#simonrileycod

Cody, Wyoming

To say that Ghost wasn't nervous was an understatement. His stomach was turning knots during the whole flight, looking down at his lap as the plane landed. Kiera sat close by, but not too close as she wanted to give him his space - she knew he was overwhelmed. 

"Alright, we're here," She smiled at him. "You nervous?" 

"No." 

She cocked her head, knowing he was lying - but she didn't acknowledge it. She noticed how nervous he was by his constant gaze on his lap, his tense shoulders, and his shaky breathing. She began to wonder why he felt this way, but she tried to understand him. He had no home to go to, and no family... his comrades were his family. She then began to wonder if she should have invited Soap herself, knowing that he would at least relax a bit with someone he knew better than her alongside him.

He followed her to the parking garage, the cold Wyoming air piercing the exposed skin around his eyes reacting to the cold air. He still refused to remove his mask, afraid for her to see him as well as be vulnerable. He watched her fumble in her duffel bag, removing a set of keys from the side pocket before pressing the 'unlock' button, revealing a truck that he didn't expect her to be driving - a black fourth gen RAM 3500. Damn.

"We can put everything in the backseat. I'm so ready to go home." 

"I say you are." He replied, going to the passenger side to toss his duffel back into the backseat before climbing up into the passenger seat. The truck smelled of leather and coconut from the bottle of hand lotion in the cupholder. It was an odd mixture, but it was also comforting. 

"Alright, baby, please start." She said to herself, putting the key into the ignition. He watched her turn the key to the right, the diesel working hard to start in the cold weather, hoping that it did. 

After another try, it fired up. 

He tried to hide the smirk on his face under the mask as he looked out the window, watching a small cloud of black smoke coming from the tailpipe. He always loved diesel vehicles, loving the sound of them, although it was unfortunate that trucks like hers weren't as popular in England. Rev it up...

She removed the iPhone that she had kept in the console, plugged in the charger, and waited for it to charge to its desired percentage before turning it on, using the opportunity for the truck to warm up as well. "Alright, let's drown out this silence with some music." She giggled, looking at the notifications from her phone - most of them from her best friend, some being a group chat, and a text every day from her mother: "I love you, sweetheart. Please come home safe! We're so proud of you!" - This was a text her mother sent her every day, even though her mother knew Kiera wouldn't see the text messages until she got her phone back. 

Ghost watched her smile down at her phone, seeing the loving messages as plain as day, wishing he could receive the same thoughtful gestures. He noticed she didn't text her mother back, letting her know she was coming home. Why? 

"I'm going to surprise them. We got back just in time for Thanksgiving with about a week to spare," She said, taking notice that he was looking at her phone in her hands. "We have about an hour's drive from here. Feel free to get some rest." She informed him, opening her music app and playing music through the radio.

"I don't sleep in vehicles." He replied, looking at the screen on the radio to see what song was playing. He wouldn't admit it, but he liked her taste in music and was eager to listen to her playlist. 

The song was It Goes On by Sir Rosevelt and Zac Brown. The tune reminded him of his deployment and he began to wonder if she played it on purpose. 

During the drive, he kept his gaze locked on the landscape, absolutely mesmerized as the only mountains he had seen were ones overseas. Hell, even in England where he was from, he never saw mountains, only buildings. He had no reason to go to the northern country to experience it, although he hoped he could take her to his homeland one day, it was one day at a time at this point. 

The cabin soon smelled like an apple followed by a vague cloud of smoke - she had been puffing on her vape pen that she kept in the breast pocket of her shirt. He didn't like watching her smoke, but he had no reason to express his opinion on it. Hell, drinking was bad, too, but he had plans on downing a few glasses of whiskey. 

Rollin' in Your Grave by Daniel Murphy played on the radio, the rough tune catching his attention before hearing Kiera hum "I got a trigger, don't pull it, get ready to die; I got the right amount of bullets and I'm ready to die" as she exhaled another puff of smoke. 

He then realized that she didn't give a shit who was watching her - she was her own person with a personality. 

A personality that he was growing to admire. 

