Chapter 15 #2
Grover had convinced her it would be too dangerous for her to drive back to her apartment when she was as tired as she was.
Not to mention the fact that she’d forgotten to unpack her sheets, and she had no idea which box they were in anyway.
Since her suitcase was still at Grover’s house, it seemed a no-brainer for her to stay.
The moment they’d crawled under the covers, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, and before she knew it, she was naked and straddling Grover’s lap.
She’d ridden him long and hard, loving being on top.
He obviously loved it too, if his moans and the way he couldn’t take his eyes off her body were any indication.
Sierra thought back to what she’d said to Grover earlier that day, about being happy.
She’d forgotten what true contentment and joy felt like.
While in captivity, her entire focus was on surviving each day and not going out of her mind from loneliness.
The experience had an odd way of making time stop, until the months of joylessness had felt like years.
She still had a lot to figure out, namely what she was going to do for a living.
But she had an amazing boyfriend who cared about her well-being, a group of women who’d embraced her wholeheartedly without even having met her, a roof over her head—even if she hadn’t slept there yet—and food to eat.
She was unbelievably fortunate. Even with everything that had happened to her, she wasn’t capable of feeling bitter.
How could she be, with Grover at her side?
Snuggling closer, she smiled when his hand tightened in hers. She was on her side next to him, her legs drawn up, and they were holding hands. They’d slept like this every night while at The Refuge, and it was even more intimate now that they’d made love.
“Sleep, Bean,” Grover said sleepily.
Sierra kissed his bare shoulder and nodded. “You too.”
“I will now that you’re here.”
Knowing that Grover seemed to need her as much as she needed him was a heady feeling.
He’d finally admitted earlier this evening that he did have a few nightmares after New Mexico, when she was back with her parents and he was here.
She hated that he still felt guilty about her captivity, and suspected she’d never fully be able to make him feel otherwise. It was just the kind of man he was.
Closing her eyes in contentment, Sierra slept.
Cory Holliday cleaned his gun almost by rote. He’d been able to disassemble and reassemble any kind of weapon in under ten seconds by the time he was eight. His dad had made sure of that.
Many people would say that Cory had a tough childhood, but he didn’t really see it that way.
His father had been in the Marines, had given his all to his country…
and then he’d been kicked out without a second thought.
Dishonorably discharged. For some bullshit charge that the government had never even been able to prove.
When he’d come home, he was no longer the proud man Cory remembered. He was bitter, angry, and vengeful.
After his dad was sent home in disgrace, the goal for the remainder of his life was to show the world how corrupt and abusive the military really was. He’d passed his hatred on to Cory. Teaching his only son to hate the government as much as he did.
If his father was still alive today, Cory knew he’d be proud of him. Proud to stand by his side, to participate in what he had planned for the brainwashed soldiers stationed at Fort Hood, and everyone who lived and worked in the area.
Cory was more than ready to move on to the next part of his plan.
The Strong Foot Militia had been in Killeen for a few weeks.
There were several dozen of them who’d made the journey, taking turns picketing outside the main gate of Fort Hood.
Cory loved seeing the discomfort and even fear on the faces of soldiers, contractors, and family members as they entered and left the Army post.
While the main group was camped just outside the city, Cory had handpicked ten of his youngest, loyal, ardent followers for a more important mission. The actual reason they were in Killeen in the first place.
The eleven of them were holed up in an abandoned house at the moment, which had gotten very old.
They’d scared the closest neighbors bad enough that no one would dare call the cops.
But this place wouldn’t make the kind of impact they needed.
No—they needed a larger house. A fancier one, preferably occupied.
One that would make everyone cringe in horror when it blew up.
And they needed bait.
Cory knew it wasn’t as simple as just taking over some random person’s house.
No, they needed a reason for the reporters to show up.
For the military to take notice and do their best to take it back.
Cory and his group could egg them on, force their hand.
Make them use deadly force to end the siege.
Just like they’d done in Waco. The country had been horrified at the government’s actions during that siege, and Cory wanted a repeat of the event.
He was ready to die for the cause. As would his followers.
In return for their sacrifice, he needed to make sure the country was watching.
Seeing firsthand how out-of-control their government had gotten.
Everyone needed to witness their murder—then, and only then, would the citizens of this great country finally have the blinders ripped from their eyes.
They’d rise up against the tyranny they’d been living under without even knowing.
But again…they needed bait. A highly decorated and respected soldier to dangle in front of the military community. Dare them to try to rescue one of their evil own.
Cory had been watching and waiting for the right person as they picketed outside the gates of hell, otherwise known as Fort Hood.
It needed to be someone with a high-enough rank that the brass would care about losing.
A private or someone else equally expendable wouldn’t do.
He and the others had been following soldiers home for days now, and they’d yet to find a house that would work for their plan.
They were all too small, in crowded neighborhoods.
Too crowded for Cory and his men to control the situation effectively.
They just needed to be patient. Eventually they’d find the perfect soldier. Maybe someone with a family. Kids always ramped up everyone’s emotions.
“Pass me another joint,” Adam called out.
Cory sat in the back of the room, continuing to clean his rifle, simply an observer as Sam, Cameron, Rob, Adam, and Zeke smoked pot.
Brody, Alan, Tony, Luis, and Kevin were on duty at the moment.
Standing outside the Army post, mingling with other Strong Foot members, harassing anyone who went in or out.
If they could gain more followers with their protests, great.
But newcomers wouldn’t be involved in the master plan, nor would the rest of their group.
The dozens of members who’d come to join the protest…
but couldn’t be trusted to carry out Cory’s will.
The ten chosen men were from their home base of San Angelo.
They were all young, several were high school dropouts, and most were easily managed with the promise of free drugs.
Even they didn’t know his ultimate plan, but they didn’t have to.
They were true followers. They’d do what he said, simply because he said it.
Putting his rifle on the floor, Cory grabbed the small bag of pot beside him and walked over, handing it to Adam.
“Thanks, man.”
Cory nodded and walked back to his spot against the wall.
He picked up his rifle once more, continuing his methodical work.
Once they found their mark, they’d go to the storage unit he’d rented a couple months ago and collect the rest of their arsenal.
The RPG and other weaponry would show the US Military that they were serious—and force them to fight back with the same strength.
Smiling, Cory sat back and closed his eyes. Soon. All his hard work would come to fruition, and his father would be avenged. They just needed to step up their game and find the perfect place and bait. Then the fun would begin.