“Hummm, I like this position,” she said drowsily.
Grover huffed out a laugh. “Me too, but in about two-point-three seconds, you’ll need some space.”
“True,” she said with a small chuckle of her own. “As long as you don’t let go of my hand, I’m good.”
And she was. Grover had no idea how other couples slept, but he didn’t really care. They’d forged a bond back in those mountain cells, holding hands through the bars even though they couldn’t see each other.
Sierra fell asleep shortly after, and just like he’d predicted, she shifted off him, onto her side with her knees tucked up. But he kept hold of her hand, and she settled quickly.
Staring up at the ceiling in the dark, Grover felt restless. Things with Sierra were good. Better than good. She was settling quickly into life here in Killeen, and he couldn’t be more thrilled. His friends were all happy and healthy, as was his sister. He should be content and ecstatic that he’d found someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
But deep down, the situation with the Strong Foot Militia nagged at him. Something just wasn’t right. They’d been protesting too long. Not that there was a timeline on how long someone should or could rally, but everything about this seemingly pointless protest seemed…wrong.
There also seemed to be two distinct groups. The men who were older and marching around with signs. They seemed almost bored. Then there was the younger group, usually accompanied by Cory, the man Grover was now almost certain was in charge. They looked like they were barely out of high school and sounded as if they were parroting someone else’s words, not what they truly felt.
They also seemed…on edge. Unlike the other protestors. As if the young men were looking forward to something.
Commander Robinson had done some digging and learned that the older man was named Cory Holliday. He had a record, but only for a few minor offenses. Drug possession and trespassing. He was born in Wyoming, and his father had been kicked out of the Marines for insubordination. There were really few details on him other than that.
The team had talked, assuming the father had passed his hatred of the military on to his son, and all these years later, Cory was still mired in that hatred.
Because the Strong Foot Militia consisted of Americans, the Deltas—and the military in general—had to tread carefully. The last thing they wanted was to cause a bigger incident. But Grover didn’t like the look in Cory’s eyes. He was planning something, he felt it in his gut, but until the group actually acted on whatever it was they had in mind, his hands were tied.
Grover had no doubt the group was armed, they were just smart enough not to openly carry while they were protesting. It was the uncertainty that was eating at him. He and his fellow Deltas relied on information to form a plan of action. Without intel, he felt decidedly at a disadvantage. And since the group had seemed to take an extreme interest in him, Grover was even more uneasy.
Thank God he was only working a half day tomorrow. Trigger had seen how stressed he’d been, with Cory doing his best to antagonize him, and had scheduled Grover for the Saturday morning shift. Since they had no upcoming missions for the foreseeable future, he was then free to leave early.
Sierra was going to be working with Gillian tomorrow, helping her with a fiftieth anniversary party. He wanted to do something special for her to make up for his mood this week. Make a fancy dinner, then maybe they’d sit outside on his deck and watch the sunset. It didn’t really matter what they did, as long as he got to spend time with her.
She needed to head over to her apartment and grab some more clothes too. Grover knew he should feel guilty that she still hadn’t spent even one night there, but he didn’t. He could’ve volunteered to stay at the apartment with her, but he preferred his house.
Glancing over at his nightstand, he could just see the outline of the tissue holder sitting there. He hadn’t shown that hiding place to Sierra. The entire top lifted up, concealing another weapon.
He knew all his guns were overkill, but he’d rather be safe than sorry, especially now that he had something precious to protect.
Grover squeezed Sierra’s hand involuntarily, and she stirred next to him.
“Grover?”
“Sorry, everything’s fine. Go back to sleep,” he said quietly.
“Mmm, kay.”
When she’d settled again, Grover took a deep breath. He needed to stop seeing problems where there weren’t any. Several therapists he’d seen over the years had told him that he was overly protective. Of his family, his team, his house. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. But he’d rather be overprotective than not prepared.
He leaned over and kissed Sierra on the forehead before lying back. “Love you, Bean,” he whispered.
To his surprise, she said, “Love you too.”
Smiling, Grover could only shake his head. One day soon, one of them would get the courage to say those words when they were fully awake, in the light of day. But for now, he’d hold her words close to his heart. He was a damn lucky man. He had great friends, family, and now a woman who loved him. Everything would be all right. Life was good.
Cory stood in front of his chosen members of the Strong Foot Militia, the ones he’d handpicked to help him demonstrate the increasingly alarming control of the government.
“It’s time,” he told the others. “Tomorrow, we take action. We know where our target lives, and we were led to him for a reason. His house is perfect. It’s isolated, and the government won’t hesitate to take action, to show the world how far they’ll go to protect their secrets.”
“Cool!”
“This is gonna be fun!”
“We’ll only be in jail for a little bit, right?” Kevin asked. “My little sister turns ten in two weeks and I promised her I’d be home for her party.”
Cory kept the sneer off his face…barely. These punks had no idea what they were in for. They thought they were going to follow the soldier home, harass him a bit, get the newspapers to show up, then make a big show out of being arrested. Little did they know the mission they were about to embark on was so much bigger.
They’d all be household names for years to come. They would be written about in history books. They were going to make the ultimate sacrifice. Just like David Koresh and his followers.
When their fellow Americans saw how out of control the military had become, how they were willing to use deadly force on their own citizens to shut them up, they’d open their eyes. They’d stop blindly supporting a corrupt government. They’d stop paying taxes and funding murderous missions.
“Don’t worry,” Cory told Kevin and the others. “Tomorrow, Americans are going to understand how badly they’ve been duped by their leaders. They’ll no longer thank military members for their service. They’ll see how wrong they’ve been, how the very people they’re thanking are nothing but murderers. The wool will be removed from their eyes once and for all. And they’ll have us, the Strong Foot Militia, to thank for it.”
“I don’t understand how taking over one guy’s house is gonna do all that,” Tony muttered.
Cory was moving before Tony had finished speaking. He punched the kid square in the face, sending him flying backward. The joint he’d been smoking flew out of his hand and landed on some old newspapers in the corner of the room. Zeke and Cameron quickly snuffed out the fire so it didn’t burn the abandoned house down around them.