Page 27 of Rescuing Mary

Truck raised the binoculars and peered through them at the clearing below. He knew his team was nearby, as was the other Delta Force group. They’d spread out and surrounded the area. Along with the commander’s meticulous research, they’d been doing reconnaissance for a few days now, and they knew the routines of the men holding the seventy-plus girls hostage as well as they were going to know them.

They’d been sent to this hotter-than-hell country in Africa because a French diplomat’s daughter had been kidnapped, along with seventy or so other girls. Rebels had stormed the international school in the middle of the afternoon, threatening to kill everyone if anyone interfered. The diplomat just happened to be visiting the school that day, of all days. And he’d brought along his ten-year-old daughter with him on this trip to show her how people around the world lived.

The rebels had taken the French girl right along with the others. Many of the students were from the nearby villages, but there were also around ten girls who belonged to the international aid workers helping out in the area. The students had been held hostage for over a month by the time the Deltas had been called in.

The rebels had been demanding the government release several hostages in exchange for the girls’ safe return, but so far, negotiations had failed to bring an end to the standoff. The French Special Forces were currently on the other side of the country, checking out another tip, but it had turned out the Deltas were on the right track after all.

Truck glared at a rebel through the lenses. He’d just smacked a girl—around twelve, if Truck had to guess—and was laughing at her tears. They’d seen some awful things over the last few days and everyone was eager to make a move. Truck thought about Annie being in this situation and it made his blood boil. No one had seen the little French girl, but there was no doubt she was there.

There were about forty or so rebels guarding the camp. At any one time, there were ten watching over the tents with the girls. There were three tents holding the hostages—and the guards took turns dragging the girls out one by one and taking them into a smaller tent nearby.

All the Deltas knew what was going on, but they couldn’t make a move to stop the abuse until they were sure they could take out the rebels without any retaliation against the hostages.

Truck couldn’t wait to kill the men. He wasn’t usually bloodthirsty, but he couldn’t help it in this situation. Anyone who hurt little girls deserved to die a slow and painful death. He’d always hated violence against women and children, but after getting to know Annie, and getting to know his best friends’ women, and after having met and married the love of his life, he abhorred it even more.

If anyone dared to look at Mary the wrong way, he wouldn’t hesitate to put them in their place. Mary could take care of herself, but she shouldn’t have to. It wasn’t cool that men thought it was okay to smack a woman’s ass because of what she might be wearing. It wasn’t okay for them to make suggestive remarks or to tell her that she’d look better on her knees in front of him.

Truck hadn’t always been an angel. Before his friends started meeting their women, they’d gone to strip clubs, picked up women in bars. He’d wrapped his arm around a woman’s waist without asking if it was okay first. He’d palmed asses, stolen kisses, and pulled women onto his lap, even when he knew they’d feel his hard-on under them. But now that Mary was in his life, as well as all the others, he’d never disrespect a woman like that again.

Watching the rebels hurt the children they were holding hostage was unbearable. He wanted to move immediately and stop it. If they could prevent even one girl from horrible memories she’d have for the rest of her life, it’d be worth it. But he had to wait. They had to make sure they had their plan down pat. If they didn’t, those kids he wanted to save could end up dead.

Along with his hatred for the rebels, his frustration over his relationship with Mary wasn’t helping his emotions. While he was thrilled as could be for Hollywood and Kassie and their newborn daughter, he couldn’t help but be jealous of his friend as well.

He wanted that. Wanted to be able to hold Mary’s hand in public and not worry if she was comfortable with that or not. Wanted to have a family with her. Because of her cancer, he had no idea if she’d be able to have kids naturally, but that didn’t matter. They could adopt. Or if she didn’t want kids, they could go to the shelter and find some cats and dogs that needed homes. It didn’t matter what kind of family they had, as long as they had one.

He’d thought that, after the robbery, Mary would loosen up toward him, but things remained awkward between them. He could tell she was still holding back—and he wanted more from her. Wanted her to stop fighting what she felt for him.

“You all right?” Beatle asked after he’d crawled up next to him.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t look all right.”

“I’m. Fine,” Truck bit out between clenched teeth.

“How’re things with Mary?”

Truck let out a breath of frustration and turned to Beatle. “You think now is the time to discuss this? We’re about ten minutes from storming the castle, so to speak.”

Beatle shrugged. “We know what the plan is. We’re just waiting until it’s time to kill all those motherfuckers. I want to know how my friend is doing. Things looked good between you and Mary at the bank.”

Truck knew Beatle was fishing, but he needed someone to talk to, so he didn’t put him off like he might’ve at any other time. “I thought so too. But something’s off. I don’t know what.”

“You or her?”

And that was the question. Mary had definitely softened toward him, but he wasn’t sure if it was enough. “Me.”

“You regret marrying her?”

“No.” The answer came immediately. Truck didn’t regret what he’d done. Mary was still alive because she’d gotten the treatment she’d needed.

“Then what?” Beatle asked.

“I don’t want a pity wife. I want a real one. I want what you have, Beatle. A woman who looks at me as if I’m her everything. A woman who’s happy to see me when I come home at the end of the day. Maybe has dinner waiting and who doesn’t mind when I don’t want to talk after a tough mission. I want someone who isn’t afraid to touch me, and to be touched in return.”

“So you want the Disney version of a relationship,” Beatle drawled.

“I guess,” Truck mumbled.