New Life

Ace began with yoga and balance with Lily in the morning. He learned how to move his entire body when standing on just one foot. Then, he moved to weightlifting with a pulley system and hand weights. He still felt like a kitten; weak, and wanting to sleep all the time. He took hour-long naps twice a day, and stuck with going to bed early. He walked the dogs one at a time, twice a day. He took rides down to help Nantan, learning the plants and how to grow them hydroponically.

“You wanna grow hops? You can make beer. Or vodka from potatoes.”

“Not with twelve thousand teens here,” said Nantan. “Booze and teens don’t mix.”

“Word,” said Ace. “Don’t know when I can lift heavy cases of beer. I don’t want to damage myself by going in too soon, but not working is making me nuts.”

“Can you help your wife with the accounting?”

“Yes,” said Ace. “Then, I would die of boredom. I can only train the dogs so many hours a day. I’m studying Spanish, and that’s good. I’m a doer. What can I do?”

Nantan pointed to the barn next door. “Get yourself a buddy, one of the Wolfpack, to help, but you can do tasks. You can crash on my bed if you need a nap. Start with one of the apartments, and get a bed in there, and work your way down from there.”

“On it,” said Ace.

It didn’t take long for Ace to take over part of the punch list. He brought over his pulleys and weights, a duffel, and the dogs, and stayed at the big house until he got one of the apartments done. He moved in there. He’d done construction years ago, so he was seriously rusty, but he got it done.

Lily visited him, and explained that she got a lot more done with him at the ranch. He was a little hurt, until he realized he must have been underfoot. They also had sex on the visits, far more than they had been at home. He listened to podcasts and Spanish lessons while working, and the kids spoke the Spanish with him. He found that he could lift paint cans, boards, and even sinks.

The physical therapy sessions still sucked, but the therapist at the edge of the res was better than the other one. Still vicious, but he spent more time massaging Ace and teaching him how to move in order to heal.

Lily spent time with Katya and the babies. She wasn’t showing yet, but Ace and Lily’s twins were growing fine. She learned Russian lullabies, and how to deal with fussy, hungry babies. Lily brought home boxes of diapers and baby clothes, as the twins grew out of theirs.

“Three is enough, no?” asked Katya.

“How is Katya doing?” asked Lily, seeing Elena’s paint-by-numbers of a seascape on an easel.

“Elena has last surgery. She is so excited! She sings like an angel, and she is learning the keyboard. The little ones won’t sleep without her singing to them at night.”

Whenever Lily had a twinge —when her belly still hurt, she would think about a little girl going through surgery after surgery to repair the damage done by her warped father’s acid attack. She realized she was, in fact, lucky, despite all she had lost.

The grief was a wall of waves; a baseball bat hitting her in the head. She thought holding Katya’s babies would tear her apart, but it seemed to be healing her. The counseling sessions gave her a space to cry without the tears and exhaustion taking over her entire life. There were still days she didn’t get out of bed. Having Ace stay at the ranch was helpful; he would panic when she did that. She caught up on books she wanted to read, stupid TV shows she wanted to see, a hook rug she’d never completed. Or, she just laid there; resting, sleeping, waking, crying, then sleeping again.

She bought a little refrigerator and microwave and installed one under one nightstand, and the other under the other one, so she didn’t have to leave the room if she didn’t want to. She did her grief homework, and called when she didn’t want to come into the office.

She reclaimed good memories of her brother, helping him with his homework, the time they’d watched a sci-fi marathon and gotten sugar highs on soda and candy. And the times they’d gotten away from Dad for a while. She couldn’t bring her brother back. She realized she was really grieving a wasted life, one that he never got the chance to benefit from. Even with the changes he was making in his life. He could have married, or gotten a great job, or just lived out a quiet life somewhere, far from his Vegas temptations, but he never got the chance. She realized she wasn’t grieving her brother, but the man he never got to be.

She recovered slowly. She took long rides on her bike, out to Boulder City, to Red Rock, to Cedar City, and even Lake Havasu to paddle board alone. And, bit by bit, she reclaimed her soul.

Ivy found dancing harder and harder as her belly and ankles swelled. She could still sling booze, count money, and receive liquor orders, so she did. The bar backs took on more and more of the ice and other heavy lifting projects. The cooks kept a stream of snacks coming out to her. She started keeping energy bars in a box under the cash register.

She was tired easily, and took to sleeping later, despite having two active little girls in the house. She began to realize she’d have to cut her hours, something she was loathed to do with Ace still out. She realized she’d never asked him if he was coming back; she had just assumed. She called when she woke up the next day, and asked him, point blank.

“Haven’t thought about it,” he said, over the sound of hammering in the background. “I never planned on tending bar forever. Or construction, or working on bikes. I just worked my ass off trying to survive. I love the bar, enjoy the music, like sleeping in the day and working at night. Found out I still like construction, but there’s a fuckload of competition out there. I don’t want to be just another guy with a hammer. Enjoy working with the dogs, but you can only train them a bit a day. It’s a lot of work, but not all at once, you know?”

Ivy drank her early-morning cola. “Dude,” she said, “I don’t want to damage you. We’ve all been damaged enough. I don’t want you coming back to the bar to get hurt again.”

He thought about it. “If I act like a wimp and get the bar backs to do all the heavy lifting, I can do it a few hours a night to start, once my physical therapist gives the okay. I was going stir crazy here, until I started on the third barn, but we’ll finish pretty soon.”

“How many fucking barns does Henry need?”

“This one is for Nantan’s business, and to keep some of the teens he’s training for good. There are three apartments over the growing house, and two in the first, expanded barn, and now four more. Nantan and Jeffrey live over the barn.”

“Um, sorry I asked. So, you do want to come back?”

“Hell, yeah,” said Ace. “It’s like working with family, you know? Most of the customers are bikers. Love hearing the stories of the road. I’ll talk to the physical therapist, and let you know.”

“No hurry,” said Ivy. “Just so you know, I’m knocked up, and I’ll have to take off for six weeks or two months. Or until I go crazy.”

Ace laughed. “We’re knocked up too, remember? Twins! So, I’ll spell you, and you spell me.”

“Remind me again why we all fucking decided to get pregnant at the same time? Even Killa and Ghost got into it!”

“What?” asked Ace. “Why wasn’t I informed?”

“Surrogates,” said Ivy. “They’re paying for a condo and helping lesbian couples get help.”

“Don’t lesbian couples use their gay guy friends?”

“Not if their uteruses don’t work,” said Ivy.

“Too much information,” said Ace.

