They took the private plane to Virginia and landed in Charlottesville. They rented a nice SUV, and drove to the mountain town of Staunton, Virginia, just to investigate. Thandie and Daisy Chain had made significant progress on finding Mr. Evil Asshole, as Daisy Chain had called him. Daisy Chain got on a group call with Thandie, Wraith, Saber, and Sigrun. They were on speaker, on secured cellphones.

“Evil Asshole did have police to the house a few months ago. Wife ‘fell down the stairs,’” she said, her voice dripping with disgust. “No charges were filed; broken arm, hit her head.”

“Hit upside the head,” said Thandie. “Asshole. Hence the name Evil Asshole,” said Thandie. “Dug into his financial sewers.”

“That far down?” asked Wraith. “Or that smelly?”

“Both,” said Daisy Chain. “Got into the down and dirty. Asswipe has accounts in the Caymans, hidden brokerage accounts and trusts, and five layers of holding companies for everything. Dude should have used cryptocurrency like Bitcoin. Idiot.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Wraith, dryly. “Thandie, you keeping High Desert in business?”

Thandie snorted. “Dude, you’ve only been gone four days.”

Daisy Chain snorted. “Give her at least a week to screw up.” Thandie made a rude noise.

“Focus, people,” said Sigrun. “Give us the GPS.”

“Not so fast,” said Thandie. “We gotta time this op.”

“Padawan, grown up, you are,” said Sigrun, in a Yoda voice.

Thandie roared with laughter. “There is no try,” she said.

Daisy Chain said, “Sending you the schedules now. Idiot keeps everything on an online scheduler. Thinks his encryption software is worth what he paid. Silly boy.”

“Wife too,” said Thandie. “Getting the cast off tomorrow.”

“Ooh, let’s talk to her today,” said Sigrun.

“First on the list. Hair appointment. Or gym; lady does laying-down Pilates with the arm,” said Thandie.

“After the Pilates, tired, in pain,” said Saber. His wives stared at him.

“Man has a point,” said Thandie.

“Wish he didn’t,” said Wraith. “I’ll take the hair appointment,” said Wraith. Now, two sets of eyes were on her. “Re-braiding.”

“Yes, of course,” said Sigrun, snorting. Braiding time was when they bonded at night, chatting about their days, their plans, their hopes for the future.

“Already booked time under a fake name, Ms. Jones,” said Thandie. “IDs in your packets. You two are a lesbian couple from New Mexico. Mr. Chuan, you are their lawyer. They are bad, bad girls needing protection from their evil deeds.” All three snorted. “Dead drop in Roanoke, turn right, mailbox place on your left, pick up a meal, make it to the hair appointment with plenty of time. Drop off our Ms. Jones, then off to the coffee shop across the street to wait on our trophy wife.”

“I hate that terminology,” said Sigrun. “Women aren’t things.”

“That’s how our asshole thinks,” said Thandie. “Women are objects, remember?”

“Makes covering up gang rape more palatable,” said Wraith. “Evil fucking asshole.”

“Let’s take this fucker down,” said Saber.

“Word,” said Sigrun. They hung up and implemented the plan.

* * *

Sigrun drove them right up to the mailbox place in Alexandria, Virginia. Wraith ran in, grabbed the small box, and ran back out. Inside were driver’s licenses, passports, shopping cards, the whole works. Sigrun got a leather biker’s wallet. Wraith was a standard woman’s wallet in a pale pink leather. Saber’s was really disgusting, a fake alligator wallet.

“Now I have to buy a suit.”

“Got a text on the Bond, James Bond, phone,” said Wraith. “Take two lefts, and then go straight a bit. Men’s shop near here. Suit already purchased, swear it’s one-hour tailoring.”

“Wow,” said Saber. “And I get to keep the suit?”

“Ladies are two more blocks over, then left, left, right, says the text,” added Wraith. “And yes, we get to keep the stuff, Bannon’s money, part of the reward money for taking out the other cartel’s bad people.”

“Awesome,” said Sigrun.

Saber went in and was whisked back to get a blue silk suit. It screamed money and lack of taste. He laughed in his head as the tailor took his measurements, then had him try on the suit and began taking it in. Could use this for a few ops, he thought. Drug dealer, evil lawyer, idiot middle-aged man who thinks he’s sexy. He had to keep from laughing aloud as he had the world’s most expensive suit for people “with more brains than sense” tailored to his body.

Sigrun had fun picking out biker wear, jeans, and a leather vest with only a tiny camisole underneath that showed off her assets. Wraith eyed her up and down and said, “Doesn’t that chafe?”

“My girls aren’t that big,” said Sigrun.

“I don’t know whether to slap you or stick my tongue down your throat,” said Wraith, holding up a blouse against her tanned skin.

Sigrun laughed. “Try both,” she said.

Wraith grimaced at her. “Love shouldn’t hurt.”

“Bad taste,” said Sigrun. “Forgot our target. Sorry.”

“Yes, that outfit’s in bad taste,” said Wraith.

“Try the blue,” said Sigrun.

Wraith took the blue, sleeveless, crossover blouse and the black palazzo pants with a hint of silver in them, straight into the changing room. She came out, and found Sigrun changed back, holding a double handful of bangles and necklaces. Sigrun took some silver and some blue bangles, and a silver drop necklace. Sigrun took the rest back, and came back with some matching silver drop earrings. Then, Sigrun covered herself in woven black leather bands, with a silver spider choker on a silver web, on a black ribbon choker.

“Very funny,” said Wraith, pointing to the necklace. Sigrun added a slave bracelet on her other wrist in pewter, then added ear cuffs to the top of her ears. “Badass,” said Wraith.

“Let’s use our new credit cards,” said Sigrun.

They found that there was already store credit, for more than they’d bought, so each one got another outfit. Wraith got a silver shirt and dark blue pants with a silvery wash, and a silver mesh bracelet with a matching choker. Sigrun got more badass jeans, and a black, leather, lace-up top, and topped those off with more chokers and bracelets. Sigrun had to get workout gear, so two stores over, they got a black t-shirt that had a cute cat with the caption Kill Them All, and black shorts.

They left with their purchases, and then went to find Saber. They found him at the agreed-upon coffee shop. He was reading the local newspaper. His eyes widened slightly as he saw Wraith’s look. Sigrun’s look made him grin.

He went to pick up his suit, and the ladies picked him up, post caramel-macchiato coffee bliss. They stopped to get a sports bag, water bottle, hair beads, and a cheap lock for Sigrun from a dollar store, and they both laughed as Wraith drove while Sigrun stomped on the bag to make it more beat-up. They twisted the clothes for the same reason.

They made it to the Tyson’s Corner townhome, and they dropped her off two blocks from The Workout Joint. Sigrun saw their mark, and then rushed to enter ahead of her. She used the pass she found in her wallet and went in like a local to work out. She dressed near her mark, and then winced at the bruises.

“Can I help you get that over your head?” she asked, because it had taken her only a few minutes to strip down and change. She gestured at the torn workout top.

“I got it,” said Janine River Thomas. She winced as she put the shirt on.

“I looked like that after my last kickboxing match,” said Sigrun.

Janine winced as the back of the shirt caught on her glossy blonde ponytail. Sigrun reached up and freed her shirt. Janine was startled. “Sorry,” said Sigrun. “After a match, I don’t like anyone moving too fast near my face either.”

Janine winced a smile. “No, I’m sorry. Thanks.”

She made no move to correct Sigrun’s kickboxing-match impression. Her ribs showed as she pulled down the loose red shirt with a Nike swoosh on it. She was wearing Nike shoes, a (nearly) brand-new pair.

Sigrun nodded at her. “See ya at the bags,” she said. Janine nodded. Sigrun hoped she actually took her up on it.

Sigrun went out first, and jumped rope a bit, and did some repeated moves for a high-intensive, interval training workout. With punches, kicks, blocks, knees. Janine lifted some super-light weights with one hand, and she moved like an arthritic eighty-year-old dancer, with halting moves that covered a simple grace. She then laid on the floor and did some Pilates for her legs.

Janine got some water, post-Pilates, and came over to the heavy bag. Sigrun swiveled to show Janine what she was doing, and walked her through some simple jabs and roundhouses, and a knee, slowly, then speeding up a little. Sort of like yoga for kickboxers. Sigrun kept her moves clean and showed her the correct form.

