Rescuing Casey: Delta Force Heroes, Book 7

by Susan Stoker

  “Steak. They’re resting now and should be done in a minute or two.”

  “Yum. Steak,” Casey said, pulling away from him to lift the lid off a pan on the stove. “And rice? Excellent.”

  Casey helped him dish up their supper and he carried their plates to the table. “Sit, I’ll get you a class of wine.”

  They shared general conversation throughout the meal, and Beatle mused again about how different his life was now compared to a few months ago. He never thought he’d be the one making sure dinner was ready for his woman when she got home from work. He wasn’t an asshole, but he’d always pictured himself in a traditional man-woman type relationship. Where he worked and made the bulk of the money for the household, and his girlfriend would clean and have dinner ready for him when he got home.

  Casey blew that stereotype out of the water. She made way more money than he ever would in the Army, and many nights, she got home after him. Their house wasn’t exactly clean, but it didn’t bother either of them. They were together and happy, that was all that mattered.

  They were still getting to know each other, and every morning, Beatle woke up wondering what he’d learn about Casey that day. He couldn’t imagine ever being bored with her.

  When they were finished, he brought the dishes to the sink and left them there; he’d put them in the dishwasher later. He took Casey’s hand and led her to the couch. He sat, pulling her onto his lap as he did.

  “I talked to the commander today,” Beatle said.

  “And?”

  “The police down in Costa Rica found that guy from the jungle the other day.”

  Her eyes widened. “The one I pushed into the bullet ant mound?”

  “Yeah. That one.”

  “He’s alive?” Casey asked.

  Beatle could see the hope in her eyes. He didn’t know she was worried about the asshole’s fate, but he should’ve realized it. She wasn’t a soldier. She wasn’t used to violence. She sure as hell wouldn’t want the death of another human resting on her shoulders. “Yeah, sweetheart. He’s alive.” The relief in her eyes was confirmation that he should’ve talked to her about this before now.

  “Good. What’d he say?”

  “He confirmed what we thought all along. Marie paid him and the others in his village to kidnap you and the girls. When they were rescued, and she found out that you were too, she said she’d double what she had offered them if they tracked you down for her then killed you.”

  Casey’s shoulders slumped. Beatle hurried on to tell her the good news.

  “It’s over, Case. He confirmed that no one was looking for you. When Marie left Costa Rica without paying them, and after so many of them were killed in the jungle, no one had any desire, or the funds, to chase you all the way back to the States.”

  “So I don’t have to worry about anyone tracking me down and trying to kidnap me again?” she asked hopefully.

  “No.”

  Every muscle in her body relaxed against him, and Beatle was thrilled he could do that for her.

  “And Marie? Have you heard anything more about her lately?”

  This was the not-so-fun part of the new information he had for her. “She’d dead, Case.”

  Casey sat up on Beatle’s lap. “What? I thought she was getting help?”

  “She was. Her trial wasn’t set to start for another couple of months, and the Florida DA ordered that she remain in the mental health facility. But I guess she fooled people into believing she was more stable than she was. After she received word that her research was morally reprehensible and would never see the light of day, she hung herself in her room, between the nightly welfare checks by the guards.”

  Casey sagged back against him, and Beatle waited for her to process what he’d told her.

  “I’m not sure what to feel about it,” she admitted after a minute or two.

  “Feel however you want, sweetheart. I’m not going to condemn you if you’re happy she’s dead and you don’t have to testify. I have to admit, I wasn’t all that thrilled about you having to relive what you went through at her trial.”

  “Well, me neither, but I’m not exactly thrilled she’s dead.”

  Beatle put his finger under her chin and turned her face toward his. He gazed into her eyes for a long moment, trying to figure out where her head was at. When he didn’t see guilt, he was satisfied. “You wouldn’t be the woman I loved more than life itself if you were happy she was gone. But, I’ll tell you, I am ecstatic she’s dead. She kidnapped you. Tortured you. Hired men to rape then kill you. Then she tried to fuck with your head some more—and laughed when you were so out of it, you thought me and the others were giant bugs. I’m not sorry she’s no longer living.”