Ivy laughed. “On that note, I think I’ll gestate somewhere else.”

“Shut up,” said Ace, and hung up on her laughter in his ear.

Ivy helped the girls walk Daisy, and she also helped them get ready for school.

“We’re gonna work on hydroponics,” said Grace.

“We are expanding our garden,” said Hu. “We are labeling all of the plants in English, Spanish, Ute, and Mandarin.”

“Excellent,” said Ivy.

“Grandpa Jake now teaches Ute,” said Hu.

“Who is Grandpa Jake?” asked Ivy.

“He was in a nursing home, but it was a bad place. He still has holes in his arms where they stuck him,” said Grace. “He moves real slow and his voice is kinda quiet, and he has bandages on his arms and legs. We have to be sure he gets enough water.”

Ivy realized the girls were referring to a refugee from the “nursing home bust,” as Lily and Bella called it. Ivy suspected that there were Paiutes in the bust, and the idea of anyone harming an older tribe member would be anathema to them. Henry would most certainly be interested in rescuing anyone they could, provided they could care for them at the farm.

“Bet his Ute is amazing, and that he has great stories,” said Ivy.

“Coyote is sneaky,” said Grace.

Ivy remembered hearing several such stories from Henry; Coyote was the trickster in Native American stories. Coyote was sneaky, but usually did the right thing in the end.

Ivy laughed. “Yes, he is,” she said.

They made it back to the house, and Callie was ready with the backpacks with their tablets, pencil cases, and folders. Callie kept each child on a system that kept each student on track with assignments; most of it was online, but there was a checklist each kid had to do by the end of the day. The girls hopped in the car while Ivy opened the door and let Daisy back in.

Callie kissed Ivy goodbye. “Good luck at work,” she said. She put her hand on Ivy’s stomach. “Bye, little swimmer,” she said.

Ivy patted Callie’s stomach. “Bye, baby,” she said. “We need better names than, “little swimmers.”

Callie smiled. “Ultrasound tomorrow. Then we’ll know what to name whom.”

“Tomorrow,” said Ivy, kissing her again. She waved goodbye, then went back in the house to drop off the leash. She made sure Daisy had food and water, and then she went to the bar.

Ace was there. Ivy grabbed her chest and staggered in mock shock. “You finally showing your face?” asked Ivy, locking up her helmet in the seat of her Harley.

“Absolutely,” said Ace, “I can serve drinks and sign for stuff. I can’t lift cases of bottles, but I can lift cases of cans.”

“I can still lift the bottles,” said Ivy, “but my stomach is turning into a shelf. So, eventually, I won’t be able to see the cases to lift them.”

Ace laughed, put in the code, and unlocked the door for Ivy. “I’m still kinda weak, so I may need long breaks, maybe even take a nap in the office or go home early.”

“Whatever,” said Ivy. A beer truck drove up. “Sign for that, and ask the driver to wheel it to the cooler,” ordered Ivy. “I can see them well enough to fill up the cooler.”

Ace laughed again. “I’ll get the bottom ones if you can’t see them.”

They took turns unloading, and scooping ice into the bar carts. They filled them up, and wheeled them to the bars. Bella came in, stole her cart, and glared at both of them.

“You can wait ten minutes until I show up,” she said. “I can’t handle it if either one of you end up on the floor for being stupid.”

Ivy followed Bella to her bar, on the opposite side of the dance area. “Who is Grandpa Jake?” asked Ivy.

Bella smiled, and started moving ice from the cart to the freezer at her station. “He’s staying in the big house with Carl, both Paiutes that don’t have Alzheimer's or need lots of medical care. We’re trying to get Maia and Vu. They aren’t Paiute, but they don’t have anyone to help them. Both of them needed more medical help, but are probably getting sprung next week.”

“Let me know if we can help.”

Bella smiled. “Hu and Grace and the other kids are helping just fine. We’re supposed to pick up Carl’s new hearing aid tomorrow, so he’ll be teaching Paiute, too. His hands are still strong, and he’s good at needlework. He’s going to show the students beadwork.” She laughed. “Both Jake and Carl call it ‘earning their keep.’ She began emptying the cart of the beer. “Now, get away from me. I’m busy.”

Ivy laughed. She went to help Ace, but the arrival of the bar backs sent her into her office to find out if Cougar left any paperwork undone. Everything was done, so she had a small salad, mozzarella sticks, and a tea. She was sad that it wasn’t a cola, but she had to get her caffeine from green tea.

Ivy was pissed. The music was hot, making her want to dance on the plinths, but she was getting too wide to dance. She was, in fact, beginning to waddle. She sang instead, belting out Lita Ford’s Kiss Me Deadly. Bella came up and sang Lita Ford’s and Ozzy Osborne’s Close My Eyes, with her. Then, the band swung into AC/DC, doing Back in Black and Thunderstruck.

Ivy slung the booze. Ace took an hour break, wolfing down some food and then taking a nap on the couch in her office.

She had a shouted conversation with the Valkyries who came in. “Great Ace is back,” said Skuld. “He seems kinda slow, though.”

“Still recovering,” said Ivy.

“Got names for your passenger?” asked Rota.

“Passenger?” Ivy looked down after passing a beer to a patron and taking the money. “Oh, the baby. No. We have an ultrasound tomorrow.”

“Good,” said Rota. “If you need anything from the Valkyries, just ask.”

“You have done a ton for us Nighthawks. We say the same thing.”

“Hear anything about that bitch?” asked Rota, referring to the assassin La Diabla.

“She’s in a Supermax and has a new lawyer after the old one joined her in jail. There’s no money left to pay anyone; the forensic accountants found it all and froze the accounts, so hers is a court-appointed one.” Ivy filled up a tray of beer, and then pulled a pitcher of beer from the tap.

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person,” said Skuld. Ivy poured them each a whiskey shot, and said, “On the house.” Skuld and Rota drank and turned their glasses upside-down.

Wraith came in, laughing, Saber in tow. “Give it to me straight,” said Wraith. Ivy finished filling up a tray, and poured them two whiskey shots.

Wraith tried to pay her, and Ivy said, “On the house.” They took them, clinked glasses, drank, and turned the glasses upside-down.

Wraith, Skuld, and Rota did a complicated sister wrist-clasping thing while Ivy served up drinks. One of the dancers went on break, and they went up to the plinths to dance together, leaving Saber at the bar.

Ivy poured him a beer. “You okay?” she asked.

“I’m trying to get assigned here permanently.”

“Should be easy, you keep busting cartel people,” she said.

