Rescuing Mary

by Susan Stoker

Mary’s chin went up. She wasn’t going to cower to anyone. She’d already faced down death twice and won. No punk-ass kid was going to make her break now.

  Mary knew she’d have to work really hard to hold her tongue and not antagonize the men though. She might be able to harangue and be a bitch to Truck and his friends, but that was only because she knew they wouldn’t hurt her…because they were honorable, good men.

  These guys? She instinctively knew they wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet into her. She’d seen a lot of men and boys just like them growing up. They’d been taught to think women were beneath them, and any attempts to show them they were wrong were met with swift and immediate retribution.

  “Get the keys to the vault, bitch,” the one boy sneered.

  Mary didn’t think he was much older than eighteen, if that. She nodded to a drawer at the end of the counter. “They’re in there,” she told him.

  “Then get them,” he spat impatiently.

  “I didn’t want you to think I was reaching for a weapon or a secret panic button,” Mary said calmly, even though inside she was anything but calm.

  “I don’t care if you do or not, I’ll blow your ass away before you can try anything. Now hurry the fuck up,” he growled.

  Mary shivered, but hurried to do what he wanted. She vaguely heard others around her crying and the thugs yelling, but she was focused on her task. Once she had the keys in her hand, the man grabbed her arm and forced her toward the back. The other herded Rebecca into an office with the other hostages. Mary didn’t like that she was separated from everyone, but she tried to keep herself calm.

  Just as they were about to go into the vault, the last place she wanted to be alone with a gun-wielding gang member, the door to the bank opened.

  She turned to see who had entered—and stared in shock as Truck walked into the bank.

  She glanced at the clock. Eleven twenty-six. He was right on time for their lunch together. Dammit.

  “Truck.” His name came out involuntarily, and the second it did, she winced.

  “Get your hands up!” one of the gang members yelled, and Truck immediately did as ordered. Two brown paper bags dropped at his feet as he complied.

  “Who the fuck didn’t lock the door?” one of the men yelled.

  “Snake was supposed to.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Grass,” snarled the man Mary guessed was Snake.

  “Both of you shut the fuck up!” the man holding Mary’s arm yelled. Then he turned and shouted, “Jennifer, lock the door!”

  Mary stiffened. Jennifer? He knew her?

  Before she could fully process the implications, the man holding her arm asked, “You know him?”

  Mary was afraid to say yes, so she said nothing at all. That was apparently the wrong thing to do, because the man wrenched her arm up behind her back, and Mary couldn’t help the yelp that escaped. The pain was intense, and she went up on her tiptoes to try to take the pressure off her arm.

  “I asked you a question, bitch.”

  “He’s a customer,” she gasped.

  “I don’t believe you,” the man holding her sneered, and tightened his hold on her arm. The pain was so intense, Mary couldn’t help but blurt out the truth. “Yes, I know him! He’s my boyfriend.”

  “Nice,” the man drawled. “You, get your ass over here!” he yelled at Truck.

  “Not sure that’s a good idea, Deuce.”

  “Did I ask you, Fez? No.”

  Mary tried to memorize the names the men were using, but it was hard to concentrate with her arm wrenched behind her like it was and with Truck’s pissed-off vibe hitting her.

  “I’m here,” Truck said. “Let her go.”

  “You shagging this bitch?” Deuce asked, yanking up on her arm as he asked.

  Truck nodded once.

  “You want to keep shagging this bitch?” he asked.

  Truck nodded again.

  “Good. You look strong. I’m gonna need you. But if you do anything I don’t like, I’m gonna put a bullet in her knee. Then her other knee. Then her fucking head. Got me?”

  “Got you,” Truck said evenly.

  Mary glanced up at his face and didn’t see one ounce of emotion. His lips were pressed together tightly and he didn’t so much as glance in her direction. All his attention was focused on the man holding her.

  “Good. Come on.” Deuce walked sideways, never loosening his grasp on Mary’s arm, keeping Truck in his line of sight. He hauled her to the vault that held all the safety-deposit boxes. Once inside, he grabbed the key ring out of her hand then flung her to the side of the space. “Sit over there and don’t fucking move or say a word,” he ordered.

