Cory watched as the Jeep Cherokee drove through the military gates and memorized the man’s license plate number. “That’s him,” he said out loud.
“That’s who?” Luis asked.
“That’s the guy who’ll help us make our point,” Cory said.
“Him? He seems…big.”
He was. Which made him perfect. He was a senior enlisted soldier, and when Luis had pointed out all the medals on his chest, Cory knew he had to be someone important. They needed to find out where he lived. At this point, it didn’t even matter if he lived in an apartment. Maybe that would be better, anyway. More people to displace. To disturb.
Cory had wanted an out-of-the-way venue; something hard to sneak up on, with wide spaces they could easily monitor, similar to the compound of the Waco incident. Now he realized that the building didn’t matter half as much as choosing the right person.
Most of the soldiers who passed through the gates did their best to ignore them. The women and children were downright afraid. But this man looked pissed. As if he wanted to jump out of his fancy car and beat them to death.
This was the kind of soldier the government coveted. The strong ones who were used as muscle. If Cory could incite the military to try to rescue an important man, someone they desperately wanted to protect, his point would be made all the more clear.
He turned away from the young assholes he was having a harder and harder time stomaching and pulled out his phone. He dialed the number of a friend back in San Angelo who worked for the Department of Motor Vehicles. Strong Foot had plenty of members who’d infiltrated various government agencies. They needed to keep an eye out, find out what their oppressors had up their sleeves, and what better way to do that than to work for them?
Smiling when his friend answered, Cory looked down the road where the man had disappeared. Yeah, he would be perfect…even better if he had a family and children who could be exploited.
Sierra stood in Grover’s kitchen, smiling like a crazy person as she prepared a simple dinner of baked chicken. Doing something so…ordinary…felt like a gift. When she arrived in Colorado at her parents’ house, they’d done all the cooking for her. And again at The Refuge, she hadn’t had to prepare any food beyond simple sandwiches. She’d eaten fast food on her way down to Texas, and even since arriving, Grover had prepared most of their meals.
This was the first time she’d made a meal from start to finish all by herself since she was freed, and it felt surprisingly liberating. It was silly, it was just baked chicken, not a huge gourmet offering, but it was one more step toward gaining everything that was taken from her. In getting her independence back.
She was well aware of the fact that she hadn’t spent even one night in her apartment yet, contradicting her own goal. She’d been so adamant about having her own place, standing on her own two feet. Despite that, she was more than content to be here with Grover. He made her feel normal. As if she wasn’t Sierra Clarkson, former POW.
Then there was the sex…
She never thought she could enjoy sex so much. And she had no doubt it was because it was with Grover, and not anyone else. They connected on a cellular level. She didn’t feel awkward when she was with him. After that first time, she hadn’t felt self-conscious about her body, her hair, or anything else.
When Sierra heard the sound of the door opening, she turned to greet Grover as he entered from the garage. The cheerful welcome died in her throat when she saw the look on her man’s face.
He wasn’t happy. Not in the least.
She hurried around the counter to meet him. “What’s wrong? Are you all right? Is everyone else all right? Shit, where’s my phone? I haven’t checked it for a while.” Sierra was looking around, trying to remember where she’d left the darn thing, when she felt Grover’s arms close around her from behind.
“Everyone’s fine,” he reassured her, resting his chin on her shoulder.
Sierra knew the position couldn’t be all that comfortable for him, so she turned in his embrace. “Talk to me,” she begged.
“It’s that damn militia. They’re…annoying.”
Sierra blinked. “Annoying? I realize I don’t know you all that well, but I think after spending two weeks with you in New Mexico, I learned enough to know that you wouldn’t be this upset with someone who was just annoying.”
“You’re right. They’re fucking assholes who get off on scaring people and spouting utter bullshit. They’re domestic terrorists who are doing their best to spread fear and hate—and it makes my blood boil.”
Well…all right then. This reaction fit the man she’d gotten to know much better. Sierra flattened her hands on his chest and rubbed gently. “What happened?”
Grover sighed, and Sierra could tell he was trying to get his ire under control. “Nothing they haven’t been doing for the last couple weeks,” he said. “But this time I got a front-row seat to five hours straight of them harassing anyone who came in or out of the gates. They’re offensive, and they don’t even realize they have no idea what the hell they’re talking about. They’re making stuff up and twisting the truth to fit their own warped agenda—or their leader’s agenda, most likely. And it’s impossible to tell what they’re really trying to accomplish. I have no idea what they hope to get out of their protests in the first place. It’s not like the Army is going to shut down the base or anything. I don’t like not knowing what they might be planning…it makes me nervous.”
Sierra wasn’t sure what to do to help him. “I’m sorry.”
Once more, Grover sighed, then he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he seemed to have gotten himself under control. At least a little. “No, I’m sorry. I’m being a downer.”
“Grover, you don’t have to always be upbeat and happy. That’s not how relationships work. When you’re upset, I’ll do what I can to cheer you up, and when I’m not happy, you’ll do the same. Now, tell me what I can do to make you feel better.”
More of the angst bled out of his eyes as he looked down at her. “You’re doing it. You’re here. And something smells really good.”
Sierra shrugged. “It’s only chicken.”
“Do you know when the last time I walked in here and had dinner waiting for me was?”
“No.”
“Never,” he said succinctly. “Thank you for cooking for us. How was your day?”
“Good. Why don’t you go up and change. Maybe take a shower. It’ll help. I mean, I know that a nice long shower has helped me when I’ve gotten overwhelmed recently. Maybe it’s because I went so long without that luxury, but something about standing under hot water seems to clear my head. It might do the same for you.”
“Sounds good. Then I want to hear all about your day with Ember at the gym,” he said.
“Deal. Do you want green beans or corn with your chicken?”
“Beans. There’s garlic bread in the freezer too.”
Sierra smiled up at him. “Okay. I’ll get everything ready while you change.”
Grover lowered his head and rested his forehead against hers. “Thanks for being here, Bean.”