“Thanks for that, by the way. I am so sorry for the damage, but Wraith and I have definitely benefited from nailing their asses to the wall. With prejudice.”

“If we find anything else nefarious, we’ll let you know,” said Ivy, filling up another tray.

“Wraith is majorly pissed about the nursing home thing,” said Saber, passing a beer back to the man behind him.

“Thanks, man,” he said, passing forward a bill. Saber passed it to Ivy.

“No problem,” he said.

“What is she pissed about?” asked Ivy. “That she got caught up in it, or that she missed out on the bust?”

Saber made a wrong-answer buzzer noise. “She is furious that this stuff happened in the first place. I hear Henry and the clan are taking four of the former residents.”

“Yeah,” said Ivy. “I’ll ask Callie to swing by and ask if they need anything. She’s amazing with getting rooms great.” She sold four more long-necked beers.

“The whole res is buzzing,” said Nina, the bar back, selling five beers, three in one hand and two in the other. “Henry wishes he could build a hospital.”

“Why not?” asked Ivy. “Callie says you guys just moved another barn there. How many fucking barns do you need?”

“A fucking barn sounds kind of fun,” said Saber. Ivy threw a bar towel at him. He threw it back. Nina grabbed the towel and threw it at him again. He laughed.

“Build an apartment behind the big house,” said Ivy. “Make apartments, and staff it with UNLV or community college graduates. The only problem is the medical stuff. That shit’s expensive.”

“Zoning and licensing,” said Saber. “But there’s nothing stopping Henry from offering to have anyone he wants, staying on his property.”

“Wish he could have taken all of them,” said Ivy. “But some of them are probably critical care.”

Nina passed more bottles of beer right by Saber’s face to a woman behind him. “We’ll send our own people to nursing school,” she said, grabbing the money the woman passed her. “Beth is graduating this month.” She turned, grabbed some empty glasses, put them in the dishwasher, wiped down the bar, and served two more beers. “Looks like they’re getting a new roomie,” said Nina. “I’ll give Beth a call tomorrow. She was talking about geriatrics, but she talked about how depressing most nursing homes are.”

“Nice,” said Ivy.

* * *

Henry walked with Jimi Toutin, occupational therapist for the blind. She was short, with a cascade of red hair, red-wiry glasses (that made her look like a wise owl), a round face, blue eyes, and a short stature.

“Maia loves to knit and crochet. Her hands are actually in very good condition. She speaks Spanish and Ute, so the staff apparently ignored her at her previous facility. She had to be put in the hospital to detox from meds she didn’t need; she’s recovering from bedsores, and the previous facility’s people screamed at her as if she was deaf. There’s nothing wrong with her hearing. The cataract surgery went wonderfully well, but her eyesight is still diminished. Sadly, we don’t know Braille.”

“Lessons,” said Jimi. “YouTube is great. You can memorize the dots. Label everything —her wardrobe, clothes, including their color, all her materials for knitting and crocheting…”

“Including color,” said Henry. “Looks like we’ve got to get Sophia to cook a meal, and Sister and I need to take Braille lessons, then take her shopping.”

“Just ask her before she comes; what kind of yarn and colors and sizes and gauges she wants. She’ll tell you. She’s calm, but opinionated,” said Jimi.

“What about Vu?” asked Henry.

“Half Thai, half Hispanic. Speaks English, a little Thai, a little Spanish, a little Ute. Very bright. Loves to read.”

Henry opened the door. The brand-new sunroom was large, with floor-to-ceiling windows bringing in the light. It was completely empty. “What do I need in here?” he asked.

“Very comfortable chairs. There are some that have a motorized system to help the elderly person stand up. Furniture that’s widely spaced, so walkers can get around, even wheelchairs. Tables at the perfect height of the chairs. Older people are generally shorter, so be sure the furniture is the right height. Put things like yarn in bins or baskets, rather than drawers that are difficult to open and close. They might get stuck. Knitting needles and hooks in cans labeled in Braille, Spanish and Ute, then beadwork supplies in cases that are easy to open and close. Everything should be labeled in English, Spanish, and Ute that can be read from the doorway. Cup holders —they need hydration. Tables that can be swung in and out and can tilt that are very sturdy, not just your average TV trays. Soft blankets in various weights. Even in the desert, older people get cold. Tablets, so they can read books from the online library and free books for Kindle. They can adjust the fonts and font size to make them easily readable. Lots of light, which you have here. Will this get too hot in the summer?”

“Screens,” said Henry, “and, I just installed more solar panels, so we have power.” He smiled. “Let’s look online,” said Henry. “You can help me shop.”

“Let’s do it,” said Jimi.

Vu was delighted with the sunroom. She sat herself down in a recliner that rose up to meet her butt, then settled back down. There was a little table next to it for her drinks —Henry bought cups with straws with an easy rubber grip; color-coded and Braille, labeled for each person. She swung in the tray, laid her tablet on it, adjusted her glasses on her nose, loaded a library book, and started reading. She was tiny, with a flat nose, and black eyes made huge with her glasses. She had a fall of gray hair she kept in a loose braid. She wore a light shirt, and slacks in bright colors. Today it was teal. She had others in magenta and yellow.

Jake loved her clothes. “Can’t sneak up on us in that getup,” he said.

Henry laughed. “Nope,” he said.

Carl was delighted with the table for just his beadwork, all labeled by size and color. “We tried to get all the sacred colors,” said Henry. “I found an online supply store specifically for Nations beadwork.”

Carl pulled out a bead. “Real silver,” he said. He put it back. He pulled out another one. “Real turquoise.”

“Numa has a trading post on the res,” he said. “You can sell your work there. The stuff for the dances can be sold online, for Southern and Northern Paiute.”

“Always wanted to hang out with some Dine and Hopi, learn their dances and their beadwork,” he said. “Some of it is far more intricate than what I do.” He looked at the cords, the needles, the rock tumbler, and at the diamond-tipped tiny drill for jewelry. “Oh, this is wonderful. I can turn my own beads.”

“You can,” said Henry.

“If you show me what you like, I can help you hunt rocks,” said Jake.

“I may take you up on that,” said Carl.

Maia liked to wear sweat dresses, the simple shifts woman wore to the sweats. She used her fingers to explore her special table just inside the door, complete with bins of yarn, crochet hooks and yarn needles all labeled in Braille on their bases. Everything easy to get to and color-labeled. She sat carefully in her comfy chair. Henry brought her over a light blanket to spread on her lap. Then, she sang as she took out yarn and unraveled it.