He was very vague with a morbid sense of humor masking his childhood trauma as she too was vague in pieces and carried the same morbid sense of humor with a wild personality and easy-going attitude, but he could tell she was like this to hide a deep trauma that was concealed by her own heart. "You want me to stop and get something to eat? I'm starving." She grumbled. 

"I can tell. You've been sucking on that vape like it's a pacifier," He chuckled. "It smells appetizing." 

"Hey, it's my lifeline right now. I've been dying to hit it on that last mission," She raised a brow, glancing over at him before taking another inhale. "Still didn't answer my question." 

"I don't care, love. I'm not really hungry." 

She couldn't help but smile at his nickname, knowing most British men said this to women, knowing it wasn't meant to be a label, but it was still nice. "Well, don't be surprised when I get twenty chicken nuggets and a large set of fries from McDonald's and eat every bit of it. I'm fucking hungry. Those MREs were getting old." 

"I won't look when you're stuffing your face with chicken nuggets."

"I don't give a damn if you look or not," She chuckled. "Just wait until Thanksgiving. You'll wonder where it all goes." 

It'll all go to your ass, Ghost thought. And I won't be complaining. I like what I see. Fucking hell, Simon, stop sexualizing her. 

"If you say so." 

"I'll have to go to the store after a while - I don't have any food at my house." 

Simon nodded, leaning back in his seat to take the tension off of his lower back. He couldn't lie, he was very sore and desperate for sleep, but he couldn't take advantage of sleeping in a moving vehicle in fear of an ambush, but he wasn't going to let her know that. 

The silence between them fell again as Simon listened to the words of a Zach Bryan song. "So open the gates I'm here to prove, I'm better than my father was and where he came from, too." 

Fuckin' relatable, he thought. 

He ended up dozing off, the leather seat of the truck cradling him as she drove. She took notice of this and turned down the radio a few notches to let him rest, soon pulling onto the gravel driveway that led to her home. It was a running ranch with the main lodge where her parents stayed, a bunkhouse for the half-dozen wranglers that helped maintain the ranch, and a separate house further down the driveway where she lived. Stopping at the gate, she used the remote hanging on her sun visor to open it before driving through. Simon awoke at the sudden stop, his thoughts taking him back to Mexico. His hand rested on the handle of the door, preparing himself to jump out and proceed to combat before the realization of being in Kiera's vehicle stopped him from doing so. "Relax, Simon." She said in a comforting tone. 

She drove slowly along the driveway, Simon looking out the window at two wranglers on horseback, each equipped with a rope and a rifle in the scabbard on their saddles. "It's normal here," She spoke up. "We're close to the mountains. Never know when a wolf or a bear will surprise you." 

"Oh," Simon sighed. "So I guess the Colonel was right." 

"Right about what?" 

"He said you were a true cowgirl." 

She blushed, "I guess you can say that, but cowboys and cowgirls never have to introduce themselves as one. It's one hell of a life running a ranch. You'll see." She then stopped next to one of the wranglers on horseback, recognizing him as her younger cousin. 

"Well, well, well!" He shouted, stopping his horse. "Go on leave for three months and come back with a husband!" He poked. 

"Shut the fuck up," She scoffed, hiding her blush from Simon. "Don't tell mom and dad I'm back. I was gonna surprise them." 

"They're out in town anyway getting lunch," He waved her off. "They'll be back for dinner. Your daddy's got to pick up a load of calves. They took the trailer with him." 

Simon watched Kiera roll her eyes playfully at the thought before looking over at Simon, "My dad is damn sixty years old and he doesn't stay still. Always doing shit he doesn't need to be doing when he's got young men around here to do all the hard work for him." 

He chuckled at her words mixing with her accent, "I see where you get it from." 

"Frankie, this is Simon," She introduced. "He's our guest." 

"Guest as in guest, or boyfriend?" He poked. 

She glared at Frankie, "A guest I'm about to give permission to hurt you if you don't shut the fuck up." 

"Copy that, Officer," He snickered, readjusting himself in the saddle, mocking his cousin playfully. "I'll see you at dinner. Gonna go push some cattle to the front pasture for the winter." 

"That should've been done already." 

"Shit, you ain't been back for an hour and already runnin' this place. This ain't that much of a tight ship, cousin. Simmer down." He played.

