Cory seemed to ponder her words.
She pressed on. “Is there someplace you can stash him? Like a storm shelter or something? There are lots of tornados in Texas, right? Wouldn’t this place have a room for that? Something secure?”
“There’s that media room down the hall,” Luis said. “It doesn’t have windows.”
Grover’s heart began to beat wildly in his chest. Fuck, his woman was smart. He hated how she’d learned to manipulate people so well, but he was proud as fuck at that moment. He still wanted to beat her ass for putting herself in this situation in the first place, but he couldn’t believe how she’d almost turned this entire fucked-up scene around in just a few minutes.
Of course, nothing had been decided, so he couldn’t get his hopes up quite yet.
But he’d do what he could to help the situation.
“Don’t,” he croaked.
Cory turned to look at him. “Don’t what?”
“I’m being compliant. I’m doing what you want. I can just stay here.”
Cory eyed him for a long moment, and Grover thought for a second maybe he’d overplayed his hand. Cory looked back at Sierra. “Why?”
“Why stash him? Because I don’t trust anyone in the military! Not for one second. And why put someone on him and waste a gun anyway, when you could be using them to watch what’s going on outside? Also, look at the size of him. Unless you plan on just shooting him, if he does decide to do something, it’ll take several of your guys to subdue him.” She shook her head, as if her logic should be obvious. “Putting him in a closet, or that room with no windows or whatever, means he can’t signal to anyone and he can’t escape. It’s not like he can dig a hole through the floor.” Sierra laughed as if that was the most ridiculous thing ever.
“I swear I won’t do anything,” Grover argued, almost whining.
“Fuck, man, you’re pathetic,” Brody said with a roll of his eyes.
“Stay here with her,” Cody ordered Tony. “If she moves a muscle, shoot her.”
Tony looked unsure for a moment. “Um…okay.”
Grover was positive the guy wasn’t going to shoot Sierra. He looked extremely uncomfortable with just the thought of it.
Cory stalked over to where Grover was sitting. His arms had been zip-tied to the chair, and he couldn’t defend himself as Cory once more pulled out his pistol. He whipped Grover in the face once. Twice. Then a third time.
Grover could feel blood dripping down his cheek. He moaned as if the beating had broken him.
Cory smiled in victory. “Take him into the damn media room. Remove anything that even remotely looks like it could be used as a weapon. Then lock him in there and barricade the door. Oh—and shoot the lights out.”
Finally, he turned back to Sierra. “Welcome to the Strong Foot Militia, little girl.”
She grinned. “Thanks.”
“If you do anything that makes me think you’re not who you say you are, I’ll make you wish we’d shot you the second you walked into this house,” he warned.
Sierra slowly stood. She’d wisely stayed on her hands and knees throughout the conversation with Cory, wiping away blood from the split in her lip where he’d hit her. “I’m exactly who I say I am. And I’m ready to see the Army pay for what they’ve done to me.”
“Take her upstairs,” Cory ordered Tony. “Tell the others what’s going on.” He looked at Sierra once more. “You…put on a show in that window in the front room. Cry, carry on, beg for help. It’s about time we got this show on the road.”
“Sounds fun,” Sierra said with a grin. Then Tony grabbed her arm roughly and practically dragged her toward the stairs.
Grover wanted her to look back. Wanted to communicate with her somehow. Tell her how much he loved her. That he was proud of her. But she didn’t look back as she disappeared up the stairs.
“Cut the ties,” Cory told Brody.
The younger man did as ordered, not caring that he cut Grover’s wrist in the process of removing the zip-ties.
When the plastic cuffs fell to the floor, Cory ordered, “You. Stand up.” He poked Grover with the barrel of the automatic weapon as he spoke.
Grover stood, purposely stumbling a bit, making it seem as if he was unsteady on his feet.
“Go check out the room, I’ll bring him to you in a second,” Cory told Brody. “And you, go back to the damn door and make sure no one else decides to join our party.”
When the two men were out of earshot, Cory leaned in close to Grover and lifted the pistol he still held. He jammed the barrel against the underside of Grover’s chin.
For a second, he thought the man was going to shoot him right then and there.
Instead, he said quietly, “It’s too bad you’re gonna miss the show. But the bitch was right. It’ll be better to not have to worry about you when the shit hits the fan.”
“What’re you talking about?” Grover asked, sounding as scared as he could. He needed information—and he had a feeling this was his last chance to get it.
“A fireworks show,” Cory said with a dark chuckle. “We’ve got an RPG. Did you know?”
Grover shook his head.
“We’ve been priming the area for weeks. Everyone knows our name, knows the Strong Foot Militia is here and unhappy. The media’s been tripping over themselves to talk to us, to film us. When they hear about this, about how easily we overtook one of the big bad soldiers we’ve been protesting against, they’re gonna want in on the action. Once they all arrive, get those cameras set up—and we both know they’re gonna show in droves; no one’s gonna want to miss the most exciting thing to happen around here in ages—we’re gonna use that rocket to get this party started.”
Grover pressed his lips together in dismay.
“I’m gonna light up the sky. And no one will be able to stop themselves from returning fire. They’ll set your pretty house ablaze like it’s the fucking Fourth of July. Everyone will hear the screams from the poor men—and one woman—trapped inside. They’ll see firsthand how far the government is willing to go to silence dissenters. That they’ll kill their own citizens…for what? For holding signs and protesting? It’ll open their eyes. The country will finally see that we’re right. The government is nothing but a big damn bully—and it’s time to revolt. To rise up against them.”
“Do the others know what you’re planning?” Grover couldn’t help but ask. He wanted to remind the asshole that when they died, it wouldn’t be because they’d waved a few signs. It was because they took someone hostage and shot a damn RPG at the military.
Cory snorted. “Those pussies? No way. All they care about is smoking pot and not having to work. I need their fear and screams to be authentic. But they’ll be heroes in the end. Martyrs for the cause.”
“It’s ready!” Brody yelled from down the hall in the direction of the media room.
“Walk,” Cory ordered, jamming the pistol into the flesh under Grover’s chin harder.
With no other choice, and his mind spinning with how the hell to end this insanity without dozens of deaths and his house burning down, Grover did as he was ordered.