  Without hesitation, Mary lowered herself to the floor in front of a set of the boxes in the vault and hugged her knees to her chest. Her arm was throbbing, but she silently massaged it, trying not to bring any more attention to herself than she’d already received.

  “You, go over there,” Deuce ordered Truck, pointing to the other side of the room. “Snake, let the others in when they get here. Should be two more minutes.”

  Mary bit her lip even as the pit in her stomach got bigger. The others? Shit, how many more? This was getting worse and worse by the minute.

  “Bet you’re wondering what we’ve got planned,” Deuce said to Mary.

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “The Ladbrook Boys don’t take kindly to not gettin’ what they want. And last time two of my boys were here, they most certainly didn’t get what they wanted. So we’re here to make sure everyone knows not to fuck with us and that we always get what’s comin’ to us.”

  Mary blinked. Did this guy know how stupid he sounded? They were going to get what was coming to them for sure. Didn’t they realize that lunchtime was one of the busiest times for a bank? That there were going to be plenty of people who knew the bank wasn’t supposed to be closed at lunch and would call the cops? They’d never get out of the bank alive.

  “And in case you’re wonderin’, we put a sign on the door saying there was a training meetin’ going on right now and the bank is closed. And we’ve got some of our boys keepin’ the cops busy with calls about holdups all over town. There’s even gonna be a fire or two and some traffic accidents. No one’s gonna come here until we’re done and gone. The Ladbrook Boys are gonna make sure this town knows we mean business.”

  Mary could only stare at him. Shit, they’d actually thought things out pretty well after all. But why would they spend so much time worrying about the safety-deposit boxes when they could hit the other vault and be in and out in a matter of minutes with stacks of cash?

  “I can’t open the boxes,” Mary told him softly. “I told you that when you toured this place. We really do only have those three master keys, and the owners of the boxes have the other keys to open them. I wasn’t lying about that.”

  “I know. Doesn’t matter,” Deuce said as he threw the keys to the side.

  Mary was confused. Why did he have her get them in the first place if he knew they wouldn’t work? “It doesn’t?”

  “Nope. My girlfriend says the money in the vault is rigged with ink bombs. The second we get too far from the bank, they’ll go off and the cash will be useless. But Jen told me about the jewels and cash people store in here.”

  Mary shook her head in confusion. “When customers open a box, we don’t stay in the room while they put their belongings inside. Jennifer can’t know what’s in here and what’s not.”

  Deuce had the pistol pointed at her face before she could blink. “You sayin’ my bitch is lying?”

  Mary immediately shook her head. “No.”

  “Right, didn’t think so. She said there’s a camera in here—and she’s been watching it. Says there’s been a bunch of customers lately who have stored away diamonds and cash. Clean cash. Not like that shit in the other vault.”

  Deuce glanced at Truck, making sure he hadn’t moved closer, then back at Mary. “The other reason this is happening is because of
you, bitch. Jen told me all about how it was you who called the cops on my friends the last time they were here. She’d convinced the other bitches to hand over the cash in their drawers, but then the cops fucking showed up. Because of you, my friends are locked away. You called the pigs from inside this very vault! Fitting then, that this is where you’ll learn the error of your ways. You should’ve just huddled back here and let my homies do their thing.”

  With that, Deuce stood up and pointed his pistol at the phone in the corner. He fired a shot and the phone exploded, plastic pieces flying everywhere.

  Mary shrieked and cowered down, covering her head and praying that Deuce wasn’t about to turn the weapon on her or Truck.

  Just then, five more men came into the safety-deposit vault. All five were carrying boxes with them. “Fucking awesome!” one of them exclaimed when he saw what Deuce had done. “Good shot! Guess no one is calling the cops this time.” Then he laughed.

  “Watch this,” Deuce said with a smirk. And he turned the weapon toward the door to the vault. He shot several times, and two of the other men pulled out their own guns and joined him.

