Ajai put the tray of clam chowder, artisan bread with cheese, olives, butter, and hot chocolate down on the bed next to Ghost. "Girl," said Ghost, "you be gettin' your own life. You part of da Valkyries, ain't you? Ain't you got somewhere else to be?"

"I ate myself. Why shouldn't I heat up yours at the same time I heat up mine? And, I got two orders to complete and send out by the end of the day. I may as well study here while the paint is drying." Ajai made sure there was a napkin on the tray.

"Screw that," said Ghost. "You been doin' de floors, ain't you? And no reason why de bathrooms clean, 'cept you."

Ajai shrugged. "Can't work in a dirty environment, can't I?"

"An dem dogs come home, dere tails waggin,' laughin' dere doggy smiles. You been walkin' 'em, huh?"

"Twice a day," said Ajai. "Have to. Otherwise they're kissing me half to death while I'm trying to work."

Ghost sat up, pulled the tray on her lap, and picked up her spoon. "Girl, you be chargin' me fo' dis time. And I ain't hear nothin' more 'bout it. Keep track o' da hours, an' we pay you."

"Yes, Ghost," said Ajai.

"An' you get some 'o dem udder girls ta help ya," she said. She bit into the bread, and nearly moaned. "And be sure da Wolfpack bein' paid," she said.

"Do you want to hire me as your accountant?" asked Ajai.

Ghost thought a minute. "Never needed one 'o dem before. Always hand ta mouth. Now we livin' large. Nah, call Lily. Ask if she do ours. Save us from paying some damn fool’s bill late."

"On it," said Ajai. Ajai texted Lily, after leaving the bedroom. “Care for a new client?”

“Maybe. Is it personal or business?”

“Kind of both. Ghost and Killa,” Ajai replied.

“I'll make time,” replied Lily. “And a damn good idea. They actually run several businesses now. I'll be by to set up their online accounts and investments in a day or two.”

“No rush,” texted Ajai. Ghost is still in bed and Killa hasn't popped yet.

“I haven't either,” texted Lily. “Still got some time to go. Spring baby.”

“See ya soon,” texted Ajai.

Lily came by, set up electronic banking, got all the bills on automatic pay, and was shocked to find out how much money Ghost was making... and just depositing, doing nothing with it. She got some investments going on; Killa and Ghost were willing to have both the standard portfolio of stocks, bonds, certificates of deposit, and a money market account for ready cash, and to fund some of Tito's real estate projects in exchange for charging interest on the money. All to be paid back when each project was fully paid for, or sold in the case of the houses being flipped. Tito was delighted to have plenty of winter projects to keep both his regular crew and a rotating crowd of Wolfpack members busy. He was thrilled that he could buy more real estate for rock-bottom prices to restore and sell.

Ajai worked with Lily to organize the miniature factory room; installing shelves, baskets, and several wider tables, so multiple projects could be done simultaneously. They hooked the laptop up to a monitor to project the latest orders, and set up a spreadsheet tracking orders coming in, finishing, and shipping, and another to track the materials on hand.

Ghost was amazed. "Be lookin' like some sci-fi movie, all da stuff ready to go, and labeled," she said.

"Got to have your tools at hand," Ajai said. "Henry says it all the time, and so do Inola and Nantan."

"Alrighty then," said Ghost. What you workin' on?"

Ajai showed her the projects on the screen, and how they went from bench to bench. From pours, to painting, to boxing, and to shipping with labels from the printer.

Ghost teared up. "Ain't no one worked that hard for just me before, 'cept Killa, an' she my wifey," she said. She hugged Ajai. That seemed to help Ghost relax somehow; her depression eased.

Ghost got used to having Ajai in the house all the time. Ajai learned everything Ghost had to teach, including how to feel her way into a great Harley. She heated the soups and artisan breads the Wolfpacks and Goat Girls made, and made sure Ghost ate. Ghost was exhausted and sore and slept nearly all the time, waking to watch television and to eat ice cream.

Ajai kept up with the orders, with Willow and Ruby ready and willing to help. Other Wolfpack members cleaned the judge's house, so Ajai was able to tell Ghost that the babies were fat, happy, and pooping and peeing, even when their diapers were being changed. Ghost smiled momentarily, and went back to sleep.

Ajai did her coursework, cleaned Ghost and Killa's condo, walked their dogs that spent all the rest of their time kissing Ghost in bed. She put in time with Killa and Bonnie at the Nighthawks garage, and occasionally cleaned houses when one of the other Wolfpack members needed a break. She made plenty of money to pay for school, and her part of the rent, and was shocked to find herself actually building a savings account.

Ghost finally worked her way out of her depression and exhaustion, and went back to miniatures, if not the shop. Bonnie came over for dinner twice a week, bringing hamburgers, pizza, or fried chicken. Killa was gentle with Ghost, and became, as she put it, "as wide as a barn door." Killa gave birth two weeks earlier than her due date, to a huge nine-pound baby girl. The parents were over the moon, and they got new luggage and a coupon for free clothes at a gorgeous little boutique off Harmon. They bought swimsuits and pareos, after Killa spent her own two weeks in bed. Ajai came around more, keeping both women fed. She gave them chocolate to ward off the depression, and organized their closets. That made Killa very happy.

"No more tings be fallin' on ma head," she said, rubbing her now-empty womb.

Killa recovered one morning, hopped out of bed, grabbed her laptop, and looked up flights. Ajai moved in, to take care of the dogs and run the miniatures business, and off they went.

In Pahrump, Skuld and Rota were up visiting Herja, because Skuld had to do police training. Sheriff Xenia Poloulakis, both Valkyries, took great pleasure in throwing each other all over the room, demonstrating techniques. Both Sheriff Bob Hunter and Xenia enjoyed rotating their people through the training. There were a lot of bruises and some cursing, but they all learned how to take a suspect down with as little violence as possible, only taking out a gun when absolutely necessary.

After the last class, they went to the local coffee shop to nurse their bruises and commiserate. They ordered apple pie with caramel on top for Xenia, and apple pie with cinnamon ice cream for Bob.

"What's eating you?" asked Xenia, resigned to her decaffeinated coffee. At least it's hot, she thought.

"Wish Avery could have had this training," he said. "Might have gotten through his thick head."

"Might have," said Xenia. "Did you teach him anything different than what Skuld did?"

"Not a thing," he said, sipping his coffee, nearly scalding his mouth on the heat.

"Your former deputy dressed up like he was going on military ops when he went to arrest a woman for unpaid parking tickets, and shot the family dog without provocation," said Xenia. "And, just for fun, drew on a civilian in a crowded hospital," she added. "And, he lost a civil case against you in court. Think that ship has sailed."

She took sip of her coffee, and Francine, the server and part owner of the coffee shop, filled up her cup. Francine was as old as dirt, with fire-red hair, green eyes, a curvaceous body, and a smart mouth.

"Thanks, Francine," she said.

"Couldn't help overhearing," said Francine, putting away the coffeepots and handing them the two plates of pie goodness.

"You could overhear if we were down the street at the flower shop," said Bob. "Bat ears."

Francine laughed. "True. Now Bob, don't take this the wrong way, but you sittin' here givin' yourself fits when I saw you, right here, in this booth, going over the law with that boy, telling him about procedures, many a time."

Xenia stared at her husband. "Been trying to tell him that, Francine," she said. "Bet Bob here read Avery the riot act, many a time."

Francine nodded like a bobblehead. "Yes, he gave him what for lots of times. Told Baby Avery to straighten up and fly right, but that boy had his ears closed. Cement in his head, I think."

Xenia had stopped listening, and had closed her eyes. The pie actually made her want to swoon, whatever swooning was.

"My god," said Bob. "My woman's having a foodgasm."

Francine laughed so loud that people in China could hear her, let alone everyone in the diner. "Be glad she's craving apple pie with cheddar, Bob. Don't want to go mixing gummy worms and blueberry yogurt, or other such stuff."

