Epilogue #2
“I personally don’t care that much about that sort of thing.
I mean, I admire their dedication to their sport, and how hard it is to become an elite athlete and to qualify for the Olympics in the first place, but I don’t need their signature on a piece of paper to remember them by.
But…we’re all gonna do everything we can to get Shin-Soo Choo’s autograph for Logan. ”
“Oh my gosh! He would die!” Devyn gushed, knowing all about the little boy’s obsession with the baseball outfielder.
“Yup,” Lucky agreed.
“Well, with a name like Lucky, I’m sure you’ll be the one to track him down and get it,” Devyn said with a smile.
“You know,” Lucky said seriously, “there have been times when I seriously hated my name. I haven’t always felt very lucky.”
Devyn reached up and held on to his wrists, locking her gaze to his.
“You might’ve been a POW, but you weren’t killed and were rescued.
You found me…and I was like a needle in a haystack.
” She winked. “Somehow out of all the people in this world, we managed to find each other. I’d say you’re pretty damn lucky, and I think your name fits you to a T. ”
“You’re right,” he said softly.
“I know,” she said smugly.
Just then, his cock slipped all the way out of her body, and they both groaned.
“Right, now it’s really time to get up,” he told her, sitting up with Devyn still on his lap. He scooted over to the edge of the bed and stood, holding her ass with both hands.
“I still can’t believe you can haul me around as if I’m as petite as Riley.”
“You’re perfect for me. I love your long legs, and your tits, and your ass, and your—”
“Right, I get it. My beautiful personality,” she said with a laugh.
“That too,” Lucky agreed.
He put her on her feet in the bathroom and reached for the tap to turn on the water.
Devyn could feel his come dripping down her inner thigh, but for the first time since that awful day in the woods, she didn’t feel dirty.
Not in the least. She felt loved. Completely and utterly.
And that trumped just about everything else.
She leaned into Lucky as they waited for the water to warm.
“I love you, Lucky. So much. I may not have been sure about getting into a relationship with you when I got here, for so many reasons, but not one of those was about you. I was scared. Scared of finding exactly what I’ve been looking for all my life and then losing it. ”
“You’re stuck with me,” Lucky told her, hugging her to his chest. “Forever.”
“Good.”
They smiled at each other, then Lucky took hold of her hand and helped her step over the rim of the tub into the shower. She wasn’t perfect, neither was he, but somehow, they were perfect together.
Sierra Clarkson lie panting on the dirt floor of her cell. Once she knew for certain she was alone…she smiled. She couldn’t believe her manipulation of her captors had worked. Yes, she was still locked up in the dark. Yes, she was still hungry. But she’d gotten them to do exactly what she’d wanted.
Namely, to cut off her hair.
Most people would think she was insane for wanting them to shave off her auburn locks. Maybe she was. But being held captive by Taliban terrorists for months on end tended to do that to a person.
At one time she’d been so proud of her red hair.
She knew it was one of her best features.
People commented on it as much as they talked about her height, or lack thereof.
But after months of being a hostage, and not showering, her hair had become the bane of her existence.
When she slept, cockroaches would crawl into the filthy strands and she’d have to shake them loose every morning.
Her guards loved to grab hold of her hair and haul her around that way.
And she absolutely couldn’t stand how disgusting it felt.
She wasn’t sure when she’d decided that her hair had to go, but once she did, she focused all her energy and attention on making that happen.
When she was first captured, she remembered begging for clean water to wash with.
Her captors had laughed and purposely withheld it.
Same with food. The more she begged to eat, the longer they made her wait before finally throwing some scraps her way.
She’d learned quickly that showing interest in anything would make the assholes holding her captive take it away simply to make her suffer.
So…she’d simply started paying extra attention to her hair whenever they were around.
Asking for a comb. A bar of soap. Complaining about the condition of the strands.
Begged them not to pull her hair, said she’d do anything as long as they didn’t shave it off.
It took a month or so—at least, that’s how long she thought it took; she had no way to gauge the passage of time—but just that morning, they’d shown up with a pair of shears and wicked grins on their faces.