  When the dust settled, Mary saw that the bullets had disabled the lock mechanism on the thick door. The metal of the door itself was hardly dented, but there was no way it would properly lock anymore. During the last robbery, Mary had been able to shut herself and the other women inside, but Deuce had effectively taken away that option.

  “Where do you want us to put these boxes?” one of the men asked once Deuce had reloaded his pistol.

  Mary turned to him—and saw what they were carrying for the first time.

  Truck obviously noticed as well, because he said, “Fuck,” in a low, disbelieving voice.

  Deuce smiled. “That’s right, Scarface. We’re gonna blow this fuckin’ place up. We don’t need fucking keys to get into these boxes. We’ll just blow them open.”

  Mary stared at all the men in horror. They put the boxes down and began to unpack them. She wasn’t sure what she was looking at, but Truck obviously knew. His hands had curled into fists and it was clear he was pissed off. He wasn’t trying to hide his emotions now.

  “You’re gonna get everyone in here killed,” Truck told Deuce.

  “Nah. Maybe you two, but it’s all good as long as we get into the boxes and get the loot.”

  He smirked as he kept his pistol aimed at Mary. The other men began to pile what looked to Mary like little green boxes against the wall of safety-deposit boxes.

  They jammed a wire into each one and started to go back for more of what she could only assume were explosives when Truck said, “Look, I’m in the Army. Demolitions. Let me help. I don’t give a shit if you steal the crown jewels, I just don’t want anyone to get hurt. And if your plan is to blow open the boxes to steal what’s inside, you aren’t going to achieve that with what you have going on there.” He used his head to indicate the two gangbangers setting up the explosives.

  “Yeah?” Deuce asked. “Why should I believe you?”

  “Because I want to get out of this alive. And if you set that off,” he gestured to the explosives once more, “like that, none of us will make it out of here in one piece. You’ve got enough TNT to take down this entire block of buildings. There’ll be nothing left of anyone but tiny little pieces.”

  Deuce studied Truck for a long moment, then turned to the others. “Whaddaya say, Shoebaloo? Think we should let him help?”

  Shoebaloo? Mary would’ve laughed if there was anything remotely funny about this situation.

  “Fuck yeah, might as well use ’im. We want to get out of here with the fucking jewels and the money.”

  “Come here,” Deuce said to Mary.

  She blinked. “Me?”

  “What’d I say, bitch? Come. Here.”

  Mary scrambled to her feet and tried to ignore the twinges of pain in her arm where he’d so cruelly gripped her earlier. She walked over to where Deuce was standing and the second she got close enough, he reached out and wrapped a hand around her throat.

  Mary immediately reached up to grab his wrist, but he put his pistol to her forehead. She froze as her life flashed before her.

  Deuce turned to look at Truck. “You make one move I don’t like, and your girlfriend’s brains will be splattered all over the inside of this vault. Hear me?”

  “Yes,” Truck said between clenched teeth.

  “You better not be lying to me,” he said. “The only chance you have of getting out of this alive is if you help us. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Truck said. “I’m not lying. I know what I’m doing when it comes to explosives.”

  Deuce nodded but didn’t take the gun away from Mary’s forehead. His hand was still wrapped around her neck as well, making it difficult, but not impossible, to suck in air.

  Mary’s eyes sought out Truck’s and they met for a split second, before he looked away and bent to look into the boxes the other gang members had brought in.

  What she’d seen in his gaze made her close her eyes and hardened her resolve. She didn’t see regret. Or even worry. She saw unadulterated rage. She saw one pissed-off, deadly Delta Force soldier. She had no idea if he’d be able to get them out of this. She didn’t doubt his skills when it came to the explosives, but it was still at least ten against one.

  But she’d take those odds any day of the week…as long as the one was Truck.

  For the first time in her life, Mary put her full trust in a man. She didn’t worry about what she should do to get out of the situation. She wasn’t concocting a Plan B in her mind. Truck would either get them out of this, or they’d die together. It was that simple…and that complicated.

