Bound to Forever - Book ll

Further Details

Simon's Point of View:

Finley had gotten tipped off about the brawl at the bar, and I wasn't surprised considering an officer did pull up on us after I had gotten my... point across.

But for Finley to be waiting on me at my own home, that took me off guard. When I walked in, he was pacing around the living room with that same worried look on his face, and I was angry at the fact that he kept Kiera from going to bed at her usual time.

They seemed to be having a casual conversation when I walked through the door, Kiera's face falling with worry as she recognized my bleeding lip and eyebrow, "It didn't go as planned."

"I can see that," Finley sighed. "What happened?"

"What does it look like?" I shook my head. "Love, where'd you put the first aid kit?"

"I-I'll go and get it. Sit down." She frowned, pointing towards the chair.

I did as I was told, sitting down before I felt a warm sensation on my shoulder. I had been bleeding, and I didn't recognize it until I took my jacket off, feeling the warm sensation of fresh blood seeping through my shirt.

"Simon, you're bleeding," Kiera panicked, and I was quick to assure her that it was only a cut and nothing fatal. "Take your shirt off. Let me see."

My poor, sweet angel, worried about my well-being and wanting to do everything in her power to make me feel better. Bloody hell, I really was the luckiest man in the world.

If it were just me, I would've just kept it clean and went on about my day, but I knew better. Eventually, I would've seen a medic if it got worse, but now that I have Kiera, I know it's in my best interest to not let anything slip by her when it comes to any injuries.

"Oh, my God! Simon!" She gasped.

"What?"

"Do you not realize how bad this is?"

"No... I can't see it."

She sighed as she put on a pair of latex gloves, gesturing for me to turn around and sit on the chair backwards before she sat the first-aid kit on the side table nearby, quickly dabbing a sterile fiber to clean around it, "This is deep, Simon. You're going to need stitches—"

"No, I don't. It's not a big deal."

"Simon Riley!" Now I'm in trouble, she used my full name.

"Just use glue or something, love. It'll be alright."

"No, you sit there and take what I'm about to give you. You're not seeing what I'm seeing, and you need stitches. Hey, Finley?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Can you go in the kitchen and grab that bottle of bourbon on the counter as well as a towel for him to bite on?—"

"Kiera, it does not need stitches. I love you, but I don't trust you with a needle anywhere near my skin."

"Don't be baby."

"I'm not being a baby—"

"Sure sounds like it. You can take anything the world throws at you, but freak out when your little wife says she can stitch you up?"

"I'm not freaking out. I just don't want my skin to tear open even more after you get your hands on it." I was just teasing her at this point, and I felt that she knew that by how much of the same treatment she was throwing back at me.

"You haven't seen tearing open until you push out a baby, and lest we not forget that I've birthed three of your children, and they all have the same big head that you do, so shut it and sit still."

I couldn't help the smirk that splayed across my face, "Yes, ma'am."

Truth be told, I knew I needed stitches, but I thought it was adorable how she freaked out over my well-being when it was just a minor issue. I wasn't afraid of her stitching me up, nor was I afraid of her coming near me with a needle. She could do anything, and I trusted her with my entire being, but I couldn't resist teasing her with every chance I got.

"Now I can understand how you're so disciplined." Finley commented.

"She keeps me in line, that's for sure—Ow!"

"Well, sit still and you won't feel any pain!"

"Anyway, I had a call with the Montana State Police on my way over here, and no suspects from the Bear Tooth Bar brawl were apprehended."

"Would've been nice to question them."

"Maybe next time, don't pull something like this by yourself, Riley. You're not ten feet tall and bulletproof."

"It's not my fault Jennings didn't buy it. I shoved a pole so far up my ass as I could; I still couldn't sound like you."

Kiera was the only one to see the sly smirk on my face after that comment, and I could faintly see her shake her head in my peripheral vision after I said it.

"So, were you expecting to be fighting a couple of goons in a parking lot for your weekend activities?"

"They weren't goons. Probably military or ex-military. South American would be my guess."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because if they weren't, I would've killed them in less than ten seconds."

"Okay, but what makes you think they were South American military?"

"They spoke Spanish, had Glock-17's, and the technique one guy used to head-butt me was from a martial art called Reisy, which is a technique hardly anyone used except branches of South American special forces. Believe me, I know,"

Just in case you didn't, I had been to Brazil several times for deployments and have had my fair share of brutal head-butts during fights. It's unfortunately why the bridge of my nose is crooked.

"Plus, if they weren't, I would've killed them within ten seconds."

"Why would South American military be involved in this?" Kiera asked, her tone concerned.

"Probably hired muscle, love. I don't think they're in charge of whatever operation is going on."

"Well, I might have an idea." Kiera chimed in, and by the base of her tone, she had done some work herself while I was gone.

"What've you got?"

"I made a call to an old friend of ours, and she helped me dig up some pretty interesting stuff about Steve."

"That is?..."

"Steve once worked with the Secret Service. Retired eight years ago, then a year goes by before he moves his business here. Kate told me that he used to work in the Homeland Security department."

"Why would that have to do with what's going on here?" Finley asked.

"Well, Homeland Security is a big umbrella. Everything from mail fraud, the president, counterfeiting, guns, human trafficking, all of that. She's going to dig a little deeper since she's in D.C. but can't get more information until the morning."

"Hockley did specialize in currency management, so we could possibly be dealing with a counterfeiting scheme."

"Maybe."

"But how would that lead to my mom being killed?"

I shook my head, "Only thing I can think of is that she found out something she wasn't meant to, and maybe they knew she would tell us, and they didn't want that to happen."

"Yeah, there's no way she could've been involved in this." She sighed.

"Any word on Jennings?" Finley asked me.

"No. By now, I'm sure he's heard things have gone south at the bar. And since his bosses feed screw-ups their own testicles, my guess is that he's gotten out of Dodge for a while."

"Good logic. The County Clerk's office won't be open until nine tomorrow morning. I'll get his address from there and search his house myself. In the meantime, I think you've earned a few extra hours to sleep in tomorrow."

"Best news I've heard all day."