Simon didn't like how her cousin was talking to her, mainly because he wasn't used to watching relatives bicker in play. He had hoped, for Frankie's sake, that he was joking. Otherwise, he'd be getting a death glare from Simon every time he laid eyes on him. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you around." 

"When you get a minute, you need to exercise that blonde horse of yours. The fucker has been batshit crazy since you left." 

"Maybe because nobody else besides me is supposed to be ridin' him." She retorted, rolling up her window before accelerating the truck forward, curving around a bend and passing the main lodge. Simon's eyes were glued to it - it was a modern log cabin with exquisite taste and class that was at least two stories. 

"Why isn't nobody else supposed to ride your horse?" Simon asked with curiosity. 

"It's a rule around here. Not just for me, but for everyone. You don't ride another cowboy's horse. We have horses that are a free-for-all, but a wrangler's main horse or one of the family's, it's a big no-no. Our horses are our partners. You bond with them to work together. If you put another person on them with different buttons, you can get yourself in a bind." She explained. 

"Never thought of it that way." 

"It's no different than military dogs," She shrugged. "You get used to a dog that's your partner in the field and expect them to be the same with another handler? No, they change completely because the energy is different. Same concept." She said, slowing the truck down to a stop outside her house. It too was one of class. It was a log cabin as well, but only one story. A pair of elk antlers hung above the front door and decorative lights lined the walkway. But what really caught his eye was the view of the snowcapped mountains from the back of the house. 

The interior smelled of leather and preserved wood. It was comforting, to say the least. And warm. God, he had been itching to get somewhere warm since the last mission on the ship, swearing he could still feel the water in his boots. He watched as she turned on the lights, seeing how well-lit the interior was. Everything was uniform and had a place. 

"I'll show you to your room." She said, watching him nod before following her. 

He was expecting a small room that was once used as storage. Something small and simple. No - this room looked like a master bedroom. A queen-sized bed, two side tables with lamps, a desk, a wardrobe, a television mounted on the wall, a longhorn cowhide separating his feet from the floor, and a joined bathroom. The room also smelled like warm apple cider, courtesy of the plug-in warmer. 

"Feel free to make yourself at home," She smiled. "I'm sure you're eager to get in bed." 

"I am," He nodded, setting his duffel bag aside. "Thank you, Officer, really. I-"

"It's Kiera, Simon," She corrected, catching eye contact with him. "We're off duty. We leave that behind us here. It's Kiera. When I'm home, I don't want to even think about my next job. I enjoy what I have before I have to leave it behind again. I suggest you do the same." 

She didn't have harsh intent with her words, but they struck him as one to have a point. He could see in her eyes that her job took a toll on her, which was something they both had in common, just she knew how to release herself from it whereas he didn't. 

Eleven Days Later

Kiera was the last to be released from the hospital while Price, Gaz and Soap enjoyed much-needed rest as well as tending to their wounds in the confines and comfort of the local hotel. Simon wheeled her to the lobby in a wheelchair after he had taken his belongings as well as hers to Laswell's car. She had been cleared to go home. 

After being wheeled out of the lobby, she toyed with the fleece blanket Simon had bought her from the local store that would keep her warm from the Chicago air. During her recovery, it was discovered that she had contracted a mild case of pneumonia due to breathing in the cold air during the traumatic event. Due to this, she had been directed to receive oxygen during her flight home. 

Price and the rest of his team were cleared to go home as well, waiting to deploy home after receiving good news of Kiera's departure. Simon wheeled her to the passenger seat of the car, it being the most comfortable seat in the car as Laswell would be driving them to the airport. She clung to his shoulder as he eased her down into the seat, setting the oxygen tank between her knees as it continued to distribute oxygen into her nose. He reached over her, securing her to the seat, "Is that comfortable?" He whispered to her. 

She nodded, "As much as I'll ever be." 

"Good." 

He shut the door, leaving her inside for warmth as he turned to face Price who held a genuine grin on his bearded face. Simon furrowed his brows as he looked down at his hand, a slip of paper between his fingers. 

It was then that Simon realized that Price handed him a plane ticket to Cody, Wyoming. "Here, son." 