Bob cringed. "She gets like that, I'm moving out." He'd finally moved in with his wife; he had a bear of a time getting rid of the sheer amount of stuff he'd had no idea he'd accumulated over the years.

Their forks clattered to the plates as the first shots rang out. "Get down! Under the tables!" bellowed Bob, as Xenia grabbed Francine's arm, dragged her down with one hand, and unholstered her gun with the other.

She got up into a crouch and dragged Francine under the table. Just as she began to peer around the corner, she saw the people at the counter start to fall, cut in half by short bursts of machine gun fire.

Baby Avery, she thought. They'd been able to take away his service weapon, but he legally kept the rest of his arsenal. Bob was yelling into his shoulder mic as Xenia took aim at the metal she could see past the shattered remains of the plate glass window. She pulled the trigger, twice. A bullet pinged off the gun, and a second hit Baby Avery in the shoulder. People ran, screaming and crying, out the back. Xenia aimed again, and fired off two more shots.

She held her fire when something in blue streaked down the street toward Baby Avery, leaping past and over people running away. Skuld, thought Xenia, and she reached over to hold Bob's gun hand as he prepared to fire. The blue thing sent Baby Avery sprawling. Skuld's got this, thought Xenia, as she holstered her weapon and knelt to start giving first aid to the victims.

Bob saw the blue thing, and registered that Skuld had been wearing the police issue, blue-fleece pullover that morning.

He pointed his gun at the ground and ran toward Skuld, screaming, "Stay down!"

He tried to open the shattered glass door, but was blocked by the glass. He used his elbow to clear out the glass, and stepped through the door. He was too late to help. Skuld tore the gun out of Avery's hand and struck him with it. Avery fell, his legs suddenly refusing to work. He hit a parking meter with a sickening crack, then crumpled to the ground. The gun was strapped to Avery; Skuld undid the closures and handed it to Bob. Bob holstered his gun and took the submachine gun, a black thing heavy with the weight of death.

Skuld knelt, and touched his throat. "Dead," she said.

He knew Xenia would have called it in, but he did it as well. He called dispatch. "Irma, this is Sheriff Hunter. Get me the coroner, and every damn ambulance in the county. This is a mass shooting at Francine's Coffee, and we need every officer here double-time." A cop car came screaming around the corner, and Officers Yasmine Bleeker and Tommy Trudeau hopped out. "Get in there and help the wounded," he shouted at them.

He looked at Skuld. "Take out your cell phone and record this," he said.

Skuld finished her text, a Norse battle cry that would get every Valkyrie nearby there double-time, while simultaneously imparting the information that all the current Valkyries remained alive.

She pulled up her camera, and recorded Bob. He said, "I'm putting this in the trunk of my car, while simultaneously getting out my first aid kit. The suspect is dead, and the living need help, first."

He signaled for her to stop recording, then he rushed to his police car, popped the trunk, took the ammo out of the submachine gun, slid the murder weapon into an evidence bag, and took out a first aid kit, police tape, and a bullhorn. He slammed the trunk down, and ran back to the diner. He gave Skuld the police tape, and rushed into the mess of glass and crimson.

It was like a war zone in there. People were cut by glass, ripped apart by bullets. Food was everywhere; blood was sprayed on the walls. He rushed to Elemina Doherty; everyone called her Emmie. She was eighty if she was a day. He saw the bullet wound in her shoulder, opened the first aid kit, and put on gloves.

"Emmie," he said, pulling out a pressure bandage, "this is going to hurt like a bitch."

She nodded. "Already does, Bob," she said. He applied the bandage. She moaned, and he got her wrapped up tight. "Fastest way to get you to the hospital's gonna be a private car," he said.

"I'm on it," said Joe Fairsteen, an ex-student of the ex-teacher Emmie. He lifted her as if she were glass. "Anyone who can walk and you're hurt, come with me," Joe bellowed. "I've got a truck." Neighbors picked up neighbors, and carried them out to Joe's truck.

Reynaldo Alvarez was dead; his mother wept over him. Bob checked her for injuries and moved on. Peaches Chiros was shot in the leg; he tied off and bandaged the mangled mess and squawked at Bobbi Timerlee, the EMT running in the door, to get Peaches to the hospital double-time. He grabbed what was left of his kit and pawed through the bodies, looking for survivors. He heard a scrabbling overhead, and called up.

"Whoever's up there, the shooter's dead." He went over to the nearest grate, and ten-year-old Jason Guggio popped out. "Smart boy," said Bob. His mama, Gina, was already being seen by Trace, from the fire department.

"Can you get to your daddy?" he asked the boy. Jackson Guggio ran a fruit stand not five buildings down the street. "We got your mama covered, so go take care of your dad." Jason nodded.

Bob ran over the closest shattered window with his jacketed arm, bringing down the rest of the glass. He passed Jason out to the waiting hands of Henrietta Stone, who owned the pizzeria next to the fruit stand.

"Get him to his dad," he said to Henrietta.

"Will do," she said. She turned and ran, the boy clinging to her like a burr.

Omar Dreyovich, the cook and half owner with Francine, was alive. He had the presence of mind to turn off all the stoves and ovens, and was using stacks of clean napkins like bandages, folding one up and tying a bandage napkin on top of whatever wound presented itself. Bob grabbed a stack and went off to the right; his wife was on her knees with another stack on the left. There was screaming and crying, but mostly everyone just worked as fast as they could to stop the bleeding and get everyone out.

The first of the motorcycles roared up. They could be heard over the sirens. The calvary, thought Bob. Then, he thought, Skuld's text. He sincerely doubted his wife had time to text anyone. Women in motorcycle leathers and steel-toed boots poured in, first aid kits in hand. They spread out in a search pattern, looking for survivors. Cries of "Medic,” “Triage One" and "Triage Two" were heard as they found survivors. More children were handed out windows into waiting hands.

The room emptied as EMTs, fire department, and search and rescue people came in with stretchers and got people out. Yasmine and Tommy switched from saving lives to preserving and recording the scene. The coroner drove up, saw the body outside, then came inside as Bob began to help Yasmine and Tommy with the evidence markers, and the pictures. Xenia stood, took photos, and then sat down in a booth that was, miraculously, free of either glass or blood. She poured herself a coffee from a carafe on the table into a clean cup, and began making phone calls. She pulled out her laptop, and began taking notes.

The Valkyries filed out, except for two. Special Agent Rhona Seirdon, FBI, had been in transit from Reno to Las Vegas, to give a deposition on a case. She called her boss, pushed back the deposition, then got herself assigned to the scene. She wasn't going to be allowed to go anywhere, anytime soon. She coordinated with Bob and Xenia, and took Xenia's sidearm as evidence. Ruger Thallesion was a technician with the county coroner's office. She worked with Bob to identify the bodies so next of kin could be notified right away.

Bob sat at Xenia's booth and asked, "We've got a list. Shall we do it together, or split it up?"

"Most of them know already," she said. "So, it won't take as long as you think. But, this is a big place. Anyone out in the middle of nowhere?"

He consulted his list. "No one on opposite sides. More like an arc."

She stood, rubbed her back. "Let's do this."

They each got wet wipes out of their trunks, along with blue medical waste bags. They cleaned themselves off as best they could. They swung by the house first; they both had blood-soaked jeans. They put them in evidence bags, labeled them, and put them in Xenia's trunk. They stopped off for bottled water, then headed out to make notifications in Xenia's newer Yukon. They held hands, handed out tissue packs like candy, and primarily dealt with people who already knew. Several had been outside, on the road, or otherwise not listening to the news or the much louder neighbor network. Most already had the much-needed assistance of family, neighbors, friends, or clergy.

By the time they dropped off their blood-soaked clothing at the lab, swung back to get Bob's car, and went to their respective offices for debriefing, dusk had fallen. Bob gave his statement, but left the rest of the case to the FBI and Yasmine, his second; she had point and she knew it. He gave her the evidence bag with Avery's assault rifle and left her to it. Bob went back to Xenia's office to be sure she had some dinner (that they wouldn't want to eat) that would taste like ashes in their mouths, but they both needed.