  “Well, jeez, Beatle. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” Casey mumbled.

  Beatle let her break eye contact and he gathered her against his chest. “I won’t pretend to be sad she’s gone, Case. I’ve killed more people than I can even remember in my lifetime, all of them bad. I didn’t get to kill Marie Santos, but I’m not sorry she’s gone. I’m just sorry she didn’t have to suffer like you did. If I had my way, she would’ve died by being thrown into a hole in the ground and left to die.”

  “You’re a little bloodthirsty, Beatle,” Casey informed him.

  He couldn’t help it. He smiled. “When it comes to you, yeah, I am. You have a problem with that?”

  She didn’t answer for a beat, and just when Beatle was getting concerned he’d gone too far, she shook her head. “Nah. I’m okay with you going all he-man on someone’s ass if they try to hurt me. As long as you’re okay if I do the same.”

  “Case, you couldn’t hurt anyone.”

  “I hurt you,” she informed him, running her fingers over the scar on his arm where she’d sliced him with the knife when she’d been tripping.

  He chuckled. “I didn’t even feel it,” he reassured her for the millionth time.

  “Huh,” she huffed. “Liar. But yeah, you’re right. Violence isn’t really my thing. But I do have access to lots and lots of creepy-crawlies. I can get my revenge without having to resort to violence.”

  Beatle shuddered. “God. I don’t even want to think of what you could do with all those bugs in the lab at the university.”

  Casey giggled. Then she looked up at him, her gaze intense. “I’m happy.”

  Beatle ran his hand up and down her back. “I’m glad. I am too.”

  “As much as what happened sucked, it led you to me. I can’t be sorry about that.”

  Beatle took a deep breath and nodded. “Love you, Case. You’ll never know how much.”

  “I do know how much, because I love you the same way.”

  Beatle stood then with Casey in his arms. She didn’t protest, simply held on to him as he moved.

  He went down the hall to their bedroom. Without saying a word, he put her down on the bed and reached for the hem of her shirt. Beatle needed to be inside her. Now.

  An hour later, they lay snuggled together on the king-size bed, the covers in disarray around them, but neither made a move to pull the sheet up and over themselves. A light sheen of sweat covered their bodies and their breathing wasn’t yet back to normal after their enthusiastic lovemaking.

  “Beatle?” Casey asked.

  “Yeah, sweetheart?”

  “Do you think we could maybe hang a hammock in the corner of the room?”

  Beatle threw his head back and laughed. He had a feeling Casey would always keep him on his toes. “I’ll go online tomorrow and order one,” he told her when he had himself under control.

  Her fingers absently traced patterns on his chest, and he felt her smile against his shoulder. “When I was in that hole, I wanted to live so badly,” she said softly. “I didn’t know why; all I knew was that I couldn’t give up because something great was right around the corner waiting for me. Then you appeared. I looked up and knew with one glance, you were that great thing waiting for me.”

  Bea
tle’s throat closed up and he couldn’t speak. All he could do was tighten his hold around her. As if she understood, Casey leaned up, kissed his jawline, and settled her head back against him.

  Later, after Beatle had pulled up the covers to keep their cooling bodies warm, and when he heard Casey snoring lightly, Beatle found the words he hadn’t been able to call forth earlier.

  “I had no idea I’d find the other half of my soul in the jungles of Costa Rica.”

  * * *

  Truck let himself into his house, closing the door silently behind him. He didn’t know if Mary was sleeping, and if so, he didn’t want to wake her. She didn’t sleep well as it was. He put down his bag in the front hall and went into the family room.

  She was fast asleep on the couch, a cooking show playing on the television. Truck kneeled down next to her and simply stared at her for several minutes, soaking in all that was Mary.

