dead.

“Dammit, Trigger,” Ghost complained when he’d stood up. “You know how much paperwork we’re gonna have to fill out now?”

Mary could hear the humor in his voice. She could tell that Ghost didn’t really care that Deuce was dead. She’d make sure the cops knew that Trigger didn’t have a choice. The gang member could’ve easily shot her, or Truck, or either of the Deltas.

Trigger shrugged. “Don’t care. They call me Trigger for a reason.” He smirked. “Trigger-happy, you know. Besides, he pointed a gun at Mary. No one points a fucking weapon at a teammate’s woman and gets away with it.”

Mary wanted to smile at the other man, but didn’t have it in her at the moment. She looked at Ghost and said, “Truck won’t wake up. The table hit him in the head and he’s bleeding.”

Ghost didn’t say anything, but immediately came over to where she was kneeling over Truck. Trigger slipped out of the room, but Mary’s attention was on the man lying still as death beside her.

“Lift your hand,” Ghost said.

“He’s bleeding badly,” Mary told him.

“I can see that.” Ghost looked her in the eye. “I got this, Mary. Trust me.”

She nodded and slowly slipped her hand away from Truck’s head. She watched as Ghost parted Truck’s hair and checked out the wound before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a pair of gloves. He put one on his hand and covered the wound on Truck’s head once more. “He’s going to be okay, Mary. It’s not that deep. A couple stitches at the most. Maybe even only one staple.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Ghost told her. “I’m more worried about his brain. It hasn’t been that long since he rattled it the first time.”

Mary chewed on her lower lip and couldn’t think of anything to say. Truck had to be all right. He had to.

Just as she had the thought, Truck moaned.

She leaned down and asked, “Truck?”

His eyes fluttered, and Mary said his name again.

This time his eyes opened all the way. He saw her, but then closed them again immediately. “Fuck,” he swore. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“You’re okay,” Ghost told his friend. “Just a little bump on the back of the head.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the rest of the team crowded into the vault. Fletch and Hollywood picked up Deuce and hauled him out, handing him off to someone Mary couldn’t see. Beatle and Blade stood above her, Truck, and Ghost. Coach moved the table out of the way to give everyone more room.

“He okay?” Fletch asked.

“How’re you, Mary?” Hollywood chimed in.

“Fine. It’s Truck I’m worried about,” Mary said, looking back down at the man she loved with all her heart. It was hard to believe she’d actually said the words. She didn’t know if Truck had heard them or not, but lightning hadn’t struck her down as a result of voicing them. She was taking that as a win.

“Can you all shut the fuck up?” Truck said in a whisper.

“Truck?” Ghost asked.

“My ears are ringing and my head hurts like a motherfucker,” Truck said.

Mary bit her lip again in worry. He’d looked at her, but hadn’t seemed to recognize her. Had he lost the rest of his memory? Had he relapsed? Fuck, she couldn’t go through everything again.

Okay, that was a lie, she could, she’d do anything for Truck, but she sure as hell didn’t want to.

“It’s a good thing you’ve got such a hard head,” Beatle quipped. “Otherwise your brain would be mashed potatoes by now.”