A brand-new FBI Special Agent in Charge was in Xenia's office, questioning her. Bob stalked right in and sat down. "Ask Sheriff Xenia Poloulakis whatever pleases you to ask her, but she's pregnant, and we've both lost friends we've had since grade school, today. She needs food and rest, so either wrap it up, or let her recline and feed her. Pick one."

The SAC looked at him with a grimace. "I'm Special Agent in Charge, Donaldson. You must be Sheriff Robert Hunter."

"Pleased to meet you," said Bob. "So, does she get the recliner and the food, or does she go home?"

"I'm asking the questions here," said Donaldson.

"No, you're not," said Bob. "You have anything to ask, you can do it in the morning."

Xenia stood and wobbled a little. Bob held out a hand, but she straightened. "What he said. See that camera I demanded you turn on? I told you I'd run it through, twice. The suspect is dead; what's left is wrapping up this horror show. You're heading over the exact same material a second time, and my answers aren't going to change. If you can't find your answer on that tape, write out a list and ask me in the morning." She stopped, shook her head. "No, you may set up a video call, but I'm not coming in tomorrow, and you're not welcome at my house. You've been rude and condescending for no reason I can think of, so you're either an asshole, or you're trying to get a rise out of me. Either way, you're a stone fool."

She reached over, turned off the camera, and grabbed her jacket. "Get the fuck out of my office," she said. "If you want to use a room, use the conference room down the hall." She glared down at him until he stood up, straightened his jacket, and walked past Bob out of the office. She locked it, and turned to go.

"I'm not the enemy," said SAC Donaldson.

"Yeah," said Bob, "you kinda are. What did you think would happen if you questioned an exhausted, hungry, pregnant woman? Rainbows and unicorns?"

Donaldson said, "Let's keep this professional."

"You first," said Xenia. He blanched at the look of a hungry predator on her face. He turned, and walked away.

"I'm sick and hungry at the same time," said Xenia, as she led Bob out into the chilly night.

"Eating is the last thing I want to do, but I have a nasty headache, and we both need sleep," said Bob.

"Tacos?" she asked.

Bob went white under his gray pallor. "Reynaldo's dead," he said.

"Not The Taqueria," she said. "I was thinking Taco Hell."

Bob nodded. "We need fast food. Get us fed and home."

They parked and went in. The kid at the counter was friendly and perky, the opposite of their day. They ordered tacos and sodas, and ate them on hard, plastic seats. No one spoke to them. They got up, threw away the trash, and were heading out when Pastor Wilma came in.

Wordlessly, she hugged them both. "Fuel," she said, pointing to the counter. "Candlelight vigil."

"We could..." said Xenia.

"Don't," said Wilma. "Don't add stupid to what already happened today. I assume you know about his mother."

Bob nodded. They'd heard it on the radio, but neither one of them could be involved in the investigation. Ex-Officer Avery had shot his perfectionist mother, first.

"It shouldn't have surprised me," said Bob. "She either denigrated him or put him on a pedestal, sometimes at the same time. Boy couldn't have turned out well, with what that rigid woman put in his head."

Xenia stiffened. "We all have a choice."

Wilma nodded. "I hope you two will go home and rest," she said. "Let the families mourn with their candles and songs at the vigil."

"We should check on Francine," said Xenia.

"Already did, and she's the one that set up the vigil," said Wilma. "She's been on Omar to retire, and they will now, I think."

"Damn," said Xenia. "Best pie in the county."

Wilma smiled a tired smile that didn't reach her eyes. "The congregation's counting on me to bring the junk food," she said. "I only came in because I saw your cars." She smiled sadly. "Go home, and mourn together."

Bob followed Xenia to the house. They wordlessly took off their jackets, boots and belts. "Gonna have to get new jackets," said Xenia. They were torn, scuffed, and the leather hid the bloodstains.

They locked up their service pistols, and wordlessly threw the rest of their clothes in the trash, except for the jeans they'd changed into. They got into the shower, and washed each other, both crying wordless tears. Xenia sunk to the bottom of the shower, and Bob held her as they both cried until the water ran cold. They dried each other off, and Bob dried Xenia's hair partway. She braided it on one side in Valkyrie braids. They put on underwear, flannel pajamas, and thick socks, and held each other until the nightmares hit. Then, they took turns waking each other up, turning on the light, and looking at the lighted numbers of the bedside clock to see that they weren't still in the world of blood and cordite. They finally fell asleep at dawn.

Daylight

Ajai was carefully positioning the shipping labels inside the plastic covers when her phone buzzed. She sealed them, then walked them to the door. Pickup was in a few minutes; she was cutting it close. The dogs followed her, smiling doggy smiles and hoping she would give them doggy cookies. She opened her phone, and saw the Old Norse. She grabbed the How to Take Care of the Dogs, How to Clean Ghost and Killa's House, and How to Package the Deliveries files on her phone, and emailed them to Willow and Ruby. Both of them had real-world classes to take care of; Ajai had three days before her next face-to-face class. She ran to the refrigerator, opened it, then grabbed cans of cola and bottles of water and iced coffee. She threw them into a plastic bag, along with some blue frozen packs. She then pulled out sandwiches and little containers of fruit, and put them in another bag with more blue packs.

The doorbell rang, and she had to keep from throwing the boxes at the pickup guy. She handed them to him, one by one, so he could scan them, and he took them away. She shut the door, handed out dog treats in exchange for doggy kisses, stuffed her backpack full of cold bags, put on her leathers, and was just in time to catch the elevator. She went to her pride and joy, filled up her saddlebags with the cold food and drinks, and stowed her backpack. Next, she was off to fill up her gas tank for the ride to Pahrump. Her mama, Rota, was on the road ahead of her. They met up at a convenience store along the road where Rota filled up her own backpacks with blue packs, sandwiches, snacks, and drinks.

Rota clasped her daughter to her. "Hear it's real-bad, lots of casualties," said Ajai.

"News is sketchy," said Rota. "Let's ride."

Glass littered the sidewalk. The coroner had taken away Baby Avery's body, and Skuld was being interviewed by police. She had her phone out and so did the cop, both recording the conversation. Rota nodded to her wife, and Ajai inclined her head. Skuld gave the briefest nod, and turned back to the interview.

They set up "shop" at the far end of the coffee shop sidewalk, with two TV trays scavenged from the local hardware store. Anyone with a uniform or a badge, or who was covered in blood or smashed glass, got sandwiches and their choice of drinks. The local 7-11 owner came out with coolers, ice, snacks, and cases of drinks; Ajai stopped to open the coolers and fill them up. A passing Valkyrie grabbed the empty boxes, smashed them, and took them to be recycled.

Herja herself came by with Devastator, her Iron Knight love. They brought real tables in Devastator's truck, and loads of snack food in cardboard boxes from a local store.

"Need sugar and caffeine to keep going," said Herja. "This is a fucking long haul. Take days to get it all nailed down." They set up a generator, plugged in a portable heater, and brought out stacks of blankets and started handing them out. "Ladies Auxiliary got the other side," said Herja.

Devastator and Herja bought thermoses at a local box store and a giant coffee tureen. They washed everything, plugged in the tureen, and began passing out filled thermoses. Herja and Devastator set up a tent and chairs so the responders could get out of the wind. Local and county cops, the coroner and her staff, firefighters, EMTs, and FBI all got the food and coffee. The Red Cross showed up, and Skuld contacted Xenia about where to send them. The Red Cross went to the local VW hall just down the street, and gladly took blankets, coffee, biscuits, and a second tureen with them.

When dusk started to come down, they took turns going to get some dinner in warm restaurants, then came back to the tent. They moved the tent over to be just outside the police tape, and turned it so the cops could simply lift the tape and walk in.

