Chapter 15 #2
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.”
Mary winced at the imagery. “You aren’t helping,” she muttered.
“If you’re not careful, I’ll get Casey to find some of those bullet ants and put them in your fucking bed, Beatle,” Truck said.
No one said a word for a moment, letting Truck’s words sink in.
“As if,” Beatle said, extreme emotion making his voice thick. “She loves me.”
“Yeah, she does,” Truck said. Then his eyes opened again, and he stared at Mary. “Come here,” he said, trying to lift his hand and pull her down to him, but he couldn’t move that well with Ghost’s hand on the back of his head, holding him still.
Mary leaned down until she was almost nose to nose with Truck. She held her breath as she stared into his beautiful brown eyes. “Yeah?”
“Reach into the front pocket of my jeans, babe.”
He rotated his hip enough so Mary could get to his pocket. Confused, she did as he asked, not wanting to do anything that might stress him out. It was obvious how much pain he was in, and she had no idea how badly he was hurt.
She reached into his pocket, ignoring Hollywood’s smartass comment about watching what she was grabbing down there, and pulled out a small velvet bag.
“Open it,” Truck ordered.
Mary sat back on her heels and loosened the tie at the top. She turned it over, and two rings fell into her palm.
Frozen, Mary stared at Truck.
“Our wedding rings,” Truck said. “I’m back from my mission, so we can both wear them again. I won’t wear mine if you’re not wearing yours.”
“Truck,” Mary whispered, overwhelmed.
“Help me sit up,” Truck asked, and Ghost immediately helped Truck into a sitting position. His hand never left the back of his head and he had a firm grip on Truck’s arm to keep him upright.
“I love you, Mary,” Truck said. “I asked you to marry me because I love you. Not because of my insurance. Well, that too, but it was a convenient way to get you to say yes and to save your life.”
“You remember,” Mary said.
“All of it,” Truck confirmed. “Every second. You’re mine, Mary Laughlin. There’s a wedding certificate somewhere that proves it. And I’m not letting you go. Ever.”
Mary licked her lips and tried not to break down. She ducked her head and slipped her wedding band on the ring finger of her left hand. Then she reached for Truck’s hand and put his ring back on his finger as well. He clasped her hand with his before she could pull away.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Mary nodded. “You took the worst of it.”
“Good.” His eyes moved from hers to someone above her head. “I assume all the gangbangers are taken care of?”
“Of course,” Blade reassured him.
“And Jennifer?” Mary asked. “She was in on it. She was dating Deuce.”
“The cops have her in custody,” Blade said.
“Good,” Mary breathed.
“The paramedics should be here soon,” Blade told her, and the second the words were out of his mouth, they heard sirens from the open door of the vault.
“We have to stop meeting in here like this,” Truck told Mary, gazing into her eyes once more.
“I’m quitting. Effective right now,” Mary returned.
“Good.”
“Make way!” a feminine voice said. “Paramedics!”
“Oh, fuck no,” Mary exclaimed. “No fucking way is she putting one hand on my man!”
The Deltas all chuckled but Mary was serious. When Ruth stepped into the vault, Mary stood and put her hands on her hips. “No. Turn the fuck around.”
“Move aside,” the other woman said snottily. “I need to see the patient.”
Mary’s hands curled into claws and she would’ve leapt on the woman, but Truck’s teammates moved too quickly.
Beatle grabbed her around the waist and Hollywood took hold of Ruth’s arm and moved her backward and out of the vault altogether.
Mary heard him informing her in no uncertain terms that she was going to see to the wounded gang members, not Truck.
“My Mary,” Truck murmured and pulled on the leg of her pants.
She immediately forgot about Ruth and went back to her knees next to Truck. His eyes were only open in slits and it was obvious he was still in a great deal of pain. “Shit, sorry, Truck. I forgot about your head. I didn’t mean to yell.”
He smiled at her. “I love seeing you get all protective and jealous over me.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she denied.
A man dressed in a navy-blue shirt and a pair of khakis entered the room with his medical kit. “Everyone step away from the patient,” he said in a tone that meant business.
Everyone but Mary and Ghost moved away from Truck, giving the paramedic room.
“Who’re you?” he asked, looking at Mary.
“My wife,” Truck answered for her. “She goes where I go.”
“Fine, but I need to examine you first.”
And with that, Ghost proceeded to tell him what he knew about Truck’s injury.
Within five minutes, Truck was loaded on a gurney and was ready to be transported to the hospital. Mary refused to let go of his hand, and couldn’t take her eyes away from their rings on their fingers.
Just as they were about to walk out of the vault, Truck called out, “Beatle?”
“Yeah, man?” Beatle answered.
“Be a pal and pick up my wife’s boobs and make sure they get sterilized and returned to her at the hospital, would ya?”
Mary couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped at the looks on the others’ faces.
For the first time since her surgery, Mary didn’t give one shit about what she looked like without her boob inserts or what others might think of her. She and Truck were alive, and he remembered. Everything else was unimportant.