Page 99 of Rescuing Mary

Casey needed Truck to help with her PTSD because he knew exactly what she’d been through in the jungle.

And Rayne. Fuck. Rayne needed Mary as much as Mary needed her. She wouldn’t be the same if Mary didn’t make it out of that bank in one piece.

No one spoke, lost in their own heads, until the truck pulled into the bank parking lot. Within minutes, a second deuce-and-a-half pulled in and Trigger, Lefty, Oz, Grover, Lucky, Brain, and Doc hopped out. They were all armed and quickly passed out the extra rifles they’d brought for Ghost’s team.

Doc had just headed off to herd the bystanders away from the building when there was a loud explosion from inside the bank.

Without hesitation, the thirteen men headed for the doors. They hadn’t had time to make a plan, but they didn’t need to. They were Delta Force. They each knew what the others were going to do without having to ask. Without having to plan.

Mary struggled to breathe. Truck was lying on top of her, covering her from head to toe. Her head was under his chest and he had his arms wrapped around it, protecting her from debris. Her ears were ringing, but that was the least of her worries.

She’d been so scared when Truck had walked toward the explosives rather than away from them after Deuce left them alone in the vault. But he hadn’t lingered, had just fiddled with some of the wires before coming back for her.

Currently, she couldn’t breathe. The smoke in the vault was thick enough she couldn’t see anything, and Truck’s weight was bearing down on her, heavier than when he’d first thrown himself around her.

“Truck,” she croaked, then immediately started coughing.

He didn’t respond. In fact, she couldn’t feel him moving at all.

Frantic now, Mary wiggled until she was able to get an arm out from under her body. Not thinking about how close she’d come to being raped, or how she’d practically thrown her fake boobs at Deuce, or that he might return any second to gather what valuables he could, Mary kept doing whatever was necessary to get out from beneath Truck.

When she was finally able to get her torso out from under him, she realized why he was so heavy. Through the smoke, she saw the table he hadn’t been able to manhandle over to their corner had been blown off the floor and had landed on top of him.

Using all her strength, Mary was able to shove it off his back. It thudded to the floor next to him—and Mary stared in dismay at the blood on the back of Truck’s head.

“Shit, Truck,” she wailed. “Not again!”

She wanted to turn him over, but didn’t want to hurt his head any more than it already was. Her hand moved without thought and she pressed it against the cut on his scalp, feeling the wetness of the blood there. She carefully turned his head to the side so he could breathe, hoping like hell she was doing the right thing. That she wasn’t paralyzing him for life.

She waved her hand in front of his face, trying to clear the air of the smoke. Mary continued to cough herself, not able to pull in a deep breath. “Come on, Truck. Breathe,” she ordered.

The door to the vault was pushed open, but she didn’t even turn around.

A flashlight flickered over her and Truck, but Mary’s attention stayed on the man lying so still next to her.

“It worked!” Deuce shouted. “Motherfucker, it worked!”

Mary spared a quick glance up and saw that the explosives Truck had set had indeed done exactly what he’d designed them to do. The boxes that were directly next to the explosives were mangled beyond recognition, but the ones around those merely had their fronts blown off. She could see jewelry and cash strewn about on the floor. There were lots of papers too, but Deuce obviously didn’t care about those.

He opened a backpack and began to stuff as much as he could into it. “Hey, Shoebaloo!” he yelled, looking up toward the door.

Mary looked toward the door instinctively—and gasped.

Ghost and Trigger were standing there.

She remembered the other Delta from the last time the bank had been held up. Neither man had made a sound. Both Deltas had their rifles up and pointed at Deuce.

Before she could do anything, Deuce had obviously looked to see what she’d gasped at and had dropped his backpack and raised his weapon to point it at her.

“Drop it,” Ghost ordered.

“Now, motherfucker,” Trigger added.

“Back away—slowly,” Deuce countered. “Or I’ll blow her away.”

Mary held her breath, not liking that she was in the middle of the standoff.

She was fairly sure Ghost and Trigger would take care of Deuce, but just in case he got off a lucky shot, she threw herself over Truck’s back, trying to protect him as much as she could.