Mist came to take over the tent with two baby Valkyries, like Ajai. "I'm going back to the garage," said Skuld. "Got two bikes I promised would be ready by morning, and I keep my word."

"I'll help," said Ajai.

Skuld and Rota hugged their daughter. "We'll see what needs to be done," said Rota. "Go." They touched foreheads, and Ajai went to build bikes in the dark.

Herja's team was there, Pila and Jedda, banging out the work to a screaming beat. Pila had blue-black hair done in tiny braids on one side, studs in her ears, and nearly every part of her face pierced. Jedda had a round face, pink hair in the Valkyrie side braids, and black lipstick. Both ladies moved as if they were born with tools in their hands. Herja gave Ajai a toolbelt, and they went at it.

Herja had the habit of screaming the lyrics to the thrash metal songs as she worked, and Ajai got quite the musical education that night. She also helped finish two Harleys, a gorgeous maroon three-wheeler and an all-chrome, custom job. Ghost had taught her how to weld the perfect bead.

"Shit, girl," said Pila, coming over to look. "You goin' to Colorado?" referring to an excellent school for Harley mechanics there.

"Getting my business associate's degree first," Ajai said.

"Smart," said Pila. "I'm getting mine in the mornings."

"Good," said Ajai. They worked steadily, and were done with everything they could do by three am.

"Come on," said Herja. "Pie. I'm buying."

"I want that chocolate silk pie," said Pila, putting away the broom and hanging up her apron.

"Fuck that," said Jedda. "Peanut butter toffee. That's the way to go."

They rode to the local pie restaurant inside a small casino, and had incredible pie. Herja saw Ajai to the red-roofed hotel just out of town, where her parents had left her a key to her own room. She checked in, took a shower, and crashed.

* * *

Xenia and Bob each ate breakfast bars. Neither one could stand to eat a real meal; food tasted like ground glass and ashes to them. They filled up their thermoses with coffee for Bob, and tea for Xenia.

"Love the new ones," said Xenia, holding her blue one up. "Skuld and her merry band did good."

"I'll never forget your pouring yourself coffee at a crime scene."

"Not exactly contaminating anything," said Xenia. "Shooter was dead." She took a sip, grimaced. "I prefer tea with my caffeine."

"Sorry," said Bob.

"I'm riding with you," said Xenia. "Even if I don't put in a full day, I have to check in."

"You sure?" asked Bob, throwing away the wrapper to his almond cranberry bar.

"I'll take the bike, so I can make a quick getaway if need be." She packed up her laptop and a TV tray, and put them by the door to go in Bob's SUV.

"Alrighty then," said Bob. They showered, put on their uniforms, petted the cat, grabbed the laptop and TV tray, and went to Bob's office.

Donald Avery was standing outside the police station, cup of coffee forgotten in his hand. "Don," said Bob. Don turned, and stared right through Bob. He opened his mouth, but said nothing. "Let's go in," Bob said. "Sit down awhile." Bob led the dazed man into the station, and marched him past Luce, his admin.

Xenia followed with the laptop backpack, her thermos, some notes, and the TV tray. She set up the tray in Bob's office, attaching the TV tray to the end of desk. She put her laptop on it, plugged it in, and booted it up as Bob sat Don down. She knew she'd be ignored; she was counting on it.

"What can I do for you, Don?" asked Bob.

"I knew," said Don.

"That he was going to kill your ex-wife?" asked Bob. "Or that he was going to the diner?"

"What? No. I knew he was a grenade with the pin pulled out."

The best description of Marcel Avery I've ever heard, thought Xenia.

Bob nodded. "When did you last speak to Marcel?"

"I know what everyone called him, ‘Baby Avery.’ His mom started with that. I told her to stop, but she never listened to anyone. Got more narrow-minded in her thinking, more rigid, almost every damn day. Believed anything any preacher on TV said, too." He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. "She expected him to be perfect, to the line, her line. He broke his little boy heart doing it. I told her to calm down, back off, parenting is a journey, not a race. She..." Tears streamed down his face. "I tried to get custody, but she was on so many boards by then. Got some holidays and two weekends a month, not nearly enough to shore him up after she would tear him down and praise him, sometimes in the same two breaths. By the time he was twelve, she had him convinced I was the Devil. Wouldn't meet with me, no matter what the courts said. So, I let him go." Don put his head in his hands, and choked out sobs.

Bob took out some tissues and handed them to Don. “It’s alright,” said Bob.

"I was so proud," he said. "When he graduated from the police academy. Went to his graduation. Told him so. But he was so skinny, so angry. Wanted nothing to do with me."

"I told him you were a good man," said Bob. "He..."

"Had a cement head, just like his mother," said Don. "Didn't hear a word you said, did he?" Bob slowly shook his head. "I saw you with him, how you tried to mentor him. He got into those… those video games. His mama told me about it when she was yelling at me in the supermarket, once. How I never played baseball with him, got him out of the house, away from those games." He smiled through his tears. "I lost it, then. Told her about all the weekends, the baseball games, fishing, science fairs, and long walks we had, and how she destroyed all that by telling him over and over what a son-of-a-bitch his father was. I never," he said, stabbing the air with a finger, "ever missed one child support payment, or one alimony payment. I worked my way up at the bank, the very slow way, but I did it. Loan manager," he said. "Not that she gave a damn." He smiled again. "I gave her what for, right in front of God, and everybody."

“This is healthy to let this out. Keep going,” said Bob, kindly.

His face crumpled. "Of course, that means she put up even more walls so she didn't have to hear how she was wrong. Told herself and anyone that would listen that it was my fault. I never cheated, never lied. I just couldn't stay married to..." He took in a deep breath. "A controlling stone-cold bitch."

“Yes,” said Bob.

Don took another breath and wiped his streaming eyes. "The video games weren't the problem, not really. It was because he couldn't make and keep friends because he was awkward and he just didn't listen. So, he withdrew into a world where he was a hero." Don heaved in a breath that sounded like he was an asthmatic smoker. "When he killed the dog, I was heartbroken. Who does that? I tried talking, but I was wasting my breath. I offered to buy another dog, but the guy said no, that he was suing Avery. His mom... she lost two of her positions, did you know that? Two committees. And more of them were gonna vote her out, on account of she couldn't hear anyone speaking bad about her little boy. The school board wouldn't give her the time of day."

"I didn't know that," said Bob. "She was agitating to get me fired. Then, Avery pulled a gun on a shooting victim in a hospital, who was standing in the hallway waiting to see if her friends would live or die after a shooting." Don grimaced.

"And on me," said Xenia, quietly. "I was there."

"Why didn't you arrest him?" asked Don. "He wouldn't be dead if he was in jail!"

Xenia worked her jaw. "I seriously considered it. But, he had a lot of weapons on him, and we were in a hospital, and he wasn't working with a full deck. I was afraid he'd hurt civilians. I gave the case to Internal Affairs."

"I'm afraid the rules are a little different for us. He got fired," said Bob. "Then sued, which effectively prevented him from ever working in law enforcement again."

"He shouldn't be," said Don. His face crumpled as he realized he hadn't spoken about his son in the past tense.

"I agree," said Bob. "I followed departmental policy, and went way past it with trying to teach him how to be a cop. But, he didn't get that it was about making sure Irma at the post office had a nice day, and that Victoria's hardware store didn't get broken into. Or just having a cup of coffee at the diner to hear all the gossip."

Don's face froze, then opened. "So that's why he went there?" Don said. "I wondered about that. Shooting his mom, I get. She was a horrible woman, and thought herself to be just the opposite. But why shoot up the coffee shop?"

"To kill us," said Xenia. "Our cars were right there in the side lot. He had to have known we were in there." She thought for a moment. "The only reason why we were in a booth and not at the counter is because I'm pregnant, and wanted to sit in a booth and not on a bar stool."

"Eight people dead," said Don.