The woman, still sore from her latest beating, bruises hidden under the folds of her shirt, was breathing hard. Pushing out breaths, after only a few moments of giving it a try with moves designed to barely touch the bag. Sigrun bade that she get herself more water, and the woman watched as Sigrun attacked a bag. Janine flinched at the hits, so Sigrun backed it up a bit so she wouldn’t make noise. Janine watched carefully.

Afterward, Sigrun helped Janine to the showers, took off her shirt for her, and helped her unhook her sports bra. “Heat,” she said. “The water as hot as you can stand it. Think lobster.” Sigrun helped her slide on the rubber cover for the cast.

“Thank you,” said Janine.

“Anything for another fighter,” said Sigrun. They showered, and Sigrun dried her hair and braided it. She was fast, now that she’d been doing it for so long.

“Why the braids?” asked Janine.

“Club I’m in. Motorcycle club.” Sigrun started on the second-to-last braid.

“They… allow women?” asked Janine. She winced as she dried her hair, then threw the towel into the towel bin.

Sigrun laughed, when she wanted to scream at being “allowed” to do anything. “An all-women club. We kickbox a lot,” Sigrun said.

“They… I…” Janine dried herself and managed to put on lotion.

“Need help?” said Sigrun, very, very quietly.

“Yes,” said Janine, at a near-whisper.

Sigrun nodded once, then finished her last braid. “I’ll hold the blow dryer when you need help on the other side.”

“Can I have your braids?” asked Janine.

“Happen to have an extra pack of beads,” said Sigrun. “Red, yellow, black, silver, gold?”

“Gold,” whispered Janine.

Sigrun texted Wraith while Janine blew half her hair dry. Skipping to phase three.

Wraith texted back. Good. I would have hated taking out my braids. Pickup on its way.

Sigrun put away her phone, put on her jeans and cami, and went over to help Janine dress and braid the other side of her hair. “My husband,” Janine near-whispered, “did this to me.”

“Happens more than you know,” said Sigrun. “You’re not alone.”

Janine worked on trying to stop the tears from falling. “I leave him, I get nothing. Not a dime.”

“He gives you presents? Jewelry?” asked Sigrun.

“Yes, but it’s all fake,” she said. “I read a website, it said to make a plan, money is a first step. I had it appraised, and it was worthless. Gold, diamonds, sapphires. Even the silver was plated.”

“Is it worth your life to stay?” asked Sigrun. She slid on the bead, and wound a rubber band below it, onto the first braid.

“No,” said Janine, almost voicelessly. “Not anymore.”

“Family? Friends?” asked Sigrun.

“All dead,” said Janine. “School shooting. Lost friends. Got real scared. My mama drank, left us. Dad did crystal, died a few years ago. I had to do something. Won a few beauty pageants, got married.” She sniffled. “Now I’m gonna die, or probably leave with nothing.”

“The thing is, you are not nothing. You must value yourself first,” said Sigrun. She finished the second, then the third braid. “The first bruise is on him. The second bruise is on you, for not running like hell.”

Janine’s face got tight. “You blamin’ me for…”

“For not running the first time it happened,” said Sigrun. “Men like that do not change. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.”

Janine made a fist, then nodded. “Could set his bed on fire.”

Sigrun nodded. “You could, then spend twenty years in prison. I’ve got a better plan.”

“What is it?” asked Janine.

“Men like him don’t change. He had to have done stuff to other people.”

Janine’s face got still while her green doe-eyes teared up. “I listened to his phone calls. He’s done plenty.”

“Then tell me, I tell the club, and someone sends a phone call or a text to someone. He home now?”

“No. He’ll be in Fredricksburg for lunch, then golf. Won’t be home until after seven.”

“Then, we’ve got time,” said Sigrun. “Time to get your stuff. Time to go. Time to get one over on him. Possibly prison time.”

“Will I have to testify?” asked Janine.

Sigrun shook her head. “What happened to you is small potatoes compared to what men like him really do. Can we get him locked up for what he did to you? Absolutely. But, then you’ve got a target on your back. No, we just take your stuff —or not, if you don’t want to go back…”

“A few things,” said Janine. “Not much. Stuff my mother gave me, stuff like that. I can’t get into the safe. He changes the combination every week.”

“No problem,” said Sigrun. “Does he have cash in there?”

“Some. Only ‘bout ten thousand.”

“That’s enough for a ticket to a warm place and a cold drink,” said Sigrun.

Janine’s eyes lit up, then dimmed. “How will I live?”

“Bartender school,” said Sigrun. “New name, new social security card. Sound good?”

“Take me to your leader,” said Janine.

Sigrun laughed. “Don’t know which friends are meeting us, but you’ll be on the road in a few hours, I guarantee. Dinner in truck stops, long hours. Be sore. But, we’ll get you enough states over by nightfall that he can’t locate you.”

Janine held up her cast. “Can’t ride with this.”

Sigrun asked, “When were you supposed to have it off?”

“Tomorrow,” said Janine.

“Tomorrow just became within the hour,” said Sigrun. “Now, let’s meet our new friends, shall we?”

A braided Valkyrie and her Gearhead lover met them on identical blue Harleys around back, both riders with nut-brown skin and toothy smiles. They rode a few blocks to a gardening store. The Valkyrie ran in, and then came out with flattened shears. The fiberglass cast went into a dumpster, and the shears went into a saddlebag.

They picked up a duffel bag, then waited around the block while Janine went in, then came out with the duffel stuffed. “Sorry,” she said. “Hid some stuff from him, old pictures, stuff like that. He’d get coked up and tear them up,” said the woman.

“Let’s go,” said Sigrun.

She handed Janine a headset, and then taught her how to use it. Sigrun took the time between Interstate 66 to Woodstock and Knoxville on the US Interstate 81, to catch up on Gary Walker Thomas’ life, whispers of deals on the phone. Sigrun would switch channels, and then relay the info to Daisy Chain. As the tidbits added up, Sigrun learned a lot about shady real estate transactions. They switched to Interstate 40, just before Knoxville, and ended up stopping over in Fort Smith, Arkansas for the night.

Janine got a soft, wavy hairstyle and blue-black hair, making her creamy skin stand out. “I kinda like it,” said Janine. They got the fake nails and eyelashes off her, and then bought her jeans and a jacket, and some western shirts that made her look nothing like her (bottled-blonde) former self.

A package was waiting for them, along with Janine’s new ID and nine thousand dollars in cash, at a mailbox place in Oklahoma City the very-next day. Sigrun paid the riders for their time, and she got a quick wave as they rode out. They walked to a nearby pancake house, and had pecan waffles, crispy bacon, and orange juice. A trucker at the end of the breakfast bar gave the correct signal, and took them to Albuquerque, New Mexico. They sat in the cab of his truck.

In Albuquerque, Sigrun got Janine, now “Mary Price,” into a bartending school and then took her to a temporary apartment where she paid for two months of rent, in advance.

“Take the course, get a job, put up first and last, move in, keep your head down. Spend as little of your money as possible, to make it last. Memorize your data sheet. Still a small-town beauty queen, so not a stretch. Watch YouTube videos to get your accent right, so you blend in here. It’s your homework. No getting drunk or high for at least two months to get your Mary Price persona intact. Then, have at it. Just, no more guys who hit, or you’ll lose your new life, too. Take some online courses, see what you like.” She handed “Mary” a tablet computer and a cell phone. “And, for Odin’s sake, don’t fuck it up.”

“Got it,” said the new Mary Price. “If I do, you’ll kick my ass yourself.” Sigrun nodded, and they hugged. “Will I ever hear from you again?”

“Not a peep,” said Sigrun. “Unless you become a Valkyrie, but you need a Harley to do that. There’s people that refurbish them, sell them for less. Save up, then you can go wherever the fuck you want, just stay west of Missouri. This is as good a place as any to start over.”

“Will I ever hear from Gary again?”

“Not a peep,” said Sigrun. She waved, hoofed it down the stairs, and walked out of the complex. She called an Uber and got a business-class ticket back to Vegas.

* * *

Meanwhile, Phase 3 was in play. Daisy Chain was delighted with Janine’s information. “This is golden data; I ran it all down. I sent you a new packet —a very helpful list of account numbers is inside. There are other records Evil Asshole worked very hard to keep hidden. And far more property than the one in Staunton. A numbered list which are the numbers of soldiers, with codes for the crimes that he covered up. It’ll take military intelligence about six minutes to figure it out. Our girl’s code is hidden in there. Group rape will get their attention. Assaults, other shit he covered up for his own personal, sniper-spotter team. Their codes are hidden in there too, as the perpetrators, along with dates. It will look like he kept it for insurance, in case they turned on him and didn’t know that they suddenly got dead. You’ll need to lift his prints and get them on there. I used gloves and standard printer paper, and then a printer like his. Same make and model.”