Jake realized she literally needed his hands, and he moved over a stool and sat beside her. He took the yarn and had her roll it out onto his hands. She then rolled it into a ball. She sang a Paiute song, so Jake and Carl joined in. Henry left them there, delighted beyond measure.

Sofia and Vi kept the snacks coming; they liked small meals throughout the day, and a bigger meal at four thirty. The ladies went to bed early, and Carl and Jake went to the school; Jake to teach Paiute and Carl to teach beadwork. The kids absolutely loved them.

There was a steady stream of people from the res, coming in to record their stories on video, including Vu and Maia. Tribal elders sought their counsel. And, as the elderly from the raid healed, Henry plotted to build a non-critical care facility by adding onto the house, for non-Alzheimer’s patients that needed more constant care. It would only have two beds, but he’d heard Bella’s description of the horrors she had seen, and he had held her when she had cried. He wasn’t about to let her down.

Takedown

Wraith’s boss pulled her into his office, one barely larger than her cubicle. “We need you to take down a ring of sex traffickers,” he said. “Real nasty folk. Some Russian, some Ukranians, a few Bosnians from Milosovic’s era thrown in for good measure,” he said, naming Serbia’s ex-strongman and instigator of genocide. “These are killers.”

“And I’m going to be trafficked?”

“Yes. They have a network, they offer young women jobs, steal their passports and visas, and force them to work in the nastiest places imaginable. The people running this are large consumers of drugs to keep the women docile. We’re tracing that end too. If they don’t meet their quotas, or they have too many overdoses, they start kidnapping. You’re going to be kidnapped. You’ll have a tracer under your skin, and we’ll pop them as soon as you arrive where the women are. We’ll make our way through the network from there; we have two inside.” He showed her the agents, one DEA of Russian extraction, and one “kidnapper” who spoke fluent Serbian.

Wraith was shocked at how good they blended in. They both definitely looked the part in their photographs.

“These assholes, the Russians, Ukrainians and Bosnians, don’t normally work together. Generally, they hate each other. They are converging because of a sudden hole in the network. We busted seven cells in Newark and five in Chicago. They still have quotas to meet, so they are drawing from each other’s expertise, so to speak.”

Wraith nodded. “Let me go get unpretty, and we can set up bringing me in.”

She was unhappy that Saber couldn’t get in on it; he was tracing guns going to a paramilitary group that believed they needed to start a revolution. She didn’t even know where he was.

She unbraided her hair, then put on product that made it stringy, and made it look like she dyed her hair instead of it being her natural color. She darkened her brows with makeup to increase this effect. She dressed in ancient, torn jeans, a T-shirt, and scuffed running shoes. She used makeup to give herself dark circles under her eyes, and bruising on her stomach.

She met Stankovic at his ancient car in an alley behind a bar. “You look the part,” said FBI Special Agent Stankovic, a specialist in infiltration.

They were the “Dirty FBI,” a team far from the short haircuts, dark suits, and polished shoes of the regular FBI.

She showed him the tracker under her skin, just under her armpit. “Hurt like a mother going in.”

“Stop whining,” he said, smiling at her. “Let’s put in the drops.” The drops slightly dilated her pupils, making it look like she was high, while still allowing her to see. “Sorry ‘bout this,” he said, first grabbing her arms hard enough to leave traces of bruises, then zipping her hands in a special zip tie that looked solid, but was actually weak on one side.

Putting her hands in the front would allow her to defend herself. “Ow,” said Wraith. “Let’s do this.”

Stankovic put her in the trunk, and she bounced around for only a few minutes. She distinctly heard Stankovic talking to another man.

“Yeah, I got a girl in the trunk. Send me to a drop-off.”

“Good,” said the other man, with an obvious Russian accent. “Let me see, no?”

Stankovic popped the trunk. Wraith looked up at them, faking woozy terror. The Russian hit Stankovic on the arm.

“Good one, special bonus. Very pretty.”

“I get bonus when I drop off girl?” asked Stankovic.

“I give you address,” said the Russian. “You do well, they let you have one for an hour, no?”

“Good,” said Stankovic. “But I want cash.”

The Russian spit on the ground, and closed the trunk. “You get your money. Here is address. Go,” he said.

Stankovic turned on the radio while pulling out and, pretending to sing, sang out the address. His off-key voice made Wraith wince. She knew that neighborhood, mostly warehouses.

Few lights were on there, with trash on the streets. Therefore, she wasn’t surprised at either the time it took to get there, or the trash-strewn alley when Stankovic hauled her out, none too gently.

She pretended to ineffectually fight back, and he slapped her. “Quiet!” he said. Wraith allowed her eyes to tear up.

“What you bring us?” said the guy on the door, a hulking man with very hard eyes.

“Special delivery,” said Stankovic. “Vassily is expecting me.”

“Huh,” said the hard-eyed man. “Nice. I help myself to her later.”

Wraith cringed, and got enough rage going on that she was able to cry. “Let… let me go,” she said, swaying.

The mountain at the door opened it after conferring with someone on his cell. Wraith knew Stankovic’s cell was cloning every single phone it came in contact with, and that agents were poring over the information.

“Go on up,” he said.

The warehouse had stairs that led to an office. There were shipping containers in the warehouse, eight of them. Each had a man in front of them, and a padlock.

They’re reusing the containers they get stuffed with illegal girls,” thought Wraith. I wonder if I am supposed to get my own little container?

There were creaking and moaning sounds coming from some of them, and one had the distinctive sound of slaps. Wraith had to work to keep the anger out of her eyes, including her face and her posture. She could go all Valkyrie later.

Stankovic dragged her into the office. Vassily had buzz-cut blonde hair, cold blue eyes, and a face marred by scars.

“Fuck,” said Vassily. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Jovan, Jovan Stankovic. I heard you needed a girl.” He roughly shoved Wraith closer. She shrank back.

“What do we have here?” asked Vassily. “We already have blondes.” He pulled out her T-shirt, looked down at her breasts, looked into her eyes. “This one is already half-baked.”

“I slipped it in her drink,” said Stankovic.

“Good,” said Vassily. “I will try her out. If she is acceptable, I have a client, a very good one. He will like this one.” He grabbed her face roughly. “I will enjoy fucking this one.”

“Payment,” said Stankovic. “She is pretty, young, a little stupid. Her girlfriends left her alone. Dive bar.”

Wraith swayed backward, nearly out of Vassily’s grip. “Lemme… lemme go,” she said.