  Truck racked his brain to come up with a way to alert his team that he needed them, but nothing came to mind. Deuce had taken both his and Mary’s cell phones, and since he’d disabled the phone inside the vault, that option was out.

  He was on his own. He normally wouldn’t care, he could handle himself just fine, but Mary was there. If he screwed up, she was the one who would pay the price, and that was unacceptable.

  The asshole Deuce had finally moved the gun away from her forehead, but that didn’t make him feel any better. Now he had one of his gangbanger friends guarding her…and the guy was extremely handsy. Every time the fucknugget touched Mary, Truck wanted to fucking kill him.

  But he couldn’t. Not yet. He had to bide his time.

  Deuce had zeroed in on the one thing that could control him. Mary.

  The TNT the gang had brought in could do some serious damage but they obviously had no clue how powerful the stuff was. The assholes packing it against the safety-deposit boxes had been using way too much. He hadn’t lied; if the gang members had set it off, everything would’ve been blown to bits. He wouldn’t stand by and risk Mary’s life like that. He’d had to speak up. He didn’t regret it, he just hoped he could rig the explosives to do the least amount of damage possible while still doing what Deuce wanted it to do…namely, open as many of the miniature safes as possible.

  It took twenty minutes or so to remove most of the explosive materials the other men had placed against the side wall of the vault. He put it all back in the boxes and put the boxes by the door of the vault so the gang members could remove it from the general area. It took another ten to rig up the electric blasting caps and attach the wires. It was a crude job, but Truck thought it should work.

  Truck stood up holding the detonator, which was connected to the wires coming out of the explosives. “There. It’s done.”

  Deuce clasped his hands together in glee. “Awesome. Shoebaloo? Want to have some fun before we get our loot?”

  Truck stiffened. He better not mean what it sounded like he meant.

  The other gang member smiled and nodded. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  “Snake, out. Get Cheese, Grass, and Nightshop in here.”

  “Want me to take this guy out too?” Snake asked, gesturing to Truck.

  “No. He stays. I wa
nt him to watch. Keep your eye on him, Shoebaloo.”

  Every muscle in Truck’s body tensed as the extremely overweight gangbanger raised his pistol and aimed it at him. They weren’t going to hurt Mary in front of him. No fucking way.

  He thought about setting off the explosives right then and there, but he couldn’t risk Mary getting hurt. Then he thought about bum-rushing Deuce, but there was the pesky matter of the gun the other man was holding. Shit…he’d probably be okay if he got shot once, but there were more gang members on their way in. They’d fill him with holes, and then he’d never be able to help Mary.

  Truck felt helpless—and it pissed him off even more.

  Deuce went over to Mary and grabbed her shirt, stretching the neck far enough that he could see the lace of her bra.

  Truck growled and took a step toward the gangbanger and Mary—but stopped when Mary calmly reached into her shirt and pulled something out.

  She held it out to Deuce and said with only a small tremor in her voice, “If you’re hoping to get a look at my tits, let me make it easier for you. Here.”

  Deuce stared at her hand and dropped his own from her shirt. “What the fuck is that?”

  “It’s my boob,” Mary said, as if she were offering him a piece of candy or something equally innocuous. She then reached inside her shirt again and pulled out the other one, and tried to give that to him too. “I had breast cancer. My tits tried to kill me so I had them chopped off. Now I wear fake ones. See? It’s squishy, just like the real thing.”

  Truck would’ve laughed at the look on Deuce’s face if there was anything remotely humorous about the situation. The gangbanger looked horrified and disgusted.

  “You don’t have any tits?”

  In response, Mary pulled her shirt taut so it flattened to her chest, proving that no, she had no boobs at all.

  “Are you one of those trans people or somethin’?” Shoebaloo asked in horror. “Are you a dude?”

  Mary took a deep breath and shrugged. “Does not having tits make you trans?”

  “She’s got short hair, dude,” Shoebaloo said. “I bet she’s a guy.”

  “Fuck,” Deuce said, stepping away from her.