“You rock,” said Wraith. “We on for the lawyer gig?”

“Go,” said Daisy Chain.

Saber and Wraith pretended to be a scummy lawyer and his client. They met him at the bar of his favorite club, where he was sipping a caramel-colored liquid, neat. Saber sat on one side of him, and Wraith on the other. Gary Walker Thomas (AKA Mr. Evil Asshole) had close-shorn gray hair, and a squashed nose with hints of red, all set into a florid face. His head was a little too large, and it sat on a tight neck, his white dress shirt open at the collar and dampened with sweat. He wore black slacks, a silver and black Tag Heuer Carrera, and spit-polished, shiny shoes. He had the gravitas of a two-star general. He had narrowed dark eyes and a mouth sagging from too much sun and alcohol on the links.

Saber spoke with a perfect Australian accent. “G’day, mate. Looking for a General Thomas. That you?”

“It is,” he said. “Who are you?”

“I’m from the Caymans. Represent some clients there.” He handed over the business card with the name of the general’s bank and a phone number on it. “Call it if you like. I’m here to get you interested in a little deal.”

“Who are you?” the general asked Wraith.

“Trina Jones. I am an investor. I have had thirty-six percent returns. They sometimes go down to ten percent. One month, they hit seven percent. A change in banking regulations, I believe. I have invested in the same bank as you have. I never invest more than thirty percent. I have twenty-eight percent invested now.” She handed over a printout that showed eighteen months of profits.

The bartender came back. “What is this gentleman having?” asked Wraith, in a highly cultured voice. Her hair was in a complicated series of braids that were knotted in the back, and she was wearing the blue top. She had very understated, expensive makeup, courtesy of a trip to a department-store makeup demonstration. She looked expensive, but not stupid.

“Johnnie Walker Blue,” the bartender said. She held up three fingers.

“We’ll take a round.” She handed over her black card, courtesy of Daisy Chain. The card got the general’s attention.

“So, what do you want from me?” asked the general.

“A signed agreement. Five percent.” That amount came to several thousand dollars, chump change to the general.

“What are you investing in?”

“Currency trading, mate,” said Saber. “We have a computer program that does it. A super-secure server. An egghead with magical coding skills created it. We call it GROT, Gets Rich Over Time.” He chuckled. “The program takes advantage of time zones, runs twenty-four hours a day. Like the sheila said, changing in regulations may show a down month. The profits roll into your account. Haven’t lost money yet. The day we do, we cash everyone out, the full amount goes into your Cayman account, and we go program something else.”

“Tell me more,” said the drunken man. Saber said a bunch of things Daisy Chain had told him to say. “So, I can’t lose much?”

“No,” said Wraith. “No more than thirty percent. No use in being stupid.” She waved a warning finger at the general. “That way, even if a month is bad, you’re still good. The thing is, you also get bank interest.”

The general sat up a bit straighter. “I what?”

“This is through the bank. The money is sort of in your account, but not, but is. Kind of a virtual thing. So, you get a little more interest there.”

“Where do I sign?” he asked. Saber handed over a paper and an expensive gold pen. Saber’s fingers and palms were covered by latex, keeping his fingerprints from getting on the papers. The same couldn’t be said for the general.

“Do you want your lawyer to look it over?” asked Wraith. “Make sure you meet privately, no recording devices are involved, and that you invoke attorney-client privilege.”

“No,” he said. “I’ll sign.” He grinned. “Free booze too. One more round?” he said.

“Why not,” said Wraith. She handed over her black card again.

* * *

Back in the car, they took prints from the Cayman Islands bank paperwork, and put them all over the documents, thumbs on top at an angle, fingertips curved underneath. They also had the gold pen with the fingerprints, and carefully lifted the inky signature up with special tape and moved it to another document, a land deed. Saber wrote over it, millimeter by millimeter, with the pen, careful to not smudge the prints with his latexed fingers. They put everything in a brand-new manila envelope from an office supply store, Wraith with leather gloves. They slid in the documents, slid in the pen, sealed it, changed into black clothes and masks, and made their way to the townhome.

They used the security codes Daisy Chain had given them to enter the huge, split-level house. They turned off the security cameras, made a loop for them to see nothing, and eeled up the stairs. They ignored the artwork —violent and disturbing scenes in crimson and blue. Just to get into the safe in the bottom of the closet. Saber used a tool to find the code, using a chemical that lit up the oils from the general’s fingertips on the keypad. He got it open on the third try.

“The last for digits of his father’s social security number,” he said.

“Nice,” said Wraith. “Hurry it up.”

They slid in the envelope, took less than ten thousand dollars out of the hundreds of thousands of dollars in the safe, and locked it back up. Wraith found the server with information from the bedroom cameras, and found a Best Hits —literally, proof he’d beaten his former and current wives, and prostitutes as well. She copied several of the digital files onto a USB, and then slid them into another envelope. She backtracked to the safe and slid them in. She made sure the false wall that hid the server had a tiny flaw that would be seen by a tech on a search of the townhome.

They slipped out past the vaguely disturbing art of a clown in blue and crimson, reset the alarm, and got into their rental car. They were long away before the loop showed a real-time camera picture.

ATF in the form of Saber met with the Army’s Criminal Investigation Division. He had pictures, stills of his ex-wife Janine’s bruises, to show the investigators. Special Agents Bruce Coleman and Willa Pershing looked at the stills.

“She willing to testify?” asked Pershing, a woman with a wide face and brown eyes as sharp as tacks.

“No,” said Saber. “But she mentioned conversations she had overheard.” He played back some of the recorded conversations between Sigrun and Janine. The agents took notes, then nodded as they seemed to have information confirmed.

“We have been… concerned,” said Coleman, a man with a shaved head, thin lips, and piercing blue eyes. “Things that got covered up, shouldn’t have been. The townhome could have been purchased with his salary, and maybe the Staunton place, but it’s iffy. He travels in the course of his work. He teaches at the sniper school in Quantico, and heads over to Arlington, too. He’ll be a hard one to take out.”

“Wait until he’s had a few rounds of golf,” Saber said, dryly. “He likes to drink before, during and after.”

“Good to know,” said Pershing. “Why did you come to us? What set you off?”

“He covered up a group rape of US soldiers on a third soldier behind enemy lines,” he said, sliding over a sticky note with a single military identification number. “And, she’ll testify, but it won’t help you. The rapists are dead. You should be able to find paperwork to show that he covered it up. Guy like that, drinker, he will keep records. May or may not be able to keep it all straight in his head.”

Pershing nodded. “I’ll get a warrant.” She grimaced. “He’s kind of a dick. That, in and of itself, isn’t illegal. But, it’s kept him from moving up. He thinks he’s fantastic, can’t understand why he hit the top deck and can’t move up.”

“Not a people person,” said Saber.

“Not actively incompetent, but, apparently, bad at covering his tracks,” said Coleman. “We’ll get him.”

Saber shook their hands, stood, and left. He met Wraith, now back in her side braids and leathers, in the coffee shop where he’d left her. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Missing home.”

She kissed him and stood to pay the bill. “Me too.”

* * *

Two days later, Saber and Wraith drove to Arlington to visit Danielle Kasamsun, the girl that got away from Saber and died, who’d burned alive in a tank. Saber brought a single white rose. Wraith stood by, watched the grief playing across his face as he laid the rose on her headstone. He reached out, stroked her headstone, then stood, and gave a wild cry. Startled, Wraith stepped toward him.

“She was funny,” he said, tears streaming down her face. “Sly fun, though. A throwaway comment you had to think about before you laughed. I still laugh at some of the things she said.” He gasped, wiped away some of his tears with his thumbs. “Dani wanted everyone to be competent. Would work with someone having trouble until they could do that task in their sleep. Drove everyone nuts, but we all got high marks. Because of her.” He choked, wiped away more tears. “She hated smokers, would rag guys in her unit mercilessly about it. I never started because I knew she’d hate it.” He gasped again. “She would hate it that she died in smoke and fire.” His face twisted. “Burned alive. With three others. Her best mates, she called them. Woulda been glad they were with her, then. Kamasawa, Daran, Etos. Went to every one of the damn funerals. Visited with all of their families, told each one stories that Dani told me. They were all just so… stricken. So devoid of… of hope, I guess.”