Vassily slapped her. “Shut up, bitch,” he said. He reached into his back pocket, and took out four hundred-dollar bills.

“I was promised five for high quality,” said Stankovic. “And an hour with a girl.”

“Half an hour,” said Vassily, sighing and handing over another bill. “That’s all they’re good for, no?”

“Which container?” asked Stankovic.

“Left one at the bottom of the stairs,” said Vassily. “Dark-haired one. Not like this one.” He kissed Wraith, bruising her lips. She swayed backward, into Stankovic.

He slipped the tiny knife into her hand. “Have fun,” he said. Vassily grunted. He didn’t realize that Stankovic was talking to her, not him.

Wraith got the knife into the weak spot as Vassily pawed her breast. She allowed one more kiss, then she heard the outside doors smash, with yells of “Freeze!” She kneed Vassily, then gave him a roundhouse kick to the head. Vassily dropped like a stone. She pulled a twist tie out of her back pocket, and kicked him again when he went for his gun. She got him in the tie by immobilizing the joint, then patted him down. She got an interesting array of weapons off him, from guns to brass knuckles, and both a switchblade and a nasty knife.

“Bet you use these to terrify the girls, don’t you?” asked Wraith.

“Bitch!” screamed Vassily, over the gunshots and screams below.

She grabbed her badge from where it had been taped to her inner thigh, and held it up as an agent burst into the door. “You alright?” he said.

“This one runs this warehouse,” she said, pointing a foot at Vassily. “Any of ours hurt?”

“No Ma’am,” said the agent. “Mama taught me to wear Kevlar.”

“Good mama,” said Wraith. “Got any rubber gloves?” He handed her the gloves, and she carefully slid out Vassily’s cell phone. “Let’s go up the chain, shall we?”

“It’s what we’re here for,” said Stankovic, coming in the room. “I know you’re having fun, but Agent Dansi got pulled off for another case. I need help with the victims, and I think there’s one you’ll want to see.”

There were four ambulances. Wraith went down the stairs, and helped each woman into scrubs, and into the waiting ambulances, telling them they would not be deported if they were in America illegally, and that they would find their passports if they were here legally. She spoke in Russian, Spanish, and English.

She found the woman Stankovic referred to. She had long, dark, blue-black hair, soft dark eyes, bruises everywhere. “What nation are you?” asked Wraith.

“Dine,” said the woman. Navajo. She looked fifteen. “Ajai Morales. My mom married a guy who hit her, and me, I ran away… and ran into these…” She began to cry.

Wraith held her. “You have to go to the hospital first,” said Wraith. “I’ll go with you. When you’re better, I know where to take you. No one will ever hit you again.”

Wraith held Ajai’s hand as she was examined, and took her statement. She’d been clubbed on the head at a rest stop, and woke up in a shipping container nightmare of beatings, drugs, and rape. She was treated for two fractures, a cracked rib, and a broken bone in her right hand. She was medicated, and slept.

Wraith broke protocol and called in her sisters for help. Rota and Skuld took turns watching over her as Wraith interviewed the traumatized women. She went home to shower, and then went back to the office in full Valkyrie regalia. She looked like a Martian around all the suits; the “dirty FBI” were all at their desks doing after-action paperwork when not running down leads on the rest of the network.

Wraith alternately did paperwork and bounced in, to torment Vassily, who was waiting on his Russian mob, mouthpiece-lawyer.

“I’ll just talk,” she said, ignoring the clean, polished agents in the room.

She leaned back, put her steel-toed boots on the table, and used Stankovic’s tiny knife to clean out dirt from under her fingernails.

She talked in a conversational tone. “I know, American prisons aren’t as bad as Russian ones. But, human trafficking has attached to it, you; falling in a Supermax hole for the rest of your life, in solitary. No TV, no phone, possibly a book or two. Nothing else.”

“Fuck you,” he said. “I want lawyer.”

“Your lawyer is coming,” said Wraith, cleaning under another fingernail. “But he won’t get you off, or out on bail. You can’t run away under another rock. Those chains you’re wearing, and that orange jumpsuit, get used to them. It’s your new look.”

“I say nothing, bitch,” said Vassily.

“What’s wrong? The big bad Vassily taken down by an itty-bitty woman? How’s the head, Vassily? Can’t get it up unless a woman is drugged, being raped?”

Vassily lunged. Wraith just kicked away his hand. An agent forced him back into his chair. “The kiss you forced on me is the last you’ll ever get, Vassily boy,” she said. “Unless it’s a guy named Bruno in the shower.”

He lunged again, and she caught his hand, twisted it back. He howled, and she released him.

“So easy, Vassily,” she said. “So easy. I knew about this case six hours ago. Never heard your name before tonight. And, now, you’re going down. So fast, so easy.”

Vassily started screaming in Russian. She continued to clean out her nails as he called her disgusting names, described what his people would do to her when they caught her. Unfortunately for him, he used actual names, and there were two Russian speakers listening to every word he said.

Vassily lunged again. Bored, Wraith switched legs, bringing a steel-toed boot to bear on the wrist aimed at her. It didn’t break the wrist because she deliberately hit the manacle. It rang. He sat down, fruitlessly trying to stop the pain in his wrist.

“So easy,” she said. “We raided seven of these little container farms of yours,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll get a few more before dawn. Seventeen women rescued so far. Angry women. They will testify to everything.”

Vassily screamed at her, “I will be out by dawn!”

“You bought me for five hundred dollars. Your fingerprints are on every bill. The only place you’re going is where you’ll never see the sky again.”

“I will be at my dacha in Russia, hearing how my Ivan cut your head from your body. He will send pictures.”

“Here’s a picture for you,” said Wraith, opening up her cell phone. “Ivan looks remarkably like you, doesn’t he?” She turned a photo of a man against a wall, bleeding from several wounds, all of them fatal.

“Your little boy is dead. He shot at two agents. Sadly, for him, they were in full Kevlar, so not a scratch on them.”

Vassily stared at the photo. “Is not real,” he said.

“Chicago,” said Wraith. “Bet you regret sending your little boy into a life of crime, don’t you?”

Vassily pounded the table, again and again. Wraith stood. “Paperwork, you know,” she said. “Think I’ll head out, grab some late-night tacos, enjoy the fresh air,” she said. She leaned in toward him. “You might want to think about telling us about your bosses. The one there? Boris Nachenko? He hid under a desk, after he ordered your son to defend him. Your son died at age twenty for a low-life, even lower than you.”