"Nine," said Xenia. "Thomas was only three. He died last night." Don put his head in his hands, and wept as if he would never stop.

* * *

Francine was waiting in the lobby. "He gonna be okay?" she asked, as Bob saw Don out the door.

"His son murdered about ten people yesterday. Would you be?" said Bob. "Come on back. Coffee or soda?"

"Lemon-lime soda if you have it," said Francine.

Bob led her back to his office, took a soda out of his tiny refrigerator, and handed it to her. She popped the top, and drank. Bob sipped his coffee, and Xenia smiled benignly at both of them.

"I'm here to thank ya'll. You saved my ass. Both of you."

"Had to," said Xenia. "Best pie in the county."

Francine barked out a laugh. "Omar makes the best damn pies." She smiled sadly. "Omar says that's it. No more coffee shop."

"What will you do with it, once the insurance kicks in?" asked Bob.

"Take off," said Francine.

"Why don't you have a lottery?" asked Xenia. "These people need a coffee shop, and there is someone out there willing to pay some money to join a contest. Get your money, award the coffee shop, get out of there. Leave your recipes," said Xenia.

"Can put the recipes together while we're waiting," said Francine. "And packing. And selling our stuff."

"Leave the furniture," suggested Xenia. "You live over the coffee shop. It's a restaurant and a place to live in one. Even with what happened yesterday, after the cleanup you should get people ready to snap it up."

Francine smiled sadly. "Omar wants to go back to Lebanon," she said.

"Financial capital of the Middle East," said Xenia. "They have great universities there."

"A university," said Francine. "Good place to have a..."

"Pie shop," said Xenia. "Introduce them to American cuisine."

Francine stood. She wobbled a bit, then righted herself. "I've got to talk to Omar," she said. "And thanks for the soda, and for saving my life and all."

"No problem," said Bob. They both stood and hugged her, and Francine walked out with a spring in her step.

The next visitor was the fire chief, Theo Barnes, to give his report. "Thank the Valkyries for me," he said, hat in hand. "They got to victims quickly. We had a brush fire on the side of the highway when it happened. We would have twice as many dead if it weren't for them. And the coffee and snacks."

"Least we could do," said Xenia. "People tend to give food, water, and blankets to victims, forgetting the long hours cops, firefighters, and the like put in."

Theo nodded. "I've gotta go. Got a shit-ton of paperwork to do.”

"I feel your pain," said Bob.

"Got my own to type up. Bye, Theo," said Xenia.

The Red Cross came by, gave their little report, and headed off for a new crisis to manage. The Ladies' Auxiliary did the same thing.

Jean Benton was sniffling. "I can't get it out of my head," she said. "The blood and glass. And poor Mrs. Avery! Shot to death by her own son! She was one of us, you know."

I doubt genuinely helping others was on her agenda, thought Bob. Prestige, power, doing what looked good. But actual compassion wasn't high on her list.

"We're putting together a memorial wall," said Jean.

"I think what we need the most," said Xenia, "is support for the families. People to cook and clean, and take dogs for walks, and clean out litterboxes, and get the kids to school… and to doctor's appointments. To keep the tissues coming. To listen without judging. Grief means you won't eat, sleep, or be able to function. People need to function for them, sometimes for weeks."

Bob pulled up a list of victims for Jean, and printed it on his tiny desktop printer. "Go set up a schedule and help these peoples' families," he said.

"I…" said Joan, and scanned the list. "I... yes, a schedule." She straightened her spine. "We're on it, Sheriff. Sheriffs." Bob and Xenia nodded at her and she left.

Bob looked at his wife with admiration. "Damn you're good," he said.

"My awesomeness knows no bounds," she said. "Now, go get me a chocolate chunk muffin," she said. "Baby is hungry."

"Yes, Ma'am," he said.

She fielded his calls, taking messages, talking to the coroner and her overworked staff. And having his officers call him on his cell. She told reporters, “No comment,” made a plan for a news conference, and typed up the details. She gave Bob the printout of the news conference when he arrived, and she attacked her muffin. She popped a soda, and answered email after email, fielding calls on her cell phone.

A steady stream of panicked people came in. The mayor, Rick Skiar, was intensely worried about liability. "Sit down," said Bob, as Rick paced. The tone made Rick sit. "I'm absolutely sure Amber explained this to you, because I explained it to her." Amber was the city attorney. "We didn't give Ex-Officer Avery psychological testing. An outside firm did. I noted everything I did with Avery in damn near triplicate. All that came out in court in the lawsuit. I recorded many of our training sessions, with Avery's verbal and, at times, signed consent. I followed every procedure I was supposed to when I fired him. He was on administrative leave for shooting an elderly family dog that was no threat to him, or anyone else. He did it while going to arrest a woman on a bench warrant, at night, alone, armed to the gills in gear we don't supply. Again, public record, in open court. He pulled a gun on a civilian in a hospital hallway with operating rooms on both sides. Again, public record. We. Have. No. Liability." Bob smiled a tight smile, and leaned forward. "Rick, shouldn't you be comforting Reese Gilles? She lost both her husband and her child."

Rick reddened. "I..."

"How is riding my ass supposed to help? Make you feel better?" asked Bob, his disgust obvious. "I was shot at, too. So was My. Pregnant. Wife. Or did you forget that?"

Rick turned pale. "I'll see what the victims need," he said, and stood.

"You do that," said Bob. Rick hurried out of the room.

Xenia looked up from her typing. "That'll blow back on you, someday."

"No," said Bob, grimly, "it won't. Not if Rick has an ounce of political sense." He held up his hand at his wife's snort. "If his wife has political sense."

"Tamlyn would run this city much better than Rick the Dick does," said Xenia. "And I expect she'll give him an earful when she finds out why he really came over here."

Tamlyn did show up later. The mayor's wife was on the city council. She had cafe au lait skin, a shock of black hair that was braided loosely at the nape of her neck, and intelligent brown eyes. She wore a black dress, low black heels, stockings, and understated silver jewelry.

"I'm here for two purposes. One, to apologize for my insensitive oaf of a husband."

Xenia looked at her. "Off the record," she said. Tamlyn waved a hand, "why don't you divorce him?"

"Two years," said Tamlyn. "Then both Roberta and Quinnie's college costs will be paid. Don't want to saddle my girls with twenty thousand dollars each of debt, do I?"

"Does Rick know this?" asked Xenia. "And don't mayoral campaigns cost money?"

"His father," said Tamlyn, waving a manicured hand, "won't pay a dime for his granddaughters to go to university, but will pay through the nose for his son's political ambitions."

"Idiot," said Xenia, sweetly. Both women laughed.

Bob cringed a little at the female verbal stilettos. He said, "Your second reason for coming, Tamlyn?"

Tamlyn smiled. "My second reason for coming is to thank you."

Both Bob and Xenia sat up straight in their chairs. "For what?" asked Xenia. "I shot at someone shooting at me. I knew he was wearing body armor, and I was sighting through a plate glass window that was in the process of being shredded, so I went for the metal. The big-assed gun. Hear I hit it. And his shoulder."

Bob sighed. "I didn't get a shot off. Skuld, with the platinum hair and vicious kickboxing skills got him. I was walking through a door, and didn't see exactly how she did it."

"You should see the tape," said Tamlyn. "Security cameras. She grabbed the gun, drew it to her, and hit him with the butt of the gun. While it was still strapped to his body, I might add. He hit his head on a parking meter, and died instantly."

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy," said Bob. "Off the record."

"Off the record," said Tamlyn, "I agree. I want to give her some sort of reward. A medal?"

"Send your daughters to school," said Xenia. "She has a daughter herself."

"The one handing out water, coffee, snacks, and food," said Tamlyn. "I met her. Extraordinary girl."

"Better than extraordinary," said Xenia. "She did that after riding up from Vegas. After volunteering on the coffee line, she went to our friends' bike shop, where she got an order out. Stayed until three in the morning. She fell asleep with grease under her fingernails."