“But you’re not,” said Wraith. She handed him a wet wipe. “She the reason you went ATF?”

“Yeah,” he said, and wiped his face. “She always said there needs to be less weaponry in the world.” He laughed. “Hell of a thing for a tank gunner to desire.”

Wraith let him squeeze out more tears before embracing him. “I am really glad she lived, really glad you got to know her.”

“Her family won’t talk to me,” he said. “Bad memories. She has a sister, Paula. The family wouldn’t take money, but I made up some scholarship she had to apply for, and she ‘won’ it. A fake Thai-American foundation. Three other girls applied. The rest of the unit covered them when I ran out of money funding Paula.” He choked. “Every single one of them graduated, with honors. Took two weeks off and went to all of their graduations.”

“That’s awesome,” said Wraith. “Dani’s legacy.”

“Yeah,” he said, balling up the wet wipe and slipping it into his pocket. “It was. Four girls went to college, and I became an ATF agent.” He sighed, looking out over the green, dotted with thousands of white headstones. “Rather have her back, but she’d be proud of the girls.”

“And you,” said Wraith. “And you.”

“I have to do it,” said Saber. “Even though it’s like oil in my head, polluting my life, my thoughts. Those people are so far past horrible they can’t see the line. But, it’s what Dani was fighting for. A world free of assholes like the one we took down today.”

“The military found stuff we didn’t,” she said. “He won’t get out of it.”

Saber grunted. “Guy’s not getting out of Leavenworth alive.” His breathing slowed, losing the sharp pants of grief. Saber held Wraith close, talked into her hair. “I need to catch some more. Not all of them, but some more. Not for Dani, anymore. But for the world. So then, the sad, sick, twisted shit stays out of families like ours.”

Wraith grabbed his hand, then touched her stomach with it. “Families like ours,” she repeated.

He gasped, smiled, then picked her up and twirled her around. “Families like ours.”

Scouting Ahead

Grace moved, using the Empty Step, weight on her back leg. The six-year-old in San Francisco, Yang Mei, did the moves precisely. The camera was set back, so they could see each other’s entire body, on Skype. They finished the Yang Short Form, using the proper breathing. They finished, grinned, and started it again. The form took five minutes, and they had worked their way up from doing each move separately, to doing one, right up to doing three. They did the second one faster, and the third in double time. They bowed to each other. They both sat down again, grinning like loons.

“I like this,” Mei said, in English.

“Yes,” said Grace, in Mandarin. “I am allowed to learn Wing Chung when I have mastered the Long Form.”

“When shall we do the Long Form?” asked Mei, switching to Mandarin.

“We can learn today,” said Grace, keeping herself to Mandarin.

“Let’s,” said Mei, now in English. Grace pulled up the video, split the screen, and started the first move. They did it for ten minutes, then sat down. “How are your sisters?” asked Mei.

Daisy the Dachshund came in and sat down on Grace’s feet with a plop. Grace picked her up and put her on her lap, and then she stroked the velvety ears. The dog sighed with pleasure.

“Cute!” squealed Mei. “Honored Mother says that I may have a cat. I am looking at a Persian with a squat face.

Grace said, “My brother Aiden is louder than my sister, Kiya. Damia’s in the barn every morning, feeding the ponies. Hu and Jie are doing fine.”

“That’s why you’re teaching me,” said Mei. “To learn more Mandarin.”

Grace grimaced. “They speak at three times my speed,” she said, still in Mandarin. “I had no idea Hu had slowed herself down so much to talk to me.”

“Then, we speak faster,” said Mei, speeding up her English.

“Let’s do faster Mandarin,” said Grace. She readied her clicker.

Bao had found a way to code a clicking device while listening and speaking. One click was for when Grace heard a word from Mei that she didn’t understand. Two clicks were when she couldn’t remember the Mandarin word she needed. They showed up as blue and red lines on the playback. Mei did the same thing on her end.

“Ready… and go.”

Mei talked about her mother, a server in a restaurant studying to be a physical therapist. Grace talked about her brother and sister, the babies working toward standing up. She tried not to get frustrated at the number of times she clicked. The buzzer buzzed, and then they said goodbye, and bowed. Grace cut the call, then spent ten minutes typing out all the words she’d missed or didn’t understand in both English and Mandarin, with a special overlay on her keyboard.

She got up, stretched, used the restroom, grabbed her sunglasses, and ran out to the barn along the trail. The day was hot, the sun white-hot, casting sharp shadows. Damia was cleaning a saddle in the tack room. Grace said hello, then went to a bridle. She got out the box with a jar of water, a sponge, three dry cloths, a big towel, the metal polish, and the leather cleaner, conditioner, and oil. She put down a towel, then took the bridle apart, checked it carefully for ripped seams or damage first, then wiped it all down with the sponge dipped in a little of the water. It was folded in half, so she could draw the leather pieces through the sponge folded in her hand.

She put the bit in the water. She then dried the bridle, then rubbed in the leather cleaner, then conditioner, and oil last. She finished with the metal polish on the bit and all the metal studs and buckles. She got the girth, dirty from being around the horse’s belly, and cleaned it with more water. She then used the leather cleaner and conditioner on it, and then cleaned the metal parts.

“Movie night, tonight,” said Damia.

“Yeah,” said Grace. “The Parent Trap. Kinda good. Prefer some Star Wars, though.”

“Let’s negotiate,” said Damia. “Two Star Trek episodes.”

“The old one, The Next Generation, or Deep Space Nine?”

“One of each,” said Damia.

“Agreed,” said Grace. “Hu and Jie are off making sleeping pods with Ace, using Mom’s design.” Callie, her mom, had created the design, used in Grace’s own room. The two other pods were sometimes filled with Hu and Jie, sometimes not. Damia slept in a little apartment directly above the tack room. It got lonely some nights, but Grace knew she deserved it. She’d been a controlling monster, and she had to learn to do things on her own.

“Help me,” said Damia. “Please.”

Grace stood and helped her put the saddle back where it belonged, on its saddle “horse,” or shelf. Grace remembered what Henry had said about encouraging Damia to ask for help as she slid the saddle into place.

“It’s good to help you,” she said.

“Let’s get the blankets out of the wash,” said Damia. They took out the horse blankets, meant to go under the saddles, out of the dryer. They put them in the tack room, folded them, and put them on their shelves. They then put the bridle back together and put the girth away. They bumped fists. “See you at lunch,” said Damia.

“See ya,” said Grace.

Grace circled to the back of the barn. The heat hit her like a hammer. She found Robert around the corner, painting a Harley gas tank in the cool shade of his outer shop. “Hello,” he said in Zuni.

“The day is hot,” said Grace, in Zuni. She stretched, took a cloth, and took the chrome cleaner out.

Robert laughed. “They’re all hot in a Vegas summer.” He turned on the second fan, and they worked. “Have I told you about Hoya the Hummingbird?”

“No,” said Grace. “I would like to hear.” Robert had asked her to come over, as his jewelry maker girlfriend (Triesta) was visiting the Zuni res.

Cleaning chrome was relaxing to Grace, a time to let her mind focus on Robert’s voice. Her Zuni wasn’t too bad, and she only had to ask for an English translation six times. She worked on the red bike, completed the night before. Robert painted in black, white, and yellow, making a bold design, as he told the story.

An Uber car came up the drive, and Robert carefully finished his line. Grace stood, stretched, and peeked out. Henry came out of the house, and talked to the woman, wearing black motorcycle boots, black leather pants, a royal blue top, and a vented, summer-weight jacket over her shoulder. Her skin was a deep reddish brown in the sun, and she had an aquiline nose, blue-black hair braided on one side, and eyes like shiny black stones, that glinting in the sun. Henry pointed to Robert’s covered, screened porch, which was covered to keep out the dust as he painted. Robert rolled up the screen, and the woman walked toward them.

Grace gave a last polish to the mirrors, then stepped back. The woman entered, and said, “Yah-ah-tay,” the Navaho greeting.

“Yah-ah-tay,” said Grace. “But, Robert is Zuni and Apache.”

“And your nation?” asked the woman.

“My grandfather is Southern Paiute,” said Grace.

“I am Doba,” she said.