Simon shook his head, knowing he was going to go with her anyway, but the fact that Price had taken the time out of his healing process to buy a plane ticket for him was enough to show that the Captain had compassion for the Lieutenant. "You didn't have to, Ca-"

"I wanted to, Simon," He assured him, patting his shoulder. 

Simon nodded, letting the Captain pull him in for a comforting side hug. "Let's get you on your way home." 

Price knew - hell, Soap did as well as Laswell. They all knew as it was rather obvious that Simon was in love. Neither one saw it coming, never seeing him with a woman before, but it was bittersweet to see how compassionate he let himself get when it came to caring for her. 

From comrades to lovers, Soap sighed to himself as he was truly happy for him. 

*

The flight home was exhausting - having a layover in Missouri was enough to drive both her and Simon into a raging fit of a fight for sleep, but Simon held through, wheeling her through the terminal as both duffel bags were secure to his torso, ensuring her comfort before his own. "You're going to be mad, love." He said to her, watching her exhausted eyes look at him. He knew she was tired but was in dire need of a sarcastic comment to shoot back at him. He could feel it. 

Hell, he wanted to poke at her, too - loving her one-liners and sarcastic comments that left a genuine rumble in his chest. 

"Why?" She asked. 

"Your keys aren't in your bag." He said, referring to her truck keys. 

He did his best to hide the smirk toying on his lips as he watched her brow arch and bottom lip pucker slightly, "Guess you've got a long push ahead, huh?" 

"I guess so," He replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Better hold that blanket close to you." 

"Mhm, I know you're screwin' with me. I'm not easy to fool." She retorted, watching how he failed horribly in keeping his smile at bay. 

"We'll see about that." He replied, his voice sounding with serious tone. She began to wonder if he truly was being serious or dragging it out for as long as he could. 

She huffed, rolling her eyes playfully as he chuckled to himself, reaching to his right to grasp her left hand as he had wheeled her to the innermost part of the lobby, sitting between her and the entrance. She watched as he toyed with her fingers like he always did, the familiar warmth of the pad of his thumb rubbing the top of her ring finger. 

As time went on, he continued to toy with her fingers, looking down at the cracks, cuts, and bruises on her hand from both the explosion and the damage Graves had done. He wondered how a hand as small as hers could do as much damage as he had seen during their time on the battlefield, but she wondered the same about him - how his hands could kill a man with one grasp, yet grasp her skin as if she were made of glass. "Do you want to take your medicine now or when you get on the plane?" He asked her.

"Probably when we land, honestly. It's been making me feel like shit and I don't want to throw up everywhere." 

"It's because you've barely eaten, sweetheart." Simon reminded. 

"I'm just... not hungry." She frowned. 

"We'll fix that."

*

Cody, Wyoming

The western air was brutal and cold, Simon rushed as fast as he could to get her to the parking garage where her vehicle that she had left before they took the flight back to the battlefield. Fumbling through his pocket from his pre-landing plan, he looked at the fob for the 'unlock' button, watching the running lights of the Ram truck light up in a glow as he stopped at the passenger side door, opening it for her and carefully hoisting her in. He secured the oxygen tank between her knees and ensured she was buckled. "Can you pull that lever, babe?" She grumbled as it was clear she was getting restless, pointing down to the adjustment lever that reclined her seat back. 

Simon stopped briefly at the sound of the pet name she had called him before doing her request, pulling the lever up as he used his other arm to let her cling to him as her back was sore from the grafts. "Thank you." She mumbled, bringing the blanket closer to her chest. 

"Say that again." He asked, referring to the pet name. 

"Thank you?..." She replied, a smirk toying at her lips, knowing what he was referring to.

But it was her turn to poke at him.

"No, what you said before." 

"Oh!" She nodded. "Can you pull that lever?" She giggled while a laugh prodded in her throat at his reaction. Okay, Kiera, stop teasing him, he looks offended, she thought. "Babe." 

She watched him grin, unaware that the name coming from her throat sounded as sweet as honey - the sound of her voice leaving him to want it more. He leaned over her, pressing a kiss to her caste lips, not giving an absolute fuck that her lips were dry in moisture and her throat dry. He reminded himself that she was real and only for him, unbeknownst to her that the pet name gave him a rush of adrenaline having never been called that before. 