Vassily stared right through her. “Alrighty then,” said Wraith, standing up and taking her phone back. “Have fun. I’ll be outside, someplace you’ll only be as you’re moved between facilities.” She walked out, humming a little tune, as Vassily pounded the table.

She strode down the hall. “I’ll be at Taco Bell if anyone needs me.”

Special Agent in Charge, named Costas stared at her. “I’ll call you if we need any more suspects hammered,” he said. She waved at him as she strode down the hall, and around a corner.

In the end, the phones talked the most. The data was coded, but relatively easy to crack. The phones led to member after member. As they were captured, more phones led to more phones. They were cute with texting codes, mostly buys and orders. For human beings.

Wraith and Herja escorted a terrified Ajai out of the hospital where she had been treated for post-traumatic stress disorder and her injuries nearly two weeks later.

“What if the judge doesn’t give it?” asked Ajai.

“Remember, your stepfather is in prison, and your two, other sisters have been removed from the house. Your word has been substantiated. Also, you’re a federal witness, and a victim of sex trafficking. That puts you in the position of being able to ask for what you want,” said Wraith.

“Why can’t I live with you?” she asked Rota and Herja, yet again.

“One, long word, sister, ‘hydroponics,’” said Herja. “Finish off high school and get all the knowledge you can while you’re at Henry’s farm. We’ll be here when you ‘graduate’ from Henry’s program. You can’t separate us that easily.”

“Besides,” said Rota, “we’re still getting our adoption classes finished. Your mother doesn’t seem to want to get out of her abuse cycle. The Navajo are on board with us adopting you and your little sisters.” She sighed. “I just got our apartment the way I like it.”

Herja laughed. “You’ve got a whole townhome to fix the way you like it.” Rota laughed.

Judge Regina Rajiin was quick and efficient; Wraith had laid out the case well, and had hired a lawyer named Gina Alvogado, another Dine, to represent her. Gina showed proof that the tribe would release Ajai and, eventually, her sister, as they had failed to protect the children adequately. Herja and Rota had agreed to teach the children Navajo. They knew and approved of Henry, so that helped.

They went out for tacos to celebrate, then they rode to Henry’s farm. Inola, now hugely pregnant, met them. “Your pod is this way,” she said.

“Am I a pod person, now?” asked Ajai.

Inola laughed. “I feel like one today. Ryder won’t stop kicking.”

* * *

Both Gregory and Nantan, who had been talking at the fence line and watching the horses, ran over when liquid hit the ground.

“Well, there goes my water,” said Inola, grabbing her back. She pulled out her phone. “Calling the midwife,” she explained. Henry walked her back toward the main house as she talked on the phone.

“While Inola has Ryder,” said Nantan, “Life goes on at the farm.”

Jeffrey pounded up on Casper, a gray rescue. “She havin’ the baby?” he asked.

“Yep,” said Nantan. “If I were you, I’d stay on top of the chores, and stay out of the main house. Some things you can’t unsee.”

“I’ll keep the barn and horses as if Inola were doing it herself.”

“Good,” said Nantan. “This here’s Ajai. She’s Dine. She’s new.”

“Cool,” said Jeffrey. “I’m Jeffrey. Stable hand.”

Nantan snorted. “Horse whisperer. We adopt them.”

Herja and Rota saw her pod, and pronounced it perfect. They gave her a brand-new tablet, and Valkyrie clothes —jeans, tees with designs embossed in silver, gold, or red, and her own pair of steel-toed boots. She hugged them, cried, and ran off with Nantan to check out the hydroponics house.

“They grow up so fast,” said Rota, tears in her eyes. Herja hugged her, and Wraith led them back to their bikes. “Meet here on Saturday for the ride?” asked Wraith.

“Abso-fukin-lutely,” said Herja.

* * *

The baby tom-tom network worked perfectly fine. Bella, who had just filled out her bar cart, was unceremoniously kicked out of Dirty Vegas for at least two weeks. Ace reminded her to keep her speed down and her eyes open on the way home. The midwife, Yela Racan, was from the res. She kept Inola walking, talking, and breathing deeply.

Bella did the worst Harley parking job ever, and ran into the house. Jake and Numa sang sacred songs as Bella and Inola walked the halls. Henry walked around wild-eyed, until David had him pulled away urgently on tribal business for an hour or two. Vu read a book on how to nurse the baby to Inola as she walked; both Inola and Bella asked questions. The panting got louder, they slow-walked into the bedroom. Sister was ready with a rubber sheet under the regular one, and two sets of bedding in case of accidents.

Gregory and Katya came over with the twins, adding to the noise. The babies were passed around like footballs. Simultaneous games of Frisbee and soccer broke out, teens versus older people. Nantan came and rounded up teens for evening chores, and they came back, sweaty, to play again. Gregory made his signature ribs, Katya her potato soup. Sister Vi baked up biscuits, and Nantan made green salad and a corn salsa that was amazing.

The teens mowed down bags of chips and salsa as if they weren’t having dinner later. The pies went in; apple, blueberry, blackberry, and plum, and a sinful, peanut butter, silk pie. The chefs rotated in and out, not wanting to miss the fun. The board and card games came out, popcorn was popped, and the sodas and snacks kept flowing.

Ryder Bella came into the world squalling; six pounds, two ounces, demanding to be fed. The party went from the kitchen to the entire wraparound patio. The baby was shown off as Inola showered, then sent back to Mom, squalling because she was as hungry as a hippo.

Inola slept as Bella held the baby, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Ryder,” she said, “you had a tough start, but you’re loved, by so many people they are still coming to the house. You’ll ride horses and Harleys, and braid your hair on one side like the Valkyries, and Henry will be way too overprotective. You will never, ever, have to wonder if you are loved.”

Henry, David, and Numa were standing right outside the door, coming to sing over the baby. All three of them stood there in the hallway, with tears streaming down their faces. Numa recovered first, and went in to sing over the baby. Henry and David eventually followed.

Henry and David waved goodbye to the last guest. The teens had moved quickly to help clean up the living room, and had stolen the card games to play in the dorm.

“They will not work tomorrow,” said Henry.

“Neither will we,” said David, taking the clip out of the base of his hair and putting it on the counter. “Except for cooking and feeding the animals, I declare a holiday.”

Both men kicked off their boots. Henry glared at David. “You sent me off to help the council decide where to put the new senior center,” he said. “That could have waited.”

David laughed. “You were about to make Inola crazy,” he said. “Your worry would have pissed her off.” He took off his shirt and threw it into the laundry hamper.

Henry threw his own shirt in. “You try my patience,” he said.