"Well," said Tamlyn, "we can reward her daughter."

"Nope," said Bob. "Take it from me. The Valkyries don't want any rewards, kudos, any of it. They don't need it."

"Too late," said Tamlyn, handing Bob the morning paper.

The aftermath of the shooting was on the front page, with a sidebar about the volunteers. The Ladies Auxiliary on one side, and the Valkyries on the other. Ajai was giving a water bottle in the photo to a firefighter, and rested a hand on his arm. The firefighter's arm was covered in shards of glass, and he looked ready to collapse, with pain on his face.

"That girl is extraordinary," said Tamlyn.

"Skuld is going to have a cow," said Xenia, taking the paper in her hands. "Way off the record, but this girl was rescued from a human trafficking ring. They think they got them all, but someone may still be floating around who will recognize her."

"I doubt it," said Bob. "She's a Valkyrie. She looks nothing like what she did before, I'll wager."

Tamlyn looked horrified. "I had no idea!"

Xenia called Skuld. "We've seen it," said Skuld. "We will dye her hair crimson. But, she has lost her baby fat and her eyes are fierce and strong. She can also fight with our best. No one will look at her and see a victim."

"Is she sleeping?" asked Xenia.

"No, she went back to see the clients pick up the bike. She says Ghost is right, that giving the bike to its owner has no words, and no better feeling. Rota is with her."

Xenia nodded. "I understand. But, take her home when you can."

"This afternoon," said Skuld. "I already bought the hair dye." She rustled a bag. "I bought blue for myself, but perhaps we will trade."

"Streaks," said Xenia. Skuld laughed, and hung up. "They're good," said Xenia to Bob and Tamlyn. "They're leaving town today."

Bob nodded. "The Valkyries will protect her."

Xenia snorted. "Like I protected the people at the diner?"

Tamlyn glared at her. "You shot the bad guy. Twice."

"I'm the one that didn't get a shot off, love," said Bob. "And, methinks you're hungry."

"No more of Omar's pie," said Xenia sadly.

"They're leaving?" asked Tamlyn. "Of course they are." She rubbed her eyes.

"Going to Lebanon," said Xenia. "To make pie."

"Of course they are," said Tamlyn. "Let's go get fed, somewhere we won't be mobbed. In N’ Out?"

"Sonic," said Xenia. "I'm craving cheese sticks."

"Thank all the gods it isn't gummy worms and blueberry yogurt," said Bob.

"What?" said Xenia, as she folded down the laptop, unplugged the power cord, and slipped it all into her computer bag.

"Something Francine said," Bob noted. "Right before Avery started firing."

"This is a before-and-after thing," said Tamlyn. "Isn't it? And we're all going to remember what we were doing when it happened."

"Pivotal events are like that," said Bob, opening the door for the ladies.

Nighthawk Owl Pack

Henry stood, and ran into the kitchen. David poured lavender tea into thick mugs, then added a bit of mesquite honey. "I got it!" said Henry, holding his tablet over his head as if he'd scored a touchdown with it.

David put one of the mugs in front of Henry. Henry danced around in a victory pow-wow dance, making David laugh. "What did you get?"

"The beds!" he said.

They had been holding off on ordering hospital beds, state-of-the-art monitoring equipment, and hospital supplies, while waiting for permission to have two, hospital-style beds in the home.

"Now we get to order everything, and hire a nurse!"

"Three," said David. "Two shifts, plus weekends."

"On it!" said Henry. He kissed David, then carried his tablet and tea into the other room.

David laughed, and went upstairs to tell the Owl Pack. The Owl Pack were rescued from a nursing home. Two First Nation women were still not on a reservation, surrounded by their people, because of the lack of hospital-style care for them. The situation was even more heartbreaking because they were very conscious of what was going on around them, their minds intact --and nothing to do but watch terrible television from a hospital bed.

David took the pot of tea with his own mug, and six mugs and spoons, and the honey pot to where the house seniors liked to hang out; the conservatory turned craft room. The Owl Pack was engaged in heavy activity on this winter morning. Carl was beading, Vu was reading a comic Coyote story to everyone, Jake was preparing a Paiute lesson for the Nighthawks kids. Maia was carding wool, and Beth the day nurse, was winding yarn for Maia.

David put the tea down, and prepared it for each one with just the right amount of honey, or no honey in Vu's case. He took his mug, sat down, and listened to the race between Coyote and a cloud. When she finished, he said the plan to move the two women into the "medicine room" was afoot.

Vu was delighted. "I'll get each one of them an e-reader and load them with books in Paiute and English."

"And Netflix," said Jake.

"Of course," said Vu.

"My first afghan is almost finished. I will complete the other one more quickly," said Maia.

"I'll help install the medical equipment when it arrives," said Jake. "I've been in so many hospitals, I think I could do a better job than many of the doctors out there!"

David smiled, and listened to them making plans. He wondered if he should tell Mishina and Billie. The women were in a facility in Arizona. Henry already had power of attorney to treat them medically. Mishina was a diabetic who was able to control her sugar with medication, and Billie had successfully fought cancer. Both women had mobility issues. The room was just off the solarium, and the Owl Pack was very ready to have them move in. David and Henry had already built some ramps, and there was even a little breakroom for the nurses.

He held up a hand as they wound down and said, "You might want to wait until the medical equipment is installed," he said.

"Great! When will it get here?" asked Vu.

David pulled out his phone and sent a text. “Owl Pack is overjoyed. ETA on medical equipment?”

“Two to five days. The order was already assembled, just waiting to ship. The locked medical supply cabinet will get in at the end of the week. Bed comes in tomorrow!” texted Henry.

David smiled at Henry's enthusiasm. "Bed comes tomorrow, everything total by end of the week."

Vu made a happy dance in her chair. “Can we bring them here by next week?" she asked.

"Don't see why not," said David.

"We need a pool," said Jake. "It's the best exercise for our old bones."

"You gonna pay for it?" asked Carl. Both men laughed.

"Actually," said David, "that's a great idea. But, like you've said, expensive." He thought a minute. "I've heard of using a shipping container for that. I even heard they use dumpsters for that. Line them, then install a water filtration system."

Vu, the ex-librarian, was delighted. She pulled it up. "About two thousand for the container, double that for digging a hole and plopping it in, moving it, and filling it with water. And we need to keep it inside, unless we want to have the water evaporate all summer long, and not be able to swim in winter."

"We can add on to this room," said Jake. "And, yeah, our sales are actually pretty good. We really can build it ourselves, without dipping into farm money."

"Don't forget our horse investments," said Vu. The Owl Pack paid for some of the care, feeding, and vet costs of the rescues, in exchange for a percentage of the profit when a fully trained, healthy horse or pony was sold. Plus, most of us get paid for making the eBooks."

"So, do it," said David. He grinned. "It will be good medicine for this house." He stood, and said, "I will bring more tea."

"Make it a strong one," said Jake. "Not this frou-frou stuff."

David smiled. "I've got Korean wedding tea that will curl your toes. Tastes nice, but the caffeine level will keep you awake for hours."

"Sounds great!" said Jake. "Let's do this!"

David made the tea, dropped it off, and found Henry in front of the fire, typing madly. "The Owl Pack is having a dumpster or shipping container pool built next to their solarium, and enclosing it."

"Excellent!" Henry said. He stopped typing, stared off into space. "They'll technically own part of the house. We must discount their room and board."

"Five percent?" asked David.

"Seven," said Henry.

"I'll tell them," said David. "Would you like some more tea?"

"Nope," said Henry. "Thank you, love." He smiled beatifically, then started typing madly again.

David went back to the solarium. He waited politely until Jake was finished writing costs on the whiteboard. "Henry says you get seven percent off room and board, once you build the pool and enclosure. You'll own part of the house." They all paid into the room and board fund; none wanted to be a burden to society.

"Woo hoo!" said the usually soft-spoken Vu. Everyone laughed.

