Xenia and Bob ate lunch together, despite the flood of paperwork. Since the scene had been processed and the shooter was dead, the scene was released. A highly intelligent Tamlyn earmarked some of the donation money coming in, to cover all the overtime for the police, firefighters, paramedics, and public-space cleanup after the shooting, including removing cement stained with blood. Essentially, because that wouldn't pressure-wash out. The rest went to the victims. At nearly half a million each, no one would be hurting. Francine and Omar's insurance kicked in, and a little bit of the donations went to them to cover anything insurance wouldn't cover. The boarded-up bloody windows were replaced by bulletproof glass, donated by a "concerned citizen." The booths, counter seating, and the counter itself, were all replaced.

The lottery raised a small fortune, even with disclosing that the diner was the site of a mass shooting. Tallee Fith, a forty-year-old fry cook and ex-cocktail waitress, along with her twenty-two-year-old daughter Kema, and her daughter's six-year-old child Dee won the lottery to buy the property.

Xenia went to meet them. "Do you understand what happened here?" Xenia asked. Tallee was short, African-American, and wide-eyed, with red lipstick and an even redder top. She wore black jeans.

Tallee was looking at a mockup of the menu, one that had most of the previous food on it, with the relatively minor additions of collard greens and cornbread as sides.

"Horrible thing," she said. "But folks still need to eat good food. And I know how to make good food. Been talking to the previous staff. Some wanna come back, some don't. Got applications, half-out the back door. People need jobs, and I can pay."

"How?" asked Xenia, curious.

"My ex-husband. He married me young, divorced me, but then Benny came around again, a changed man. I saved my money, sent my daughter to school, even with her having a baby young, like me. Her young man done run off, too. Idiot. Anyway, I got a business degree, and so did Kema. Did it at home, on the computer I bought her."

"And Benny?" asked Xenia, caught up in the story.

"Idiot up and died on me. Had two, real-good years, though. Was real-good to all three of us. Left us insurance. I couldn't both buy the diner and pay salaries for the first few months, though. Not without going so into debt I couldn't make it work, especially with some people being too traumatized to come back in here." Tallee looked at Xenia. "Weren't you here?"

"Right there," said Xenia, pointing at the booth near the kitchen pass-through; the one with a wall partially blocking the window. "Only reason I'm alive is that wall there. Checked it out; had six bullet holes."

"Well, I'll be," said Kema, who was rolling silverware.

Her daughter was working on a laptop, singing to herself, at a nearby booth. Mother and daughter both had cinnamon skin, warm caramel eyes, and eldritch faces, long and lean, nothing like Tallee's round face and curves.

"Musta been terrible, Sheriff."

"Stove's working," said Tallee. "Business license is in order, if you want to see it. Health inspection's already done. Food's just going to go to waste if no one eats it." She looked at Kema. "Wanna open early, girl? Was gonna do it tomorrow, but tonight's good enough."

"What about the rest of the staff?" asked Xenia.

"That would be us," said Francine, with Omar, coming out from the kitchen. They hugged Xenia. "We couldn't just leave," explained Francine. "We want to kinda train these newcomers on how to do it, keep it going." She put on her apron, and took out a pencil and paper. "You want to do it, or should I?" she asked Tallee.

Tallee took the pencil and paper. "What'll it be?"

Xenia sat down on the stool as Kema hopped to the window, and turned the Closed sign around to Open.

"One scrambled egg with a little cheddar. And grits, home fries, and a chocolate milk."

"Coming right up," said Tallee. She put the order on the spindle and dinged the bell. "One egg number one," she said, and Omar smiled as he walked into the kitchen and put on his apron. Kema rushed to give Xenia a placemat and silverware. She started setting up the counter.

The door jangled, and Bob walked in. "You eating without me, wife?" he said. He walked over to her and kissed her. Dee giggled. "You must be Dee," said Bob. "I'm Bob, and this is my wife Xenia."

"Warrior princess," said Dee, and smiled a gap-toothed smile.

"Yes, she is," said Bob. He looked at Tallee. "Tallee, isn't it? I'll have a pecan waffle, side of bacon; crispy, and some of that chocolate milk you just poured for my wife."

"On it, Sheriff," said Tallee, and put the order in the window, and dinged the bell. "Pecan number three, side crispy bacon," she said to Omar.

Cynthia Bell from the bank came in. "I was mighty hungry. Good to see you're open. Sheriffs," she said, nodding at them.

"Cynthia," said Bob, "how are things at the bank?"

"Good," she said. "We suddenly have a lot of money to manage and pay out." Cynthia sat down at the counter. "BLT and fries, and a cola."

"Coming right up," said Tallee, and put the order up, and rang the bell.

"How are things in town, Sheriff?" asked Cynthia.

"Well," said Bob, "the paperwork's been ugly, and it's giving me a fat... um, behind." Xenia and Cynthia chortled, and laughed harder when Dee gave out a belly laugh. "Nothing gets by that one," said Bob. "We'll have to remember that little pitchers have big ears."

"How are things on the out-of-town part?" asked Cynthia.

"The usual, except for the mound of leftover paperwork," said Xenia. "It would give me a big behind, too, but I just take it with me on the highway. Do it at the rest stops I inspect."

One by one, people came in. Jasper, the dishwasher with Tourette's, gave an expletive-laden hello, and rushed to the back to begin running the industrial dishwasher. "Don't you repeat anything Jasper says," said Bob to Dee. "He's got a medical condition, and can't help what he says."

"Mama already told me," said Dee, giggling.