  Her hair had grown back enough that she no longer looked sick. The fact of the matter was that she was no longer sick. She’d beaten cancer…twice. But this last time had been close. She’d worn a wig until her hair had grown back enough that she could style it. No one had noticed because she went out of her way to avoid Rayne and the others as much as possible.

  Despite being closed now, Truck remembered how her beautiful brown eyes had been dulled by pain and suffering. The chemo this last round was tough, but it was the radiation that had almost done her in. The skin on her chest had literally been burnt because of the treatments. It had been painful to the touch, and she hadn’t been able to lift anything. The doctor had prescribed several different highly potent painkillers, and she’d used at least three different types of creams to try to both relieve the pain and heal her skin.

  But that was behind her…them…now. All they were dealing with was the lingering numbness and tingling in her fingers as a result of the chemo. But the doctor had said that too should fade with time.

  Giving in to temptation, Truck ran one of his hands over the soft, short hair on her head. She’d had beautiful, thick brown hair before she’d lost it, and it had grown in fine and gray. She’d gone to her hairdresser and had her put in pink and purple stripes and highlights, much as she’d worn it the first time he’d seen her.

  Even though his touch was light, Mary’s eyes opened. “You’re back,” she said sleepily.

  “Yeah, babe. I’m back.”

  “You good?” she asked.

  “I’m good,” Truck told her with a small smile. Then he stood and easily picked her up. She didn’t protest, simply snuggled into his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Truck loved that Mary was never afraid to speak her mind. If she was tired, she admitted it. If she was pissed at him, or anyone else, she had no problem letting him know. He understood her, probably better than anyone. To others, she seemed like a bitch. Hard. Unbending. But it was times like this, when she relaxed and let him care for her, that Truck loved the best.

  He carried her into the master bedroom and placed her gently on the huge California king-size bed. She immediately turned on her side and fell back to sleep. Truck wanted to climb in next to her, but had a few things to do first.

  Reluctantly, he stepped away from the bed toward the door. His eyes were drawn to the framed photo on the wall just inside the door. It had been taken a couple months ago, on their wedding day. It was the day his friend, Fish, had needed him and the team out in Idaho, but Truck had finally convinced Mary to marry him, so he hadn’t been able to go.

  Truck had loved Mary practically since the first time he’d seen her. She’d been super snarky to him, all in defense of her best friend, Rayne. Their wedding day had been one of the best days of his life.

  Truck ran a hand over the glass-covered picture and smiled. Mary thought after she was better, they’d get a divorce and no one would ever have to know they’d been married. Mary still had her apartment, but more often than not she ended up sleeping at his house. When she was sick she went out of her way to talk to Rayne on the phone instead of seeing her as much as possible, but when they did meet, she made sure to have Rayne pick her up at her apartment.

  But there was no way he was letting her go. Not after he’d been sleeping next to her most nights for the last couple of months. Not after he’d held her when she felt like shit after chemo. Not when she’d been in so much pain from the radiation burns on her chest that she’d let him put the salve on her skin.

  He closed his bedroom door quietly and headed back to the living room. Nope, Mary Weston was his. Period. Forever.

  * * *

  Blade sat on his couch and picked half-heartedly at his meal. He’d made a microwave dinner because he was too tired for anything else. No, that was a lie. He was simply too depressed to make anything else.

  He was happy for his sister. Casey and Beatle were deliriously content, and Blade was glad. But he’d realized earlier that now he was the last man on the team who didn’t have a woman of his own. The rest of the guys were home with their wives and girlfriends now, happier than pigs in shit. And here he was, pathetically sitting on his couch, looking at a blank TV screen, wondering if he’d ever find someone who could put up with him.

  His phone rang. The house phone. The one he never answered and only had because it was cheaper to get the cable and Internet package if he threw in the phone line too. It periodically rang, but he never picked it up. But tonight, he was bored. And restless. And…jealous. Jealous of the happiness his teammates had because he wanted it for himself.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi! My name is Wendy. How are you?”

  “Uh…good.”