Sierra had done her best to fight them off, not wanting her captors to think she was eager for what they had planned. In the end, they’d tied her down and done exactly what she wanted them to do.
Shaved her bald.
Running a hand over her head, Sierra grimaced at the unevenness of the hack job, but she couldn’t help feeling thrilled with how much lighter and cleaner she felt. The assholes thought they were continuing to torture her, but they’d played right into her hands.
Now, if she could use her psychology degree to somehow convince the Taliban that she wanted to be with them, that she never wanted to be released, she would.
But she knew that wouldn’t happen. She was their prize, even if she was treated worse than a piece of livestock and mostly forgotten in the back of this mountain cave.
As she closed her eyes, Sierra couldn’t help but be relieved she wouldn’t have to fight the cockroaches out of her hair when she woke up. Today was a good day. A very good day.
She just had to keep holding on in the hopes that soon she’d have a great day, and be able to escape from the assholes who’d captured her. Their day of reckoning would come, she hoped. Until then, she’d savor the small victory she’d gained.
Doc wasn’t all that fired up for the next assignment.
He knew his teammates were happy to have a more laid-back mission, where they knew the chances of them being shot at or taken hostage were low.
He didn’t blame them; if he had a woman or child waiting for him, he’d feel the same way. But he didn’t. And it kind of sucked.
He wanted what his friends had. Wanted to feel that bone-deep connection with someone. He had that with his team, but it obviously was very different with a woman.
Doc was a quiet man. He’d never been very flamboyant.
Outside missions, he rarely shared his opinion unless it was expressly asked for.
He hoped to find someone like him. An introvert who was somewhat shy; someone he could sit quietly with and read a book and not feel as if he was holding her back.
He’d seen firsthand when soldiers hooked up with women who were complete opposites of themselves. It never worked.
Doc didn’t know where he was going to find a slightly nerdy woman who was pretty—but not too pretty—who liked fading into the background like he did, and who would think the highlight of her week was going over to one of his teammates’ houses to hang out.
Sighing, he shook his head. He was looking for someone who didn’t exist. A unicorn of a woman.
At thirty-four, he was the oldest on the team, and most days he felt it.
His knees hurt almost all the time, and he was dreading the day they’d give out completely and he’d have to leave the team.
The thought of not being a Delta, of not working side by side with the men he felt as if were his blood brothers, was extremely painful.
Doc forced his attention back to the meeting he was currently attending.
They were reviewing one last time before they headed overseas to the Olympics Games.
They were going to be a man down on this mission because Riley’s baby was due in the next four weeks or so, and Oz didn’t want to take a chance that he’d miss it.
He was allowed to take leave time and to skip this deployment since it wasn’t a high priority or high risk.
“I just found out which building we’ll be assigned to,” Trigger said, handing each of them a map of the Olympic Village, where they’d be bunking. “We’ll be on the same floor with the US pentathlon athletes and water polo teams.”
“Damn, not the beach volleyball players?” Grover quipped.
“Any chance the baseball players are nearby?” Lucky asked. “Since Oz isn’t going, it’s up to us to find Logan’s idol and get his autograph.”
“Nearby is relative. But I’m sure we can manage to finagle our way into the building the team is living in.
The problem is that a lot of those professional baseball and basketball players aren’t staying in the Olympic Village.
They’re renting high-end, five-star hotel rooms and taking limos to the venue every day. ”
“Shit,” Brain mumbled.
“I have faith in us,” Lefty said. “We’ll get it.”
“Speaking of which, remember that our job is to guard the athletes and venues, not to be starstruck by the famous players,” Trigger said.
Doc rolled his eyes. “We know, jeez. You think this is our first rodeo?”
“No, but it has to be said. Some of the men and women who’ll be there are quite well known. Especially in the world of social media.”
Doc wanted to roll his eyes again, but resisted.
He didn’t care at all about social media.
He saw his friends every day, and if he wanted to know what was going on with them, he picked up the phone and called.
Besides, Delta Force operatives were encouraged to not have profiles because of Operations Security.
He was out of touch as to which celebrities were popular these days, but he didn’t give a shit.