And he liked it.

He shut the door before folding the wheelchair and putting it in the backseat, the sharp wind cutting through the parking garage and rustling his jacket. "Bloody fucking hell," He grumbled, his complaint being heard from inside the cab as well as he slung himself into the driver's seat, his knees colliding with the dashboard and his thighs pressed against the bottom of the steering wheel. "Christ, woman, short stack." He teased. 

"How else do you expect me to drive this thing?" She scoffed. "By standing on the fucking seat?" 

"Might as well!" He poked back, looking at the fob as he wondered how the fuck to start the diesel, but he wasn't about to ask her. "Surprised this thing isn't beat to rubble - not being able to see over the steering wheel." 

"At least I can start it." She poked, taking note of his hesitation. 

"Love, I can drive a tank if I wanted to-"

"-But not a truck." She giggled. 

He sighed, shaking his head, "Should've invited Soap along to join in on the harassment." 

"Hey, you started it, babe," She smirked. "Besides, it would be fun if he was along." 

"Oh, I'm sure." 

She scoffed playfully, pointing to the ignition, "It ain't no different than a regular car, just put the key in and turn it once to let the glow plugs warm up before you start it." She explained. 

He did just that, waiting for her instruction. "Now, the light went off, go ahead and start it." 

The diesel fought for a few moments, Simon being paranoid that he broke it, but kept listening to her as he trusted her judgment...and the fact that it was her vehicle. It rumbled beneath him, his excitement sitting in his stomach as he tried to contain himself. He was just like a kid in a candy store. Rev it... 

He couldn't help it, putting his foot on the throttle to just hear the mighty whistle, once being enough as he didn't want to overstay his permission on driving her truck, knowing she'd take over in a heartbeat regardless of her status. "That out of your system now?" She chuckled. 

He sighed, "Yeah." 

"Can't help it, can you? I don't blame you." 

He breathed a laugh, putting the truck in reverse and cautiously - slowly, even - made his way out of the parking garage that lead onto the main road, stopping at the stop sign and mentally coaching himself and reminding himself on how to drive when not escaping from enemies. "This isn't England, right lane is the right side." She poked. 

"How stupid do you think I am?" He replied. 

"You want me to be honest?" She arched a brow, poking at him. 

He huffed, "Give me that," He said, reaching over the console for her hand. Carefully, of course. "You have to remind me how to get home, love." 

"You'll be on this road for a hot minute." She replied, embracing the warmth of his hand wrapped around her cold fingers, looking over and watching him bring her hand to his lips, keeping them there and rubbing the knuckles closest to the pads of his fingers as well as against his chin, leaning his elbow on the console as he drove. He couldn't get enough of it. 

"Just tell me when to turn." 

"I might." 

He glared at her playfully, "You need to get rest. We don't need to be roaming around." 

"What I need, is my va-"

"I'll throw it out the window." He arched his brow at her. 

She scoffed. 

"I'm serious, that's the last fuckin' thing you need." 

"I've got a stash." 

"Oh, I'll find it." 

She giggled, thoroughly enjoying that she was still fortunate to be going home, especially with him. 

"Have you checked your phone?" 

"No, can you reach in the console and get it for me?" 

He nodded, letting go of her hand briefly to open the center console, fumbling around inside through the AQHA membership card as well as spare change along with pens...and a syringe? 

"It's for cattle, Simon. I'm not shooting up." She giggled, taking notice of his discovery. 

"I was about to say," He chuckled, handing her the iPhone before reaching down to hand her the end of the charger that came from the center console as well. "Don't strain yourself, love." 

"I'm not." She replied, turning on the phone and seeing the usual blast of notifications as she typed her address into the GPS, knowing that Simon would miss the directions as she was sure she'd fall asleep eventually during the drive. She scrolled through her phone to distract her from the aching pain in her back and face, opening her music app to kill the silence that would fall between them, randomly shuffling to Sturgill Simpson's Life Ain't Fair as she deemed it as "fitting." 

"You have a song for everything, huh?" 

The following morning, Simon refused to let Kiera up early as he viewed five a.m. to be too early for anyone to get up to work, in his opinion. "Babe, I need to get up." She sighed, showing no sign of getting up herself, pressing her head against his chest as she turned over, Simon embracing her gesture and rubbing her bare arm.