“I am Robert, and this is Grace,” said Robert. He put his paintbrush down and wiped his hands. “This is…”

“Mine,” said Doba, walking toward her midnight-blue, glittery Harley Sportster. She walked around it, stalking it like a puma. Grace stepped back, and then put away the polish and threw the rag in the dirty-rag plastic crate. Doba circled the bike twice, then sat down on it. Robert handed her the key. She walked the bike out, turned it toward the road, and started it up. It started with a purr. She grinned and rode off.

Grace said, “Did you get paid?”

“In bitcoin, last night, when I sent her the photo,” said Robert.

“What’s bitcoin?” asked Grace.

“Online currency. Money that only exists online. That’s the future. Eventually, paper money and coins are going away.” He folded down the enclosure and went back to his painting. “Go on in and help set the table for lunch, but wash up first,” he said. “I’ll be in as soon as I finish this design.”

“Okay,” said Grace. She ran in, delighted to be out of the heat.

She set up the high chairs, first for three of the babies, Kiya, Aiden, and her cousin Ryder. Her brand-new cousin, Tarak, slept in a carrier or was in a pouch on someone’s stomach most of the time. Bess, the corgi, positioned herself under Aiden’s high chair, a wise move, as the boy liked to fling peas across the room. Then, she put down the woven placemats, dyed pale blue, on the table, then the cloth napkins in a darker blue, then the silverware. Then, she put out three serving spoons and salad tongs, and several salad dressings to cater for everyone.

Vi finished lunch in the kitchen with Sofia, her kitchen helper. Sofia was halfway through her culinary degree. Her salads now included local greens and nuts, and her dressings included things like stone-ground mustard. Sofia loved Mama’s rock, so all three of them danced to Meat Loaf’s “I Would Do Anything for Love.”

Next, Mom came in with Aiden, and then Mama with Kiya, and got them in their chairs. Mama danced with Mom, making everyone laugh, including the babies. Grace helped to bring in the salad, a bowl of smoked chicken salad with grapes and almonds, stone ground mustard, whole grain bread on a cutting board with a bread knife, olive tapenade in a jar, a bowl of blackberries, and lettuce and tomato for the sandwiches. Bella came down with Tarak, and Inola came down with Ryder. David and Henry came in from outside, Robert just behind them. They all sat down at the table. David sang, and then they began passing the food.

Grace told Mom about Damia’s agreement about Movie Night. “I’ll come over for that,” said Henry, inviting himself over.

David grinned. “My science fiction man.”

Henry pretended to shoot him with a phaser, and David pretended to slowly topple over. The babies thought this was hilarious, and they let out with belly laughs. Even Tarak smiled. They talked about the farm, the new pony who was slowly recovering from abuse, his coat getting shiny, and Game Night, set for the following evening. Grace helped everyone clean up, and then went back to her room for a nap.

When she woke up, groggy, she stumbled downstairs. She put lime juice and a handful each of ice and frozen strawberries into the little blender, then put a bendy straw in her strawberry juice. She put on earphones and got busy listening to Will Smith, getting jiggy with it. She danced as she did her two, fifteen-minute chores, her cleaning the bathroom and vacuuming the living room.

Then, Grace sat on the floor with the babies, and rolled the ball to Aiden as Mom took Kiya for a change of clothes. Aiden screamed with laughter when Grace pretended to fall over when Aiden rolled the ball back to her and hit her in the foot. Mama came in with Damia, and they started making dinner.

The smell of jerked chicken wafted into the living room, making Grace super-hungry. She tired of the ball, and then gave Aiden a drum that lit up when he hit it. He banged on it.

“That’s my boy!” said Mama. “Drummer for sure!”

Damia set the table and put out the tortillas and mango salsa. Damia then helped Mom make fresh guacamole, and Mama came back down. Grace helped put Aiden in his high chair, and Damia fed one baby, while Grace took the other, leaning back so as to not get carrot chunks, peas, or oat circles in their hair, or on their clothes. They sat down, and Grace sung the song David had taught her. They made the tacos and chatted about which games to do for Game Night.

Mama and Mom went upstairs so Mama could sing the babies to sleep. They did so while Damia and Grace put everything away, and then worked to fill up and run the dishwasher. Damia and Grace ran upstairs, and they then put on their Star Trek uniforms. Grace dressed as a Bajoran, complete with the earring, and Damia came down in the blue of a Medical character.

Henry came over with the popcorn for the popcorn maker, resplendent in his red uniform of Command. David kept to his jeans and a soft blue shirt that said, “My other vehicle is a spaceship.” They set up the popcorn and toppings for later, and they made fizzy water from lime juice and carbonated water. Damia had watermelon and water.

They sat down, and put in the first show, Deep Space 9. They cracked jokes and talked about silly things from time to time. Mama and Mom came back down and sat down to watch. After the second show, they were ready for the popcorn. Damia liked hers with tiny M&Ms. Mama and Mom loved butter, salt, and peanut butter M&Ms on theirs. Henry and David kept themselves to butter and salt. Grace loved caramel corn, but she mixed in a few caramel-flavored, chocolate-coated, Milk Duds, instead. After the shows, they played a short Trek game, and then the grandfathers held Grace close, and touched Damia’s hair, which was all the touching she allowed. Damia was exhausted, and went with them on the walk home, talking about an early morning.

Grace looked at Mom and Mama. “I know I pushed everyone away. I was a dick, as Alo says.” Mama laughed. Mom just stared. “I get lonely,” she said.

“Other little girls love having a room all to themselves,” said Mama.

“She’s missing her sisters,” said Mom.

“I hate to point this out, but you did this to yourself,” said Mama. “You’re doing much better. It seems like you need to do some stuff, the stuff only you like to do. Paint, write a short story…”

“Puzzle?” asked Grace.

“Yes,” said Mama. “Mom is probably tired, so she’ll probably go up before us.”

“In a little while,” said Mom.

They rolled out the puzzle, one with a million cats, and began putting it together. Grace found her eyes closing, even more than Mom’s. Mom took her hand while Mama rolled up the puzzle and put it away. They went upstairs, and they both took showers. Mom came in, her own hair braided, and braided Grace’s hair while Grace read her a story about a half-human, half-alien girl who could move things with her brain. Grace slipped into her pod, and Mom kissed her cheek and shut the door. Grace tried to read, but she slid into sleep. The day had been long.

* * *

Henry, David, Bella, and an exhausted Inola, all sat on the couch and the chairs in the living room, sipping tea or decaf coffee. “We’ve got to go,” said Henry. “For two weeks, or maybe more.”

Bella shot him a shocked glance. Inola stared at him, glassy-eyed. “You what?”

“Several people with ranches want to do what we do. Different focuses on different ranches. The Zuni have already implemented a program for young artists, but they have not invited youth from other Nations. The Dine have youth weavers and shepherds. The Hopi have desert tour guide training, for youth. The idea is to implement our program so the students in danger of not graduating from high school can graduate.”

“Our list of students that want to come is getting longer, not shorter,” observed David. “Others want to know what we do and how we do it. Duplication is better than an endless list,” he observed.

“We wrote a handbook,” said Henry. “But, there are deer hunters, canoe and hiking specialists, and horse riders in Wyoming, animal husbandry experts in Idaho and Montana, and much more. Setting up a ranch like this can’t be shoehorned, but must be developed naturally, and connections made within and in between Nations.” Henry took another sip of his decaf coffee. “The students come up with things to expand, like Alo’s animal feed business based on Nantan’s greenhouse products. The pursuit of money to keep something like this going is endless. It starts with places for them to stay, then tablet computers. Wireless just doesn’t work in many places. Satellites do, but that costs money. Then jobs for them to earn their room and board, along with learning new skills. We’re close to Vegas, with houses to build and clean, babies to watch, and the like. But, many reservations are in very remote regions, with far too much land and people. Additionally, with far too little money to buy products or services. Online sales help artists, and Alo sends his feed all over, but there’s no such thing as virtually cleaning houses or watching babies from afar.”

“Wish that worked,” said Inola. “Two babies. A quarter of the sleep.”

“Nantan, Chayton and the boys are going to help you while we’re gone,” said David. “And, the Wolfpack will help with the ranch, keep it clean.”

“Good,” said Bella. “I want to head back to work and I can’t if we don’t get help. Only three nights a week, and I’ll open and leave early.”

“Wait two weeks,” Henry suggested. “We’ll be gone two to three weeks.”

“You just want to get out of the Vegas heat,” joked Bella.

David laughed. “That too.”

“Do you really think you can get Wolfpacks all over?” asked Inola.

“We think so,” said Henry. “The problem is the funding. Bao is donating money, and so is High Desert Security.”