  “Awesome. I’m calling tonight to ask if you’ve thought about your future.”

  “My future?” Blade asked. He knew he wasn’t going to buy anything from someone who’d cold called him, but the woman’s voice on the other end of the phone was melodious and soothing. How pathetic was he that he was prolonging the conversation because he liked the sound of her voice?

  “Yes, your future. Are you married?”

  “No.”

  “Kids?”

  “No again.”

  “Right, well, you must have family.”

  Blade could tell that she was getting desperate. “Yeah, Wendy. I have family.”

  “Great!” Her voice was perky again. “If anything happens to you, you’ll want to make sure your family doesn’t have any burdens. You’ll want to take care of them. I can help you do that. Did you know that term life insurance is way cheaper than whole life? It is. And for only about twenty bucks a month, you can get a sizable policy that will allow your loved ones to give you the funeral you deserve, and give them closure and peace of mind at the same time. Also, when you—”

  Blade tuned out the actual words she was saying, and concentrated once again on the sound of her voice. He closed his eyes and imagined that she was sitting next to him on his couch and talking about her day. Pathetic, but it made him feel less lonely.

  “Sir?”

  Blade blinked and opened his eyes. He realized that she’d stopped talking and was waiting for his response.

  “Yeah, Wendy?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I’m in the Army.”

  “Oh…uh…okay?”

  He chuckled. “I’ve got life insurance. I don’t need any more.”

  “Oh.” Now she sounded defeated. “I understand.”

  For some reason, Blade didn’t want the conversation to end. “How are you doing tonight, Wendy?”

  “Me? Um…I’m okay, I guess.”

  “You don’t sound okay,” Blade observed.

  “Well, you’re the eighty-third person I’ve called tonight and I haven’t sold even one policy.”

  “That sucks,” he commiserated, not sure if she was trying to make him feel bad so he’d order a life insurance policy he didn’t need, or want.

  “Yeah.” Her voice perked up. “But at least you didn’t hang up on me. Or call me names. Or s
wear at me.”

  “That happens?”

  “All the time,” she told him.

  “I can’t imagine making cold calls is all that fun,” he observed.

  “It sucks,” she whispered.

  “Then why do you do it?” Blade honestly wanted to know.

  “Because I need the extra income. I’ve got a day job, but working here a few hours each night gives me enough extra that I can keep my head above water.”

  Blade understood that. When he’d joined the Army, he’d been flat broke. Even ketchup sandwiches were too expensive some days. “I’ve been there,” he told her.

  “Can I…can I ask you a question?”

  “I think you just did,” Blade said dryly.

  She giggled, and the girly sound went straight to his cock. Blade blinked in surprise. He hadn’t been thinking about the woman on the other end of the phone in a sexual way, but the second she laughed…all of a sudden, he wanted her. Had no idea what she looked like, or anything about her other than her name, but that quiet, sweet sound was like nothing he’d heard before.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Aspen,” Blade said without hesitation.

  “Really? Like the tree?”

  It was his turn to chuckle. “Yeah, like the tree.”

  “I like it. It’s unusual. Aspen?”

  “Yeah, babe?”

  “Thanks for being nice. I’ve had a rough day, and while I didn’t really expect you to buy any insurance from me, I appreciate you being nice about turning me down.”

  The thought of someone being not nice to her struck Blade hard. “You’re welcome. So…do you do this every night?”

  “What?”

  “Call strangers and talk to them?”

  “Well, no. I only work a few days a week, and as I told you before, most people hang up on me or cuss me out.”

  “If you call me again, I won’t hang up or cuss you out,” Blade told her.

  She was silent for a moment, then asked, “Are you saying you wouldn’t mind if I called again?”

  “That’s what I’m saying,” Blade confirmed, wondering if he was out of his mind. The guys would give him all sorts of hell if they knew he was so hard up for companionship that he was practically begging a stranger to call him. Hell, she could be decades older than him, or hideously ugly, but he didn’t think either was true.