"It's Saturday, love," He sighed. "You've been up early all week. You need rest."

"I need to find out who killed our cattle."

"And you will, but you can't keep searching unless you don't rest first."

She sighed against his chest, rolling her eyes as she did as she was told, Simon's face holding a smirk with victory as he got up when she did.

Every day.

And he didn't want to get up early on a Saturday unless he was on duty.

A few hours later, Simon awoke to peppered kisses against his bare chest. His favorite way to wake up if he were to be honest. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand, the other gripping her arm as a way to tell her he was awake. "We overslept." She whispered, a giggle following suit.

"Worth it." He mumbled, moving his body to where he was between her legs, his warm skin colliding with her cold stomach, goosebumps erecting on his arms. He nestled his head under her breasts, hearing her heartbeat increase as she giggled, his arms forcing themselves between her body and the bed seeking warmth.

Her fingers splayed through his dirty-blonde hair, her fingernails scratching his scalp comfortingly as they both enjoyed the position. He promised himself he wouldn't stay in the position long due to the worry of crushing her with his weight, but she kept insisting he stay where he was every time he tried to get up, both dozing back off once relaxed.

Kiera's eyes fluttered open to the sound of her phone ringing. Looking to her right, she noticed it was a familiar caller responding to her voicemail. She kept combing her fingers through Simon's hair, unaware that he had woken up the minute he heard her phone vibrating, his position concealing her view to his face. "Hello?" She sighed, putting the phone on speaker and setting it beside her.

"Kiera, I'm sorry I'm just now hearing your voicemail. Have a good Christmas?"

"Oh, yeah, aside from an entire pasture of cattle being killed, it's been good." She scoffed.

Laswell sighed over the other end of the phone, "I'm sorry. How can I help?"

"I need you to run a name through the FAA database."

"I'm in front of my computer now," Laswell replied. "Shoot."

"Look up Hershel Shepherd."

Simon's gaze peered up at her, his eyes connecting to hers as they could distinctly hear Laswell typing on her keyboard on the other end of the phone.

"Seems like he owns a plane," Laswell replied. "He's not a licensed pilot, though."

"He had someone else fly it." Kiera mumbled under her breath.

"Hm?"

"Nothing," She replied, sighing. "Where's it being kept at?"

"Looks like it's being held in a private facility just outside of Powell, Wyoming. I'm not seeing any recent flight logs."

"That's only about an hour from here," Kiera said, Simon noticing that her heart rate was increasing. "Are you saying this motherfucker had the balls to "relocate"?"

"It's hard to say. Many people with judicial power have locations all over the map for privately-owned equipment."

"Yeah? Well, this is too much of a coincidence," She raised a brow. "Who's the pilot on the flight logs?"

"Hold on," Laswell replied, intense typing muffling the silence through the phone. "Looks like the most recent flight was performed by a Malcolm Childress. Does that name ring a bell?"

Kiera sighed heavily, "It sure as shit does. How recent was the last flight?"

"I'm seeing a test flight and inspection done on December fourteenth. Nothing after that."

"How many logs is he on?"

"He's on all of them so far."

"Run his name through the FAA, too. Get me current address."

"Sure, give me a few minutes. I'll call you back and let you know."

"Text it to me. I'm going to get ready."

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything else."

Simon watched as Kiera hung up, a sharp glare in her eye - a glare he only recognized when she was on the battlefield.

She was on a warpath.

Kiera pat Simon's bare shoulder, assuming that he was still asleep when he looked up at her, his tired eyes begging her to stay in bed longer instead of conquering the brutal Wyoming weather, but he knew better than to beg her.

She yawned as she forced herself to sit up in the bed, the chilled air kissing her shoulders and causing her to shiver. Simon watched her dress, admiring her battle scars that littered her feminine skin.

She was incredible.

"Care to join me for breakfast?" He asked, coming up behind her to stare at her through the mirror, watching her study the insecurities he saw as beauty.

She nodded, "Always, babe,"

He kissed her neck at the nickname he grew to love as much as her. "Just wish you'd led me cook breakfast for once." She continued.