David laughed again. “Even Sister was trying to get you to calm down.”

“Vi,” said Henry. “But, I forget and call her Sister as well.” He took the work gloves out of his jeans and hung them on a hook. “We did not do well there, I think. We should have sought her family.”

“She was running from something,” said David. “We agreed that to keep her safe, following her back to her source may not be wise.” He took off his belt, hung it up. Henry did as well, rolling it up and putting it in a drawer with his other ones.

“I am terrified,” said Henry, “To lose all that we have built here.”

David took off his jeans put them in the hamper, pulling on the shorts he wore to bed. “Then you are a fool,” he said. “Inola and Numa will carry on what you have started, and Nantan, and Gregory. We’re not old men,” he said, embracing Henry. “We’re only in our fifties. We work harder than ten city men, not fat and lazy like them. We have strong arms,” he said, flexing his bicep.

Henry barked out a laugh. “Showoff.” He turned around and kissed David. “I have loved you for thirty years. I am so glad you found me.”

Two Paiute men had wanted to be medicine men, one an Arizona transplant who had studied under a medicine man there. He knew all the songs, and how to use his hands to heal. The other was learning rapidly.

“Just in time, too,’ David said. “I could give up my hogan to the younger men and move here.” He touched Henry’s head. “You terrified me, love.”

Henry had been bashed on the head and had been unable to protect Inola from the rape that had impregnated her. All the perpetrators were dead, courtesy of Ivy and a very angry Inola.

“You went inside yourself for so long that I was afraid I could not sing you back.”

“I came back to apologize to Inola, to give her whatever she needed.” He looked deep into David’s soft brown eyes. “Love,” he said, “You were icing on the cake.”

They kissed then, gentle leading to insistent. David stripped off Henry’s jeans, and Henry took off David’s shorts. They took it slow, easy, their hands knowing each other’s bodies. They had grown up together as boys, running all over the res together, working with horses on the farm Henry now owned, and working in the store all summer long that Numa eventually bought.

“I thought you were handsome,” said Henry, remembering the boy on a bike, pedaling into the wind. He kissed David’s lips. “You still are.”

David laughed. “Says the man with rock-hard abs.” He traced Henry’s stomach. “I love you,” he said.

Henry stroked David’s stomach. “You too,” he said. “Living on a farm is agreeing with you.” He smiled. “Let’s go out tomorrow on a long ride with the horses.”

“Not that new skittish one,” said David.

“No,” said Henry. “Not the skittish one.”

They took off their boxers and stood there, smiling, looking into each other’s eyes. David threw the clothes in the hamper, and Henry led him to the shower.

They took their time washing each other’s hair. They washed each other; slowly, reveling in touch they couldn’t have had if Henry had died in a closet, his head bashed in. They soaped each other, stroking, groaning, kissing. The hot water pounded their backs. David caressed Henry’s balls, found the spot just behind them that made him clasp his hand in David’s hair, pulling his head back, so he could kiss his neck. Henry let go to reach down and do the same to David, then rolled his fingers up over the balls to cup David’s cock in his hands. David rolled his eyes, and barely held onto himself in order to do the same to Henry.

David came first, in Henry’s hand, and Henry came next. They washed each other again, and Henry led them out of the shower. They dried each other off, then Henry braided David’s hair. They pulled on shorts, climbed into bed, and held each other close. Just as they were slipping into sleep, the baby cried, and was soon quieted.

“No more quiet nights for us,” said David.

“Is it not wonderful?” Henry asked, stroking David’s face. “Goodnight, love,” he said, kissing him. David kissed him back. “If you keep that up, we will have another reason for not sleeping tonight,” said Henry.

“Really?” asked David, and they kissed again, not hearing the baby squall one more time, angered at changing breasts. They definitely heard the crying at three am.

Rally

The rally to Lake Havasu started in Los Angeles. Ivy left the club in Cougar’s capable hands, moved the bar backs up to full servers, and hired some temp bar backs for the run.

“Be good for ‘em,” said Cougar. “You and Ace gonna have your hands full with babies. You’ll both be part time. They may as well step up.”

“I’ve got a better idea. Nina’s graduating soon. Find out which temp we hire works out, and move up Bella’s bar back to full bartender. We gotta have fast bartenders, you know that.”

“Shake it or move on,” said Cougar. “Abso-fuckin’-lutely.”

“Sure you don’t want to close the bar to go to the rally?”

“Nope,” said Cougar. “Be great to run things without you all in my business.”

“Honey,” said Ivy, “I only want to be up in Callie’s business.” Both women laughed.

Bao took on Hu and Grace. Gregory left the twins in the capable hands of his wife and the babushkas. He slept in Henry’s house the night before the rally, getting his first full night’s sleep since the babies had been born. Katya had accused him of being a too-hands-on papa. Elena doted on her siblings, and the babushkas were over nearly every day, waiting on Katya hand and foot.

Ace had moved back in with Lily. The time apart had given both of them enough time to grieve more deeply than they would have if they had been trying to prop each other up. Or even feeling the guilt they both felt when they looked at one another. It also saved them from having said stupid things to each other in their grief, or worrying about each other when Lily couldn’t get out of bed with grief.

They picked up Keiran and Pavel the day before. The boys were so excited for the ride that they didn’t get much sleep, talking well into the night.

There were so many of them making the four-hour ride to Venice Beach that they had to go in stages. The Valkyries met before first light, and Wraith was with them, hair spilling out behind them, with Lita Ford’s Kiss Me Deadly, blaring in their earbuds. Wraith was long over moving from the Nighthawks to the Valkyries. Her sisters made her stronger, wilder, and all the better for her to go deep undercover and retain more of herself when she resurfaced. Saber changed to the Iron Knights with Ace, Henry, and Ivy’s blessing. He exalted in the open road, laughing into the wind.

Herja led, Rota with Ajai on the back. The girl took to bikes like a duck to water. Herja suspected they had a Harley mechanic on their hands, not a hydroponics specialist, but time would tell. Their last class was on Tuesday, and then they could move six-year-old Awee and four-year-old Doba into their house in stages, starting with visits and lots of Navajo language lessons.

The Iron Knights followed at dawn, Springsteen’s Born to Run in their ears. The Nighthawks had a more family-oriented approach, dogs in their special carriers with harnesses in the back, and sidecars with larger dogs or elderly people. The teens riding behind; Ace had Keiran, Lily (Pavel), and the Wolfpack spread out among the rest of the Nighthawks.

They met for a raucous dawn breakfast at a pancake house, and managed to get everyone on the road by seven. Tom Petty’s Running Down a Dream blaring in their ears.