“But it’s not enough,” said David. “We have an online funding page. The Wolfpack set it up.”

“We could do a ride,” said Inola.

“When we get back,” said Henry. “For now, we’ll head out.”

“Wait, who’s teaching at your school?” asked Bella.

Henry laughed. “Gregory, and two of his soldiers,” said Henry. “All have been through the class, and Bonnie is getting her Soldier Pack to help, too.”

“This is important,” said David. “The res is doing much better, too. Like ripples in a pond, the business the Wolfpack does has rippled out. There are more new businesses. Numa is selling angora sweaters from our own rabbits, and literally can’t keep them in stock. Richard Running Deer on the res, he specializes in plant dyes, and he and his daughter are making enough to live on because Numa buys his dyes. The Goat Girls are selling their goat cheese, the harnesses for the dog boxes that go on the back of Harleys, and Ghost and Killa have farmed the boxes off on the Soldier Pack.”

Henry sipped more decaf coffee. “The Soldier Pack is an outgrowth of the Texas program, and is like the Wolfpack. We’ve had twenty-two of them go on to get various jobs, some with motorcycles, some without. We’ll double that number every two months, from now. The Soldier Pack can be implemented on the res as well. People can buy junked bikes, refurbish, and sell them. All they need is tools and a garage, and trainers like Bonnie to train them.”

“Men with a purpose,” said Inola. “When are you leaving?”

“We were going to go next week,” said Henry. “But, we’ve had a tablet manufacturer contact us, and they’ll donate five for every twenty we buy. They’ll ship them anywhere.”

“And we’ve got a rancher ready to donate two outbuildings. One as a dorm, and one that can be split up into various rooms like classrooms and craft rooms. We want to get there and take custody of the buildings, so to speak,” said David.

“So, you got excited,” said Bella. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” said David.

“Don’t wake me up,” said Inola. “Tarak and Ryder will wake us up at dawn, anyway. And, knowing you two, you’ll be out before dawn.” She stood, hugged both men and kissed them on the cheek. “Goodnight, and the best of luck.” She lurched toward the stairs.

“Sorry about that,” said Bella. “She’s in baby shock. Tarak is a happy baby, but he’s up all damn night.” She sighed and stretched. “And she’s not breastfeeding, I am. But, the babies wake each other up, and Ryder no longer likes naps. Have to make her lie down, and then sing to her to get her to nod off.”

“I hate leaving the grandkids,” said David. “But, the donations are coming together, and we’ve got to grab what we’ve been offered.”

“Sure,” said Bella. She hugged and kissed them both, then knocked back her tea. “Please clean up. I’m almost as tired as my wife.” She headed for the stairs. “And get a damn elevator,” she said, over her shoulder. Henry and David laughed.

* * *

The men cleaned up the mugs, packed, and went to bed. In the morning, they were off to Montana. They took three days, stopping off at truck stops, pancake houses, and red-roofed motels along the way. It was stunning going, through mountains that smelled of pine and rainwater, with picturesque streams winding down mountain slopes, and beautiful creosote and mountain flowers everywhere.

In Montana, a rancher who was half Crow with a Crow wife had a ranch situated like Henry’s ranch, with its back corner touching res land. The large res was over three and half thousand acres, but a road from the reservation wound its way past that corner. Fala Red Fox showed them the property. She was a tall woman, with her long hair flowing behind her. She was dressed in jeans, chaps, cowboy boots, and a red checkered shirt. She had a wide face and kind eyes.

“If it helps our people, you can have them.” The outbuildings were a barn, even larger than Henry’s horse barn, made out of strong, old wood. Even with years of wind, and rain and snow, it stood. The second one was a building, kind of like a second barn, previously used to store hay, feed, tack, and the like. The animals were in several brand-new barns. You could milk cows in one, horses in another.

“We’ll take them,” said Henry. “The students can clean them out. We’ll bring the pods up.”

“Pods?” asked Fala.

“Like bunk beds, only boxes,” said David. “Open on the sides, with a light, and a space to sit up. Good for having your own space even if you have other people in the room. Desks, storage, or a couch goes underneath. Gives more space in tight spaces. One end is a shelf, the other a chest of drawers.”

“If they could make those, maybe they can sell them in the cities,” said Fala.

“Crow are wonderful with beadwork,” said David. “I learned from a Crow man when I was a boy.”

“We’ve lost a lot, but we kept that,” said Fala. “We’ll need help with the milking and horses, pay the young ones some,” she said. “Be cheaper than hiring hands. Lots to do; tack cleaning and repair, right through the entire winter. You can get one of those hydroponic beds going, we’d be happy to get fresh vegetables and fruits. Long winter here.”

Danny Sitting Bear came riding up from the res on his gorgeous dun horse. He looked like a bear himself, big and compact, with black hair. It was long under his large Stetson. “Got six already signed up,” he said. “They’ll be sleeping in the barn until we get their quarters running. Billy Red Horse and my wife Gina have a construction business. They get this place done at night and on weekends ‘till it’s done.”

“We’ll train ‘em up to be ranch hands, fishing and hunting guides,” said Fala. “Beadwork in the winter, leatherwork, like making tack, too.”

“Photography guides would be good,” suggested David. “You’ve got your birdwatchers, environmentalists, and just plain photographers, and the most beautiful vistas in the country. And trackers to find wildlife for photography, not hunting.”

“Better than the hunters,” agreed Fala. “Those idiots will shoot anything, in season, out of season, licensed or not. Including people.”

“Drop beer cans everywhere like this is their own private dumping ground,” agreed Danny. “Photographers, you say? Be better. We know all the best spots. Combine hiking and photography tours. Be good for the area.”

“Have stops for the bikers, too,” said Henry. “A lot of them are hikers as well. Love the outdoors.”

“Hear you’re gonna put a satellite on my roof,” said Fala. “You do that, I’ll pay half, since we’re gonna use it too.” Henry held out a hand, and they shook on it.

Arena

Bonnie had Nantan’s boys (Josh and Nick) record a video. Josh was in with Killa and Ghost, recording how to unpack and put together a Harley trike. Nick was with Bonnie and Tori. Bonnie showed the six members of the Harley class the parts of their Harleys, and then walked them back to watch Tori unbox a Harley Fat Boy. They recorded as well, holding up cell phones as Bonnie quickly and efficiently laid out the parts on a table. The engine was already on the mount, ready to go. They also got to see Tori’s pride and joy, a mangled off-road Harley Tori was taking apart to rebuild.

Gregory came to take them to the E and E class to learn how to evade hazards like children leaping into the streets, or a piece of furniture falling out of a truck in front of them, as well as actual shooters. They were all Valkyries from a club in Oregon, well used to wet streets and falling trees. They wanted to get to the good stuff; how to evade and shoot while on a bike.

They ran the gamut from a tiny Asian woman to a tall Hispanic woman with enormous shoulders and back muscles. Gregory knew them as Gondol, Hlokk, Hildr, Skogul, and Skalmold. He felt infinitely lucky to have been around Sigrun, Wraith, Skuld, and the rest. Their fierce eyes and their bloodthirsty desires didn’t derail him. He simply moved through the less-necessary information as quickly as possible, so as to show them the best ways to evade bullets while on a Harley.

Well before he usually did the back-lot part, they were ready. He called in his people with their laser pointers early, and made sure everyone was well hydrated, and ran them through the main scenarios and his two backup scenarios. His people got one hell of a workout. Each woman eventually got to shoot at targets while on a Harley, something he’d only put together for the most advanced training.

They had enough pulled pork sandwiches, sodas, waters, and chips to feed an army. They mowed them all down, nodded politely, paid the remainder, and then they went out to do desert training. They ran him so ragged he felt as if he’d trained a platoon. Each woman bought her off-road bike, and he was very glad he had six ex-soldiers who could get away for a weekend road trip to drop them off. They’d fly back.

He took them out for a treat to the jousting at Excalibur, and spoke to the manager, someone with a daughter protected by High Desert Security. Turned out her father was an ex-agent with ancient enemies from his time working in the casinos in New Jersey. The local Valkyries showed up, they dressed and armored up, and put on a show for the crowd. The crowd loved it, cheering and even betting on them. The locals gave as good as the Spokane natives, and eventually they were all back in their more normal leathers, knocking back one in the bar, just for the road. They talked for an hour and a half until the drink wore off, then their new bikes met them, and they headed off into the night. Herja and Rota lead the way out of town, then circled back toward home.

