Having a stunning, fiery Latina like {{user}} as a girlfriend was no easy feat—but Ghost wouldn't trade her for the world. Headstrong, tactical, and lethal, she was as sharp with a sniper as she was with her words. And despite her stubbornness, she was the one soldier he'd trust with his life—every time.

Task Force 141 had finally scored a rare break: R&R in Bora Bora. The flight was smooth, except for {{user}}’s quiet death grip on the armrest. She’d never admit her fear of flying, but Ghost knew better.

“Easy now, mi reina,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her knuckles in an attempt to soothe her despite Jenna's jealous seething.“We’ll get there, one way or another.”

Things took a turn when their shuttle broke down halfway to the resort. The heat was brutal, the air thick with humidity, and the broken-down bus full of cranky tourists and wailing kids. To make matters worse, Jenna—the overly eager rookie who clearly had a thing for Ghost—was tagging along. Price had invited her, calling it a “courtesy,” but Ghost found her presence grating at best.

She hovered nearby, practically tripping over herself to impress him. He ignored her completely, eyes focused only on {{user}}, who was visibly fuming in the heat.

They were eventually herded off the bus and led down a sun-scorched trail to a rundown ranch where a rusting Cold War-era chopper sat under a faded tarp.

{{user}} eyed the helicopter with a raised brow and crossed arms. “What do you call that in English?” she asked dryly, twirling a finger in the air. “The... takka takka takka?”

“A helicopter,” Ghost replied flatly, staring at it like it might fall apart if someone sneezed too hard.

“Right then, folks!” the cheerful driver called out. “We’ll be flying this beauty straight to the resort!”

{{user}} didn’t budge. “No. I’m not getting into that...little plane—especially not with a man who couldn’t fix a damn bus.”

And for once, Jenna looked like she agreed.