All three groups made good time, and had time for lunch on the beach before the rally began at one o’clock. It took time to get all the T-shirts handed out, with The Wounded Warriors Project logo on the front, and the club logo printed on the back. Henry and Ivy had paid a lot of money to have all the teens with the Nighthawks logo, except for Ajai, who wore the Valkyries logo. They mounted up, the Iron Knights heading out first, then the Valkyries, then more clubs.

As the last to sign in, the Nighthawks were part of the kerfuffle when it was determined that there weren’t enough bikers to carry the Wounded Warriors who were picking up specialized prosthetics fitted to them in Lake Havasu in a special session.

Jake immediately hopped out of the sidecar, and offered to take a bus back to Vegas. “Ain’t no warrior left behind when my bony ass can find another way back.”

To their credit, two of the teens said much the same thing. Ivy and Bella each took one, and Ivy called for Wraith to send Herja back. Herja came back with Rota and Ajai, and six more Valkyries. They got everybody loaded up, literally tying several warriors with both arms or legs missing to the bikes. A Warrior got the sidecar, and Jake’s “bony ass” ended up with another one of the Nighthawks.

They took frequent breaks, with the Warriors with them. It took forever to get out of LA, then they opened up on the highway. They listened to the Eagles’ Take It Easy, and Here I Go Again by Whitesnake. They hit the high desert, and stopped off in Indio for food and icy drinks. They took the 10 to the 192 to the left at 177. The wind was in their hair, the road cutting through the desert like a black ribbon.

They made it there in time for the Warriors to be fitted for their prosthetics. The teens all stumbled to benches, not used to long rides. Ivy and the Valkyries brought back sodas and snacks, and they unfolded their folding chairs, rolled out their sleeping bags, and settled in. There was amazing music, dancing, vendors selling every food imaginable, and the ceremony that proclaimed the total raised; they hit half a million dollars.

The band went into a rousing round of Tubthumping by Chumbawamba, followed by Imagine Dragon’s Warriors and AC/DC’s Thunderstruck.

When the sun started to go down, the rally then spread out, with some staying to dance, and others heading out to set up tents, check into hotels, or just stare out at the lake.

Henry led a group of Warriors to his favorite spot to pitch a tent, with a gorgeous view of the lake, far enough back that no one would inadvertently go swimming in the dark. They had the tents up in no time, helping each other out. One guy in a wheelchair zipped all over the place, pulling a line taut here, setting up a fire pit there. They pulled out guitars and drums and pounded out songs, wailing into the night. Henry left them to it, giving them the GPS coordinates and his phone number when they wanted to bug out in the morning.

Henry made it to the teen area nearby. Nantan was surrounded by Valkyries, determined to protect the teens if need be. The Valkyries and the Iron Knights set up shop a little farther along the curve of the lake. They cooked their own hot dogs and hamburgers, veggie burgers for two of them, and then they ate s’mores.

The Valkyries started singing, starting with What’s Going On, by Four Non Blondes. The kids heard the songs coming from farther down the lake.

“Damn, Ivy can sing,” said Ajai, into Herja’s ear.

“Absolutely,” said Herja. “She’s one of strongest, most talented women I know. You want an example of how to be? Check her out.”

“I’ve got you, and Wraith, and Rota. Wraith took me out of hell.” She stared across the fire as Ivy sang, Stay with Me. “I think I want to be Wraith. I’ve done Nantan’s thing. I love the horses, but shoveling shit isn’t my thing.” Herja barked out laughter. “I love hanging out with Killa and Ghost and Bonnie building the bikes. I’m gonna save up to go to the Harley mechanic’s school in Colorado. Ivy told me about it. Then, I’ll have a good cover.”

Herja figured she knew where this was going. “Cover?”

“I want to do what Wraith does. Go in, take the bad guys out. I’ll have to get my sisters raised up first.”

Herja shook her head. “That’s our job. You focus on what you want. If you wanna be Wraith, then do it. Just know, you’re picking the most dangerous path. What happened to you, could happen again when you’re undercover. You gotta get forged with steel, be able to walk through anything, not freeze up if the path repeats. We’ve got a good dojo we like. You’ll get strong so you can bring it to those that smash others down; smash them down for a change.”

Ajai stared into the fire. “I understand.”

“It’s not the Dine way,” said Rota, on her other side. “They prefer the path of peace. You must be certain that’s what you want.”

“I want to protect those who have no voice. I want to hear those who no one listens to.”

“That’s a worthy goal,” said Herja. “Your name shall be Alvitr, or all-wise. You must know when to fight, when to use guile, when to walk away, when to punish, and when to have mercy.”

Ajai held her hands out, and Herja took one, Rota the other. “The gods have sent us a warrior daughter,” said Herja. “We are beyond blessed.”

“We owe Wraith, for saving you, for making us a family,” said Rota.

“You owe me nothing,” said Wraith, coming over to crouch in front of them. “Or, if you think you do, pay it forward.”

“I will,” said Alvitr/Ajai.

Ivy went into the Eurythmics’ Sweet Dreams, followed by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts’ I Love Rock n’ Roll. They continued with Meridith Brooks’ Bitch, making them sway. Herja hopped up and sang Evanescence’s Bring Me to Life, with Devastator.

Alvitr/Ajai’s jaw hit the ground. “I have the coolest mom,” she said.

Wraith laughed as Rota humphed. “I am out-classed by my own wife,” she said.

The songs eventually stopped, leading to simple guitar. The women’s voices rose, fell, melted together. The music was sexy and haunting, and it carried across the water. Those that could hear fell asleep —or were unable to sleep, haunted by the melodies, or craving to be in the arms of their own private angel —or Valkyrie, as the case may be.

Morning found the waffle houses and cafes stuffed full. Many found their solace in coffee, cola, or a pecan waffle and syrup, sugar high. The Iron Knights left first, then the Valkyries struck their tents, after ensuring all the Wounded Warriors had rides to wherever they wanted to go.

Getting the teens up and the tents struck nearly took cattle prods. Ivy returned with two cases of cola, and they moved faster. They fed them all on the outdoor patio of a cafe, where they consumed stacks of pancakes, platters of bacon and sausages, and enough syrup to fill up the lake behind them. They went paddle boarding, and had a lunch of sandwiches and potato chips by the lakeside. Then, they headed home to Vegas, pounding out music in their ears, faces to the wind. This time they had a beautiful time. Everyone won.

“Sometimes life is two steps forward, and four back.”