Gregory made it home, barely able to unlock the door because he was so tired. His wife, Katya, met him at the door. He received a kiss, she took his jacket, he kicked off his shoes, and he held his son Ivan while she held Luka. He sat, and was rewarded with his other son. They babbled at him, and he listened carefully, asking questions about their day. He kissed their heads, and carried them upstairs, making bear noises, making them giggle.

He put them on the bedroom floor as he stripped off his suit pants and hung them up, undid his cufflinks, and took off his white shirt, now stained with baby spittle. He threw the shirt into the laundry hamper. He put on shorts, and made more bear noises as he took the babies to the bath. They laughed. Both boys loved being naked and loved attacking each other with toy ships, whales, and ducks. He let them splash each other unmercifully as he washed them, from their hair to their cute little toes.

He then laid out their towel covers, a yellow duck for Luka, a brown bear for Ivan. Ivan was out first, and his brother joined him in screaming as if he was being murdered. He got them both out and dried, put on their pajamas, dried their tears, and took them to hear a story about a brown bear cub. One who could climb trees faster than his brother. He sang to them, and Katya joined them for a kiss. They were so sleepy they cried for only five minutes before falling asleep.

Katya led him to the bedroom. “Where are Mimi and her little sprite?” Gregory asked.

“They are at Henry’s house. He went to Montana with David to scout out sites for an expanded Wolfpack, into other Nations.”

“And they’re there too…” He wandered toward the shower, hardly necessary as the boys had thoroughly splashed him.

“Mimi and Ree will help with the babies and cleaning the house. April is moving in too, to help. Vi is in the kitchen, so no worries there. Vi will take the downstairs and the girls the upstairs and babies.”

Gregory watched his wife undress. Even being dead on his feet, he felt something move deep inside him. “Ree won’t be much help. She’s not yet three.”

Katya mock-glared at him. “Why are you so tired?”

“Valkyries,” said Gregory. “They were my class. I ended up doing emails at lunch, and snuck out for a conference call at dinner, and two more during the clients’ show. Got three new clients lined up, though. Not that I know what to do with them. Wraith came back, and it’s running great, but I want to spend more time here, with you. Henry leaving town threw a wrench in that.”

“Make your soldiers do more,” said Katya. “Train them to do client meetings, discuss contracts on the phone. They are all well-educated, no?” She smiled up at her husband. She took off her last sock, enjoying the look on his face as he saw her nude body.

“Yes, they are,” he said. “Two have degrees in business. I’ve got them sorting through new hires and reviewing contracts, but having them do more day-to-day stuff is a great idea. Thank you, my lovely.” He gave her a deep kiss.

He led her to the shower. He set it on just below lobster, and let the jets pound out his exhaustion as he washed his wife from head to toe. He left in the conditioner as he scrubbed her back. She scrubbed him as well as he washed and rinsed out his own hair. She smiled as she rinsed out her own hair, and left him in the shower as he let the jets pound on him some more. She dried her hair and body and then put on lotion and a silk robe. He got out, dried himself, put on his own lotion and a robe.

He combed and dried his wife’s hair, and took her into the bedroom. She laid down beaming a smile, and he took his sweet time, kissing her forehead, her eyes, and her nose, all the way down. He was careful with the other couples’ baby she carried for them. She was so beautiful when pregnant; radiant, in fact. He knew they didn’t need more just quite yet, because Ivan and Luka were a handful. He was happy she’d have the baby soon. She was lovely, and quite interested in sex, but she was also tired at night. So am I, he thought. Maybe even too tired to finish this.

But despite his exhaustion, he made her come and come again, then slipped in from behind. She moved against him, slowly, then harder and harder. She came in a rush, and he followed her. He managed to find the wet wipes, wiped them both off, went to the bathroom with the wipes, and got himself ready for bed. He came back out, put on his night shorts, and helped his wife into her nightclothes. He nearly fell into the bed, and crawled under the sheets. Morning would come, and smash him into the ground again.

He was awakened by his wife pulling on his ear with her teeth. He grinned, and stroked her until she screamed silently into his mouth. He made her come, twice, and then took her from behind once again, stroking her breasts until she crushed herself against him. He came, cleaned them both up, and then dressed in his work clothes.

Luka and Ivan were up, and he took them up and fed them round cereal and fruit they ate with their fists. Katya came down, and he kissed her and the boys’ heads and went back to teach more at Henry’s school. Luckily, they were riders from all over. They were from Idaho and California, Louisiana and Texas, Colorado and New Mexico. He took them through a normal class, fed them barbecue, and got them off early because they all wanted to ride home; three bought their off-road bikes, and he found soldiers to follow them home with their new off-road Harleys.

He made it home in time for stew and dumplings, and his wife’s laughter. It was like a balm after the last two days. The boys told him about their day, and he helped them with their baths and listened to their happy screams and splashing. Bedtime was a bear, as Ivan did not want to go down, and kept his brother awake while he was at it. Gregory took Ivan out until Luka slept, and told him a story about a prince who turned into a bear and back again. Soon, Ivan slept, and Gregory slipped his sleeping son into the bed. He went back downstairs, to their kitchen where no mess was allowed for long. He put away the dishes from the dishwasher, and took up a bottled cherry water and a tea for his wife. He found her in bed, reading, with her hair curling from the shower. He took his own shower, and quickly got himself into bed.

She held him. “I know you are tired, love. Put your head down and rest.” She stroked his hair, and soon he slid into sleep, once again.

* * *

The melamine arrived, and Ace, Lily, and Callie took Ace’s band saw to the corner near Robert to measure (twice), then they cut, drilled, and labeled the pieces for the bed. They worked under a tent, and had drinks at the ready. Ace measured, Callie cut, and Lily drilled the holes.

“Colorful,” observed Ace.

“Chinese red, cobalt blue, gold, silver, copper, pine green,” said Callie. “With matching bedding. Keeps everyone’s stuff straight.”

“Hmm,” added Ace.

“Labeling is key,” said Callie, “and lining up everything plumb. The shelves, the fold-down desk, the light.”

“Sure glad the donations are coming in,” said Lily. “This is the first disbursement. Remember, we have to take pictures.”

“Will do, boss,” said Robert, from inside his porch. He was installing the fenders and gas tank he had painted the day before with black, red, and yellow Zuni designs on a custom off-road Harley. “Have cell phone, will take shots.” He took a picture of each person with the plastic pieces that looked like boards, Ace with his tape measure and grease pencil, Callie at the band saw, and Lily lining up the holes with a level.

“How are you going to get this stuff all there?” asked Ace.

“Truck,” offered Callie, unhelpfully.

Lily laughed. “Got someone on our res, wants to do business on their res. They offered to drive the rental truck to Montana. Says it’s a sweet ride to there.”

“Bouncing around in a rental truck is not my idea of a ‘sweet ride,’” said Callie.

“He’s also bringing his off-road Harley with him,” said Lily.

“Sweet,” said Callie. “Bet it’s Carl Running Deer. Man won’t stop talking about the off-road bike he bought from Robert here.”

“Can barely keep up,” said Robert. “Gonna have to import me another Soldier Pack member.” He grinned. “And now that Triesta’s bunking with me, I got a room for that person.”

“Sweet,” said Lily. “Speaking of keeping up, Ace, didn’t you all hire a new bar back?”

“Rose,” said Ace. “Purple hair and a nose ring. Loves it. Ivy takes over for her sometimes so she can dance. I think she’d pay us to work there.”

“Um, where is this going?” asked Callie. “Oh,” she said. “Bella.”

“What about Bella?” asked Ace, stopping his measuring. “She okay? We can delay her return as long as she likes. Rose wants all the hours we can give her to work.”

“She’s fine,” said Lily.

“Failure to launch,” said Callie. “Not helped by not having her own space, out of the main house, to work. Thinking about asking Numa about that, let her hang out in the office of her shop.”

“What? You mean her book cover business?” asked Ace, resuming his measuring.

“Exactly. She’s so… hyper-realistic. Bao helped her find a program to make her still shots move, you know, GIFs. Flames shooting out of mage’s hands and stuff,” said Callie.

“She’s making money. Not as much as bar backing, because the tips and pay brings in some fine cash, but she’s not hurting, and she needs time to build her business, to get and keep clients,” said Lily.

“And raise awesome babies,” said Callie.

“She says she wants three days a week,” said Ace, confused. “I thought she wanted to come back.”

“She does,” said Callie.

“Absolutely,” said Lily.