At the end of the week, David rode with Billie and Mishina in the special medical transportation van. The was room for both women, their IVs, and their medicines. David gave them each a tablet. "They have Netflix," he said. The women were absolutely silent as David helped them turn the tablets on, then he showed them how to use Netflix. He put the wireless earbuds in their ears, and soon both women were having fun watching movies.

They were greeted by --well, everyone on the farm, even the ponies and horses. They day had dawned somewhat warm, so the animals were grazing. The Wolfpack ran out of their house and in front of the horse barn to greet them. Nantan and Chayton struggled to keep up. The Owl Pack stood ready, and Henry and Inola rushed forward to help the technicians move the motorized wheelchairs out of the medical van.

There were balloons and a “Welcome Home” banner. Billie and Mishina put away their tablets and smiled through their tears. Inside, there were muffins, special applesauce ones for diabetics. Then, they were given a tour of the bottom floor in the house, introduced to their day nurse Micah from the res, and wheeled into the solarium. Vu gave them their afghans, and the Owl Pack surrounded them with quiet questions, and love. David brought in a simple chamomile lavender tea with honey, and a second pot of peppermint tea, and left them to chat.

* * *

Bao finished her Mandarin Chinese lesson. She left early; Hu was sleeping with her kindred sister Grace that night, along with the twins. She went to an off-Strip casino and ordered a small steak and potatoes. Her mother shoved Chinese food down her throat all the time, but she loved living in a cosmopolitan city where she could eat anything she wanted. She was exhausted; she and Mama had the twins while Ivy and Callie took turns going snowboarding. They were beautiful babies, but their constant needs made her glad she no longer had an infant to care for. But still, there was a longing that arose in her heart. She loved children, from their first squalls to the teens in the expanding Nighthawks homeschool. She was getting certification online to teach mathematics, her first love, to the children. This tired her as well as exhilarated her; learning in English was difficult, but not an insurmountable problem. She took out her tablet, and read a Chinese education magazine.

Bruiser saw Bao through the glass that divided the restaurant from the rest of the casino. He'd seen her teaching; she was smart, funny, and very good with children. He was hungry, and had been looking for someplace to eat. He didn't want to make her nervous, but she could always ask him to leave.

He went in, waved off the greeter, and went to her table. "Bao," he said, "I saw you as I was walking by."

"Bruiser," she said. "It is difficult to forget your name."

He smiled. "My real name is Benicio. My friends call me Nico."

"Nico," she said, "I just ordered dinner. Would you like to sit?"

"If I make you uncomfortable..."

She laughed, a musical, joyous sound. "No," she said. "I have been around children all of the last year. I welcome speaking to an adult."

He sat, and called over a waitress. "Filet mignon, loaded baked potato, side salad, honey mustard dressing," he said. "And a Coke."

She smiled warmly at him. "Nearly exactly my order. But, I ordered home fries."

He smiled. "They put sour cream, butter, and bacon on the baked potato, so I couldn't resist," he said.

"You know what I do?" he asked.

"What do you do?"

"I work in a construction office, and I'm partway through my degree in construction project management," he said.

"I'm working on a certificate that will let me teach mathematics to the children as well."

"Bet that will relieve Henry and Callie," said Bruiser. He thanked the server for the Coke, and popped the top on the can and poured it over ice.

She laughed. "They're pressuring me to do more certificates."

"How does that work, exactly?" he asked.

She sipped her iced tea. "You pay for a course; study it on your own, then pay to take a test. It adds onto your teaching credentials. Mine is in bilingual education. I teach Chinese as a second language."

"Wow!" said Bruiser. "Bet you could make a lot of money teaching at a high-priced private school, or someplace in San Francisco where there are a lot of Chinese people."

"I also write Mandarin online textbooks, for Chinese learners, and children's stories, primarily translating old stories into kid-friendly language." She smiled and leaned forward. "I'm making a bundle," she said in a stage whisper, then sat back.

He laughed. "Good for you," he said. "What will you do with the money, other than spend it on more education for yourself?"

"I missed the whole snowboarding thing the Nighthawks attended. One, I'm too busy, about to take the test. And two, no interest. I mean, zero. I think I'm going to have Killa and Bonnie, and probably Ajai, build me a Harley. Hu is getting old enough to ride on the back with me. So, I could get a trike, or I could get a sidecar."

"That daughter of yours is a heartbreaker," he said.

"Thank you," said Bao. "She and Grace are joined at the hip. It's like having twins. Squabbling twins. Hu is learning to tell Grace ‘no,’ and Grace hates that particular word."

Bruiser laughed, and they were silent as they fell on their salads like starving people. The server took away their plates. "Sidecar sounds good," he said. "But, you can't lean into the turns."

Bao nodded. "That's fun. Ivy's taken me on her bike. I love the curves."

"From what I hear, Hu stays with Ivy and Callie a couple days a week."

"Split custody," said Bao, nodding. "Ivy and Callie took on Hu when I was still in China. Amazing women. The girls became inseparable, so we parent them together."

"So, why not have the bike be just for you?"

Bao stared at him, stunned. "That's kind of... anti-Chinese. We're kinda all about the family." She grinned wickedly. "I've been thinking of building my mother a little house in the back, or adding onto the duplex. Make it a triplex. Anyway, I need time as a mom, just me and the kids. Hu gets special time with me, and I'd like that to be just me. First, I can build onto the house, and piss off my mom by getting the Harley. She'd move in out of irritation."

Bruiser laughed. "My Mamacita sticks to me like glue. My brother Miko died. Drug overdose, got hooked on pain pills after he hurt his back."

"I'm sorry," said Bao. "My husband took a fall. He was working very far away, trying to earn money for us."

"That's terrible," said Bruiser. They were quiet as the server dropped off their steaks. Nico ate a piece. "My god," he said, after cutting off and eating a piece of his steak. "Wonderful steak."

Bao nodded. "I come here when I can get out of sticky mother fingers. My dragon mother runs a Chinese restaurant. I’m glad she works long hours, or she'd be dead by now. Traditional Chinese mothers are called dragon mothers, and they push their daughters toward excellence."

"Seems like you're already there," said the impressed Nico.

"I know!" said Bao. "But getting her to stop constantly criticizing me is difficult. She learned it from her mother," said Bao, gesturing with her steak knife. "I get that. But I'm beginning to want to kill her. I definitely need my alone time."

Nico froze. "I'm sorry, I..."

Bao stopped him with a look. "I need non-critical adults in my life."

"I think those are called friends," he said.

She sighed. "I had good friends in China, but I moved past them, you know? Made it out of the small town, lived hand to mouth. I still write and email, but it's hard. Ivy, Callie and I mostly talk about the girls."

"You need girlfriends," he said. "Adult ones."

"Exactly," said Bao.

"You came to the right place," said Nico. "First of all, I just became a Nighthawk, and got out of the Iron Knights. Those guys can be pretty intense; most are ex-military or adrenaline junkies. I like things a little calmer, these days. Secondly, I have a sister named Lucia. She's warm and friendly. She'll get you hooked up with her eclectic band of friends."

"Good," said Bao. She smiled. "Want my phone number?"

"Absolutely," said Nico. He couldn't wipe his fingers and get his phone out of his pocket fast enough.

They ordered dessert and espresso; apple pie for him, flourless chocolate cake for her. He pulled up a picture of a motorcycle on his cell phone.

"This is mine," he said, showing her a black and chrome Harley. He took back his phone and pulled up some pictures. "These three are great women's bikes," he said, showing her one in burnt orange, one crimson, and one in a mesmerizing electric blue.

"This one," she said, pointing to the crimson bike. "Inscribe some Chinese characters on the side, like the ones for energy and change, and it would be amazing."

He texted the bike picture to Killa to get a quote. "The price will be a bit steep, because Killa and Ghost both rock, but it will be worth it."

