If any other woman asked to meet my family or talked about making babies before I’d even felt her up, I’d leave skid marks in my rush to escape. Yarrow is like no other woman, so I don’t ditch her at Denny’s but take her along on my visit to the trailer park.

The rain lets up by the time we arrive at the park where many of the local hookers live and work. I lead Yarrow along the mud-covered paths until we reach Alma’s trailer where one of her customers exits. I ignore the guy until I catch him checking out Yarrow.

Grabbing his jacket, I yank the fucker back to the porch where I loom over him by several inches.

“What?” he asks, terrified.

“Never look at her again, or you’ll lose your eyes.”

Yarrow pulls her blade and twirls it in front of the guy’s face. “We can use this,” she announces cheerfully.

The guy nearly looks at her when she speaks but then he remembers he’d prefer to keep his eyes. Nodding at me, he backs away once I let go of his jacket. Yarrow watches him hurry away until I tap her chin.

“Put the blade away, or you’ll make Alma piss herself.”

“I’m not scared of that little girl,” the hooker says from the doorway.

I size up the thirty-year-old blonde with her smudged mascara and too-bright pink lipstick. “You ought to be. She’ll cut you long before I will,” I say before gesturing for Alma to go inside.

We step into the cramped, messy trailer where I’m startled to find her two kids watching TV.

“You shouldn’t have them here when you’re working.”

“It’s fall break. Where are they supposed to go?” she asks and opens the fridge.

“You could take time off.”

“Not with what I’m bringing in.”

“Is that your way of bitching about our take?”

Alma dumps hot dogs into a pan before frowning at me. “No, that’s me saying times are tough.”

“Don’t you have daycare?” Yarrow asks, still twirling her blade.

“Who’s the girl?”

“She’s part of the crew that rolled into Rawlins months ago. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”

“They’re killers, huh?” Alma says. “Heard you used to be working girls too.”

“Do the other whores have kids?” Yarrow asks.

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you make a schedule so you can take turns watching the kids while the others work? You can each kick in money to the girl not working that day.”

“Sounds complicated.”

With Alma’s elementary-aged kids staring at me, I lower my voice to say, “If someone rats you out to child services, paying off the cops won’t be enough to keep you safe.”

“Who would rat me out?”

“Someone who wants the trash cleaned out of the park. That way, they can rent these trailers to better people,” Yarrow says. “The mayor is telling the business owners about the new jobs coming and how new residents will show up after that. Did you not know that?”

Alma frowns ugly at Yarrow who hasn’t made eye contact with the hooker since we arrived.

“Save the dirty looks,” I tell Alma. “She doesn’t care what you think. So maybe you ought to give that daycare idea some thought. Wouldn’t hurt for your kids to grow up not knowing how their mom earns her living.”

“Is that the only reason you came by?” Alma asks, frowning at me now.

“I heard the cops were showing up here a lot lately.”

“Yeah. They keep asking if we’ve had any male friends over.”

“Even more reason to get that daycare shit in order.”

“Are you planning to do anything about the cops?”

“Of course.”

“Next time the cops show up, call this number,” Yarrow says and hands Alma a business card. “Tell them you’re calling your lawyer. Don’t tell them anything else. Don’t let them in your trailer unless they have a warrant. If they try to come in any way, get the cops’ names so we can go after them.”

“Go after them?”

“Legally,” I say since lying makes me feel warm inside.

Yarrow immediately shakes her head. “No.”

I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and enjoy the feel of her soft skin. There’s something gorgeous about how little she gives a shit about saying the right thing.

“I’ll let you clean up,” I tell Alma since she reeks of cheap cologne and semen. “You ought to organize that daycare idea. That way, your kids don’t have to know what you do for a living.”

“Nothing wrong with what I do for a living.”

“She’s right,” Yarrow says, twirling the blade so close to her face that I’m certain she’ll lose an eye soon. “My mom was a hooker, and I turned out fine.”

I don’t know if Yarrow honestly thinks she’s fine or if she’s messing with Alma, but the point seems to get through to the hooker. She glances worried at her kids. No doubt she prefers they don’t grow up to be like my blade-wielding crazy fox.

Yarrow finally returns her knife to its holster once we walk outside where the rain again falls in a chilly mist. The hood of her sweatshirt comes up before I reach her and then she sprints into the rain like an excited kid. I swear I even hear her laugh. By the time I reach her in the truck, she’s sitting in the driver’s seat. I’m too wild about this crazy woman to care how she stole the keys when I wasn’t looking.