Daisy | Simon Riley

|44|

"Two days."

"That's all you want?" Price asked, leaning back in his chair.

"I'll be back in time for training," Simon nodded.

"Alright, Simon, I'll get the paperwork in. It's a good idea, keep her mind busy."

"Hopefully it'll ease her into the new place," he said before standing, and without another word, he picked up his duffle bag and left the office.

His hands were clenched as he made his way to the motor pool, where he picked up the keys to the car he'd rented before finding it among the sea.

When he got inside, he pulled his phone out and found Drew's contact.

She'd been transferred to a flat in the city for her leave, a nice place without stairs and stocked full of food. He'd had supper there before returning to base, and if everything went according to plan, he'd be back in time to make her coffee in the morning.

"Hey, Simon," her sleep-thick voice answered.

It made the corner of his lip curl up slightly, "Were you sleepin', sweet girl?"

"Fell asleep after dinner... can't keep awake like normal."

"That's good, you need it," he hummed. "I'm just calling because I've been assigned a mission. I shouldn't be long but might be gone a couple days."

"What's it for?" she asked, voice tinged with worry.

"Just some recon. Going to watch some drug traffickers."

"Be safe, yah? And I'll see you soon."

"I'm always safe. I'll see you soon. I love you."

"Love you too," she mumbled quietly.

"Go back to sleep," he chuckled.

"Yes, sir," she agreed, a smile evident in her voice. "Bye, Simon."

"Bye, Drew."

He ended the call without an ounce of guilt before pulling out the burner he'd nabbed that morning. He clicked the only number in the phone and typed out a message.

I'll be at the rendezvous in two hours.

He didn't wait for a reply and instead peeled out of the car park.

⁂

Simon wasn't someone who hid his anger. Quite the opposite, he thrived off the fear that his barked threats mustered, let it fuel him.

But there were times when his anger was quiet; it simmered, vicious below the surface, and in those moments it was clear that he was not a good man.

He fought for the good side, but he was not good.

A good man wouldn't consider the things he did as he walked into the dank room, seeing the lean, well-groomed man in the chair. Simon imagined everything he could possibly do to make him regret his life choices, but it still didn't seem enough.

He wondered if there was a way to debase him the way he did Drew, make him feel sick, make him wish to tear his skin off. But even if there was, he probably didn't have enough time. Or restraint.

Dante was already beaten—nothing bad, but the injuries that would come with a struggle. Simon could tell because he'd been stripped of his clothes in the chance that he had some type of tracker hidden the way Soap and Drew did.