He shook his head against her neck, "Gotta get up early to cook me breakfast, love."

She scoffed, "I do! You just don't let me get up!"

"I know." He smirked, pressing another kiss to her neck, feeling her sigh.

"You up for a drive today?"

"If you want me to," He replied, looking at her through the mirror, seeing the worry on her face. "What about the guys?"

"Hell they can come too if they want," She snickered. "I shouldn't need another gun today."

"I'll always be by your side, love. Don't ever think I won't. I'll go get Soap and we'll come with you."

"Okay," She nodded, glancing at him through the mirror before turning to face him. "This is my life, babe. You sure you want to stick around for it?"

"Like I've said before, I don't care what life throws at me. As long as I'm with you."

"I can say the same, baby."

"Was hoping you'd say that." He chuckled, looking down at her to watch her lips get closer to his.

She hummed against his lips, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her fingers toying with the chain of his dog tags.

*

"You ready?" Simon asked Soap as he slipped on his coat.

"As ever." He nodded.

"Where's everybody else?"

"Down at the ranch. They're dying to help out and live the lifestyle," Soap replied. "Can't blame them. There's not anything like this where we're from."

"I know."

The pair walked from the house, meeting Kiera at the truck, seeing both Lawson and Frankie approaching her on horseback, each carrying a rifle in their scabbard. "How many?" She asked, walking up to them.

Lawson pulled a notepad from his vest pocket, "Two hundred and eighty." He sighed.

"Goddammit," She grumbled, moving a mound of gravel with her boot. "Go up to the lodge and tell dad. I'm making a trip to Powell."

"Okay. Those boys you brought over here are down at the barn helping us today. That boy of Alejandro's is dying to tag a calf."

She chuckled, "Well, let him learn. Run 'em through a chute and let him have at it."

Lawson nodded, "Yes ma'am."

"I'm taking Simon and Johnny with me today. If you see Price, just let him know."

"Sure. They have badges?"

"They don't need one. Just me."

"Then why are they going with you?" Frankie questioned, furrowing his brows.

"Insurance."

*

The drive to Powell was quiet, aside from the sound of Soap eating on his breakfast after he had begged Kiera to stop at the local McDonald's, claiming that their hash browns were "too good to pass up."

"What're we doing here?" Soap asked, oblivious to the point of the trip.

"Looking for someone."

His face held a confused look, "I-I thought we were looking for a plane?"

"Change of plans, Soap." Simon grumbled, looking to his right out the window, admiring the landscape along the road.

Simon watched as Kiera fumbled with her phone, looking at the caller ID before hitting 'accept.' "Yeah?"

"Okay, I have an address for Malcom Childress," Laswell said. "He has an office on Main Street in Powell."

"Figured he'd stay in the military." She scoffed.

"Well, there's something you should know about that."

"And what's that?"

"Graves used to be his superior. He was on Shadow Team with him for the last two tours performed."

"Fucking figures."

"He's a real estate broker in Powell. He got home after Thanksgiving. And Kiera," Laswell sighed. "He survived the raid of Alejandro's HQ."

"That's impossible. We swept the whole thing!"

"Unless he escaped. We don't know for sure, but I confirmed he was there. He was awarded with a Purple Heart recently."

"Shit," Kiera scoffed. "Guess they award the ones who don't need it, huh?"

"I guess so. Be considerate about this, Kiera." Laswell advised.

"Oh, I'm as considerate as the next person." She scoffed, ending her call with Laswell as her grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Simon watched her gaze on the road, her pupils dilating as her anger changed her complexion as she took the exit to Powell.

Once at the location, Kiera parked the truck on the side of the road, informing both Simon and Soap to stay in the vehicle as she approached the gate, a guard stopping her immediately. She removed her badge from behind the confines of her vest before the gate opened. Simon watched with his stark gaze, watching as she disappeared from his line of sight. His palm rested on the pistol that was wedged between the console and the seat.

His leg shook impatiently as twenty minutes passed by, the diesel idling under his weight before the door opened. "Everything okay?" He asked her.

"Looked at everything I could. Need to go into town and pay a visit."

"Where to?" Soap asked.