"How about the extension to my duplex?" She called up the house on Google Earth. He stared at it a while, took down the address, and said, "I can come by tomorrow, give you a quote. Since you're sometimes watching Ivy and Callie's new baby, we can install a nursery in your mom's old room, and a playroom in her segment."

"Bless you," said Bao. "Another excuse to get her to move out. I love her, but I don't want to end up killing her."

"I feel your pain. The way Mamacita Picado meddles, it's an art form," he said. "Half guilt, half control freak."

He got a text. "They have one there," he said, stupified. "A crimson one. Some lady ordered it, then her son came home a mess from overseas, and she had to bow out. Killa says they didn't weld on the gas cover. Text her the Chinese characters, and she'll get it done for you. Some guy named Yi does it for them." He snorted. "Didn't think Chinese characters on Harleys would be that popular. Tattoos, yes. But on bikes?" He smiled at the next text. "You get a discount, because she'd already paid for the labor." He held up his phone to show her the price.

Bao took down Killa's number, and texted her with an “okay.” She was so excited by the text back that she danced in her chair. Nico laughed.

"They can have it ready by the end of the week."

"You have the funds that soon?" Nico asked.

"Absolutely," said Bao, and texted Killa the go-ahead. "Hu's college funds are already locked and loaded."

"Locked and loaded?" said Nico. "You've been around the Nighthawks too much."

"No kidding," said Bao. "I need a vacay."

Nico nodded. "So do I. Saddest damn year of my life, burying my brother. Need to have some fun."

"Let's go on a ride when I get her," said Bao.

"You've named the bike, haven't you?" said Nico. He waited until Bao found a picture online, and sent it to Killa.

"Dragon," said Bao. "You build me that addition, then I get to be the dragon for once." Nico laughed. They set up a time, and Nico walked her to her car. "See you tomorrow," she said.

He smiled. "Absolutely," he said.

He knew she worked swing shift, so he took an early lunch the next day and went out to the house. He did a lot of measurements.

"What do you think?" asked Bao, handing him a sealed coffee cup.

"Thanks," he said, tasting it. "Wow," he said, "you make great coffee."

"You learn, being around Ivy," said Bao.

"I think it's already been graded, and you just need a concrete pad to get started. Then, a simple one-story addition. Kitchen, one and a half baths, bedroom, office, playroom."

"The office is a nice touch," said Bao.

He showed her the existing plans, and his addition that was a little smaller than the duplex halves. He showed her his estimate, then said, "I added a thirty percent fudge factor. This kind of thing, you can do a pour, then wait, do framing and the roof, then wait. Then, electrical and pipes, then insulation and Sheetrock. Then, paint, carpet or tile, fixtures, and cabinets. Interior design stuff. Essentially, pay as you go."

"May have to do that at the end, but I have enough for the first two."

His eyes goggled. "Even with the Harley?"

She laughed. "My mother makes a bundle on that restaurant of hers. Wildly popular. Did you think she wouldn't contribute?"

"I thought you said she wouldn't want to do this." He rubbed his forehead. "Or insinuated it."

"She will when she sees this plan," Bao said. "Do it, now. How much is the first segment? The pour?" He quoted her a price. "Let's go do a money transfer," she said. "My bank branch is just around the corner."

He sent a text to his business partner, Tito. “We need a pour. Adding onto Bao's house, the side of the duplex opposite Ivy and Callie.” He sent the plan he'd drawn up at two in the morning, the night before.

“Doable,” texted back Tito. “Can start the pour in two days. I will set it up now.”

“Getting a money transfer for everything through framing and the roof,” texted Nico.

“Good. Framers were getting antsy about work. So were the roofers --just did the Admiralty Road house, and nothing on the books until March for them.” Nico could practically hear Tito's sigh of relief.

“On my way to get the money,” Nico texted, walking with Bao to the bank.

“You are my best bud,” texted Tito. Nico laughed.

They banged out the pour at the end of the next day, after Nico swung back to get Callie and Ivy's approval. They did more than approve, they gushed.

"Dragon Mama's starting to make me want to kill her, too," complained Ivy. "She tells me one more time how to hold the babies, she's dragon toast." Nico laughed.

Callie nodded. "Dragon Mama's trying to tell me how to teach Hu. I. Am. A. Teacher. My actual job." She burped Aiden, then handed him to Ivy.

She took Kiya, and popped a bottle in her mouth. Ivy took Aiden and put him in his bouncy chair. He squealed with laughter and tried to eat his fingers.

"I've got an electronic form here. If you can both sign," said Nico. Both women signed with their fingers on his tablet. He said, "Great! Gotta go." He and Bao got out quickly before getting ensnared by baby love, and before the girls went out of their room and started to bother Bao.

Bao said, "Want some lunch? I'm buying."

"Gotta get this pour rocking," said Nico. "I barely have time for Sonic."

"Sonic it is," said Bao.

He put her on the back of his bike; she had been so excited that she had bought a helmet and full leathers that morning. They had chicken strips, fries, and chocolate shakes, and laughed until Nico realized he had to be in a meeting. He dropped her off, and praised his good fortune all the way back to the office.

Tito, the concrete guys, and the roofer, were all at the office. They clapped and cheered when he walked in, and plied him with Coke. Tito had been busy; he put the plans onto blueprints.

"Bobbi got the original plans from the city, so it's to scale," he said, and rolled them out.

"I love you," said Nico. Everyone laughed.

The concrete guys headed over to get supplies and prep the pour, and the framers calculated what they needed and headed out as well.

"Those guys are way too excited," said Nico, as he finished his Coke, crushed the can, and did a perfect three-pointer into the recycling bin. "They're liable to go over and frame while the concrete is still not cured."

"That's why the pour is tonight," said Tito. "Got the lights. Oscar will bring over the generator, set it up. Wind is calm; be good to do it before they freeze their balls off."

"Alrighty then," said Nico. "Let's get some other shit done. How's the Admiralty Road situation?"

They were rehabbing a huge home, a complex-owned basketball court next door; infuriating the owner with the sound of dribbling basketballs day and night. They needed soundproofing for the basketball court, the tennis court behind it, and their sixteen-year-old son's rock group. They also added onto the house, with a game room for the teens and a huge office for the mother; a tycoon who bought, sold, and traded slot machines for a living. The dad painted, so a painting studio got tacked onto the plans. They were working on interiors.

Tito caught him up on the project. "Jack's got the studio windows in. The dad loves it, says it has 'perfect light,' whatever that means."

"South-facing windows," said Nico. "More light for more of the day."

"Oh-kay. Well, we've got the game room painted, lots of Smurf cable for the electronics." Electronics cable was blue, hence the name. "The boys are pushing for a wet bar, but the mama said no. Got them the little refrigerators; two, one in each corner. Pool table, foosball, the gaming systems will all be set up by tomorrow. The futons are going in today, plus the beanbag chairs."

"You know one or both of them will move in," said Nico. "Those futons are a siren song to teens."

"Absolutely," said Tito. "So, almost done. Let's get the rest of this plan for this addition up and running. You said this is for Bao's mom?"

"She's apparently become a hyper-controlling dragon mother," said Nico. "We need to make this as inviting for a Chinese dragon mama as it can be."

Tito smiled. "Let's call Yi."

"The guy that paints Chinese characters on bikes?"

"One and the same." He held up a hand. "Don't get it, not my jungle, not my monkeys. Anyhoo, he's an expert on Chinese Feng Shui. He'll make Dragon Mama feel serenity, get her off her daughter's back."

"Feng... oh, the Chinese interior decorating for luck."

"I'll send him the plans," said Tito. "Be a bitch to have to reframe the doors if they were the wrong way on the dragon's back." At Nico's blank stare, he said, "The world lays on the back of a dragon."

"Alrighty then," said Nico. They both smiled. Tito sent the plans and photos of the site to Yi, then called him to position the addition on the correct spot of the dragon's back.

"New life brings joy, peace, love, and sometimes heartache.”