“But she doesn’t want to let you down,” said Callie.

Ace stared at both of the women. “She… oh.”

“The light dawns,” said Callie. Both women laughed.

“I’ll talk to her,” said Ace.

“I had the same trouble, quitting to work at home,” said Lily.

“But you still do the books,” said Ace.

“Yes, and I hired the best damn partner ever. Jaci. Took her on as a part-timer, and now she’s a full partner,” said Lily. “Brings in business, handles bookings, and even covers our current clients. And, now I have even more time with the babies because Ivy is sharp, and I’m just checking her work over. It’s the same for most of the Nighthawks’ and Soldier Pack businesses. Wraith has got High Desert Security and Protection so in line that I barely have to glance at the books now. And, we have not one, but two receptionists, two women; job-sharing. They both have full medical and dental, too, and act as personal assistants, one for me, one for Jaci. Damn fine situation,” said Lily.

“And you couldn’t have done all that working for me and Ivy, coming in every night, running shifts yourself,” said Ace. “I get it now. I’ll can her ass if I have to.”

Callie laughed, and cut another piece. “Nope, you’ll come with us after we load the truck and talk to her, after I text Numa to get her some space there to do her work.”

“Do that now,” said Ace. “We’ll get her taken care of.”

Callie sent the text, and Numa replied, Of course. She can have the table in the stockroom. Can’t keep much stock in there, these days. Ship out things, as well as sell them here.

They worked in the morning air, the sun like a white-hot hammer, the dust a beautiful red at their feet. They stopped to drink every fifteen minutes. Carl Running Deer came up in the rental truck, his bike already lashed on it, on a special block deep inside. They finished all the labeling together, and then they made a line to stack up the beds in the truck.

Carl Running Deer joined them for lunch, along with Mimi, Ree, April, Robert, and Damia, who joined them as well. They had stacked, smoked, mesquite chicken. With that they enjoyed turkey, bacon, tomatoes, lettuce, and thin slices of cheddar on wheat bread, which was toasted, with potato wedges. Vi also made cherry lemonade. They fell on the food like wolves, and talked about the project to send the pods to Montana for the kids there, and the foundation to pay for it all. They sent Carl off with a wave, and an envelope with his hotel, gas, and food money. He tipped his hat, and was on his way.

Cornering Bella involved trapping her in the corner of the living room where she dusted the furniture, with Tarak strapped to her middle. “What is it? Am I in trouble?” she asked.

“Of course not,” said Lily. “Let’s sit down with some more lemonade.”

“What is it?” asked Bella, as she sat. Ace went for another pitcher of the lemonade and glasses.

“Failure to launch,” said Callie. “Numa is giving you the stockroom for you to do your book covers.”

“And, you’ll make enough to cover everything,” said Lily. “And, you gave birth at home, so no huge hospital bills there.”

Ace came in with a tray. He deftly poured the lemonade and handed out the glasses. “And, we have a new bar back. You; love, are meant for better things. And, now you’re a mom, and working near here gives you more time with your little ones. And, no more crazy schedules.”

Bella turned pale, then red. “You guys are trying to manage me! I can make my own f—fr—freaking decisions!”

“Of course you can,” said Lily. “But, I wish I’d made the jump sooner to work at home,” she said. “My business is taking off, and without the overhead of an office. Everyone who works for me works from their homes, too.”

“What about you, Ace?” asked Bella, now with tears in her eyes. “You have kids at home, too. You want to quit your job?”

“I could,” he said. “But, I’m a partner in a business. You have a business you can grow, make flourish. Work a day or two a week, work our busiest nights, bring in cash. But, give yourself time to do what you love.”

“I love the bar,” said Bella, wiping her eyes.

“You’re not expendable,” said Callie, reading the situation correctly. “You’re just worth more. A lot more.”

“I was a cocktail server,” said Lily, gently. “I’d rather the young girls come in, shake their tails, use their tips to pay off their bills, get ahead. That’s for a younger crowd. I’d be taking their space.”

Bella drew in a breath. “Oh. I’m a mom and all, an adult.” She turned laser eyes on Ace. “And you?”

“I am cutting back to three days a week,” said Ace. “My wife shouldn’t do all of the heavy lifting.” He grinned at Lily, and she took his hand.

“And, he doesn’t close much anymore,” said Lily, grinning as Ace kissed her hand. “Neither does Ivy. She’s got kids coming out her ears, and the late nights aren’t good for her, either.”

“You guys are so fri—fricking logical,” said Bella. She sipped her lemonade, and dashed away tears. “But you’re asking me to give up my life.”

“No, baby,” said Inola, coming into the room, Ryder in her arms. She put down their daughter. “We’re offering you a new one, a better one.”

“Mommy!” yelled Ryder, and ran to Bella. Bella picked her up and put her on her lap. Ryder kissed her mother, and stroked Tarak’s head.

“Fu—frick you all,” said Bella, wiping away tears. “I accept.”

* * *

Ace and Lily went out, hand in hand, to their bikes. “You’re going to make me quit all the late nights, aren’t you?” asked Ace.

“Yes,” said Lily, taking his hands. “You’ve got an excellent crew.”

“We do,” said Ace. “Can we ditch our twenty-seven children?”

“Why, Mr. Dolan,” said Lily, “are you propositioning me?”

Ace grinned, and kissed her. “I have it on good authority that Robert moved into Triesta’s room. Want to crash it?”

Lily’s eyes grew wide. “Why, Mr. Dolan!” she said, grinning. “Robert will know.”

“I happen to know that there is a washer and dryer stacked up in the tack room. We can throw the sheets in there when we’re done.”

Robert came out, walked past them. “Gotta pick up a part,” he said, took out his helmet, and mounted his Harley. He took off in a cloud of dust.

Lily’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Let’s go,” she said, and dragged him toward the stairs. They ran up, giggling like children. Triesta’s room had jewelry all over the walls, and a Harley drawing on the wall. There was ingenious under-and over-bed storage. They shut that door, and turned to the one across the hall. They slipped in, and found the bed made with soft, blue, cotton sheets. Ace locked the door.

Ace twirled Lily around, and caught her up against the door. She squealed with surprise. “Now, madam,” he said, grinning lasciviously at her. “What shall we do with our time?”

“Who are you calling a madam?” she asked, then she found her head caught in-between his hands.

“I love you more than all the breaths I take,” said Ace. “I can’t breathe without you.” He kissed her, crushing his mouth to hers.

He licked her lips, tasting cherry and lemon. She opened her mouth for him, and drew him to her. She pulled off her blue T-shirt that said Accountants Rock, taking it off and over her head, interrupting the kiss. He resumed it, feeling for the front bra clasp. Her breasts fell out of her blue lace bra and into his hands. He kissed them and sucked them, as she pulled his T-shirt off. She rolled it up and threw it on the end of the bed. He resumed, sucking her.

She fumbled with his jeans, getting open the button and unzipping him, then pulling off her own jeans and tossing them onto the bed. She let herself scream and moan when Ace stroked and sucked her breasts. Luckily for them, Damia was long gone, to see her mothers at the other house. She heard horses and ponies stamp and chuff below her. She let out a long groan as he pulled off her panties, and then he breathed out, wanting her, as he kicked off his own jeans and boxers.

Ace picked her up, and Lily clamped her legs around him. He slid into her, and cradled her head with his hand so she wouldn’t smash her head into the door as he thrust into her, again and again. She bit his neck, his ear, causing him to groan. He came in a great whoosh, groaning with need. She nibbled at his neck, then cried out as she came, clamping onto him like wildfire. He held her, waiting on her aftershocks, and was rewarded with a large one, clenching on him. He slid her up and off of him.

They found soap, shampoo, and towels in the little bathroom with a shower. They took a shower, and reveled in the water, now taking away their dust and sweat, one after the other, as the shower was barely large enough to stand up in. They dressed, and he towel-dried and braided her wet hair, putting it in place with a rubber band he had in his pocket. They dressed, put the towels in the washer, and went giggling out to their Harleys, as they had never mussed the sheets. Ace headed to the bar to discuss his fewer hours with Ivy, and Lily headed home to check the accounting.

Both of them grinned for hours as they relived their stolen moments. Ace planned more time with his family, and Lily plotted on how to shift more work to her partner. And, deep in the night, after the babies (Rose Ivy and Colin) were asleep and dreaming of toys and time with their parents, they found time for more stolen moments.

“You can do bad things for a certain length of time. Your victims may seem weak at first… but they eventually strike back.”