"That motherfucker's office." She replied, looking at him through the rear view mirror of the truck before putting it in gear.

Oh, shit, Simon huffed to himself, knowing what was to come next.

*

"You two can come with if you want." She said, parking the truck and removing her vest, tossing it into the backseat before they all exited the truck, both Simon and Soap walking closely behind her as she entered the office.

"Hello," The receptionist smiled at her, her brows furrowing as she recognized the anger on Kiera's face. "How can I help you?"

"Is Malcom Childress here?"

"Um, did you have an appointment?" She asked, looking at her computer.

Kiera looked at her before looking to her right, seeing the man in question dressed in a suit and tie, entering his glass-enclosed office as if he had no problem in the world.

But he was about to.

She glared at him, knowing he was unaware of her presence, "That's not what I asked."

Soap and Simon glanced at each other, following Kiera as she stormed towards Malcom's office, grabbing a bottle of fine wine from the side table that was offered for the representatives working overtime as well as dinners at the office. A guard standing point next to his office, grasped his pistol, removing it from its holster, Kiera beating him to the carnage by using the bottle and disarming him first by slamming the bottle into his armed wrist before bringing it to meet his jaw, causing him to fall to the floor before she stormed into Malcom's office, throwing the bottle at him without any hesitation.

He gasped, ducking down to the floor to avoid the shards of glass, yelling "what the fuck!" before recognizing who was in his office.

She walked around his desk, pointing her finger, "Why in the fuck are you here?"

"I have every right to be here!" He shouted.

"Awful weird coincidence you're here all of a sudden? What happened to staying in Texas? Got tired of laying pipe to your ole lady? Or did she catch you cheating with your military card?"

He stepped closer to her, narrowing his eyes, unaware that Simon had stepped closer after seeing Malcom try to intimidate her. Not on my watch.

"You don't know what you're talking about." He growled.

"If I didn't know what I was talking about, I wouldn't have said it," She hissed. "How much is Shepherd paying you, huh? How much did he pay you to kill our cattle?"

"I plead the fifth."

She pursed her lips, grasping Malcom by the collar and forcing him against the wall. He tried to fight back with his strength, easily overpowering her until Simon stepped in, asserting dominance immediately by keeping Malcom pinned against the wall. "You touch her and that's the last thing you'll ever do." He warned.

"I didn't kill your cows!" He shouted at her. "But I wish I did. I'd kill every head of livestock you had."

"But you flew the plane, huh?" She grumbled, watching his bodyguard stumble into the office. "A little late." She snarked at him, watching Malcom nod his head at him to stand down.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Malcom grumbled at her.

"Bullshit. If you didn't do it, I wouldn't be here, but yet Shepherd has you running his goddamn plane all over the area of our ranch, huh?"

"I haven't flown since the military."

"I'm not going to say this again," She warned, grabbing a shard of broken bottle and holding it to his neck. "Your name is all over the fucking flight logs. All recent flights are within a hundred mile radius of our ranch and I know you're not flying for shits and giggles."

"Then why are you here? Why are you doing this, huh? If you know whose plane it is then why aren't you going after him?"

"Because you're first on my list. I'm going for him after I take out the trash."

"Then you should walk out that door before you play the wrong game."

"Is that a threat, mate?" Simon hissed.

"Maybe."

"You know, Malcom, you know as well as I do that's a dance with the devil if you fuck with me." Kiera warned.

"Then let's dance if that's what you want," He grumbled, the vein in his temple tapping at the thin skin of his forehead. "Fucking coming in here thinking you own the place and threatening me for flying a fucking plane."

"By the time I'm done, I'll have the trash taken out and own this place. I'll have your PPL hanging above my fucking toilet."

"It'd look nice, wouldn't it?" He smirked. "So what if I can fly a plane?"

"It's not that you can fly a plane, it's where you've been flying it. Especially considering that it doesn't belong to you."

She nodded for Simon to let him go, watching Malcom hunch over to catch his breath. "Don't make me come back." She warned.

"What happens if you do?" He scoffed.

"If I do, you won't walk out."

Simon and Soap followed behind her, watching the guard glance over her with a sarcastic comment playing at his lips. "Nice move." He said, referring to her technique of disarming him.