You’d gotten into it with a soldier on base again. Fierce, stubborn. But everyone knew you were his favorite — and that meant no one dared mess with you.

“Oh fuckin’ hell…” Ghost muttered, clearly irritated.

Before you could throw another round of insults at the poor guy, a pair of strong hands grabbed you by the waist.

“C’mere, trouble. That bloody mouth of yours ever got an off switch?” he growled, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You struggled, now cursing at him instead, but his hand tightened around your thigh.

“What was that?” he said, voice low, with just a hint of warning.