"Did you clock in?" Tallee asked Jasper.

"Fuck up yum yes," said Jasper, amid the clinking of silverware.

Bob and Xenia tried to hold back. Cynthia burst out with, "Nice weather we're having today," before all three dissolved into helpless laughter.

"What's so damn funny?" asked Trader, the guy who ran the gift shop. His real name was Jaime, but since he'd gotten beaten up for having that name as a kid, he had kept his nickname and held onto it like glue.

"Not much," said Bob. "Except for the lady who answered the door in nothing at all. Said she was sky-clad for a ritual. Her neighbors called about smoke. Turned out it was incense."

Trader smiled. He turned to Tallee. "Who the hell are you?" he asked.

"Tallee," she said. "Who the hell are you?"

"Trader," he said. "Woman, I am hungrier than a bear in spring."

"Came to the right place," she said. "What'll it be?"

"Reuben sandwich piled high, double order of fries, keep the coffee coming, and two slices of the key lime pie I see, in that there pie case."

"Just give him a carafe of coffee," said Xenia, sipping her milk. "Man will go through the whole thing. Heavy drinker of the coffee bean."

They all got their food, and fell upon it like wolves. One by one, people straggled in, tourists wearing turquoise with loud voices, and townspeople coming in, out of curiosity or actual hunger. Francine took one half of the diner, and Kema the other. Tallee took the counter and used the cash register.

Kim, the other cook, came in, dressed in her cook's whites. "Now, why did my son Herve tell me you were open, and you didn't call me?"

"Sorry," bellowed Omar, from the back. "Got too busy to call."

Kim snorted. "What's the sense in that?"

By the time Xenia and Bob left, the place was packed, and people immediately took their seats at the counter. They paid and left.

They both got around the building into the little alley with the dumpster before they held out their hands to each other. They were both shaking uncontrollably. "Well," said Xenia, "that went easier than I thought."

"I had trouble eating," said Bob. "Damn near expected gunfire."

"Be easier the next time," said Xenia.

"Dinner's on the other side of town," said Bob.

"Agreed," said Xenia. "Pulled pork sandwiches at Vern's Barbecue?"

"You know it," said Bob. They hugged, kissed, and smiled sadly at the memorial at their feet. It had been moved around the corner, with pictures, candles, notes, and stuffed animals. "Too much senseless death," said Bob.

"If I could raise the dead, I'd pull up Baby Avery and plug him again, this time in the face," said Xenia.

"Amen to that," said Bob. They got in their cars, and went back to their ass-numbing paperwork catchup.

Tamlyn found them at the barbecue place that night after work. "Thank goodness I guessed right. If it were me, I'd eat dinner as far away from the diner as possible after going back in today." She sat down and ordered herself a pulled pork sandwich, with corn, cinnamon apples, cornbread with honey butter, and a Coke.

"Won't you join us?" said Xenia in a saccharine-sweet voice.

Tamlyn snorted. "Was going to ask if you had a flashback or something, but you just get snippy when riled." Bob smiled beatifically, then ate a rib. "And you get quiet," said Tamlyn, "before you explode like a volcano."

Xenia and Bob both made explosion noises and threw their hands out. Tamlyn laughed. “We’re alright,” said Bob.

"So, how's the downtown sheriff thing going?"

"Finally," said Bob, "caught up on the paperwork today." Both Xenia and Tamlyn mimed shock.

Xenia pointed a fry at him. "You've got a better admin than I do. Patty is shocking, even though she wasn't there at the diner when it happened. Jumpy as."

"It's not because of the diner shooting," said Tamlyn. "Her boyfriend Iggy's been drinking too much. From what I can tell, he's just obnoxious, not abusive. But, that's a fine line."

"I'll talk to her," said Xenia.

"How's the little one?" asked Tamlyn.

"The one at the restaurant is super-cute. I expect she'll be at school tomorrow, so sightings from now on may be rare," said Xenia. "Mine is fine. Heard a fast heartbeat two days ago."

"Excellent," said Tamlyn. Her food arrived. "Let's eat up." And so, they did.

When they got home, Bob and Xenia shed their leathers and boots. "I want to lay on the floor," she said, as she shuffled to the gun locker to lock up her gun and badge.

Bob smiled. "If we get enough clothes off, we can sleep here. In front of the fire."

She stared at the cold hearth. "What fire?" she asked, stripping out of her uniform. She threw it on the back of a chair.

"The one I'm going to make."

Bob knelt, and put in the junk mail kindling, the kind without any plastic windows on the envelope, on the bottom. He then made a neat pile with the logs, and lit the fire. Xenia randomly threw blankets and pillows on the floor, then lurched to the bathroom. She washed her face and hands, and then lurched back. Bob made a nest out of the blankets and pillows by pulling out the couch cushions, then piling on their sleeping bags, then adding the pillows and blankets.

Xenia fell gratefully onto the nest. "Thanks, Robin," she said. He smiled at being called a bird and peeled out of his own uniform, and hung it on a chair.

He locked up the gun and badge, hung up his equipment belt, and stripped down to his long underwear, his erection obvious.

Xenia looked down at him, then smiled sadly. "Sorry love, but I'm about to sleep sitting up."

He smiled. "Maybe tomorrow." They got under the covers and the first sleeping bag, and Bob held his wife close. "I'm sure we did have to go to the diner. Just to put it behind us. But it was wonderful, and it sucked rocks at the same time." He kissed her head.

"I had to go," she explained. "It's just a building, and Baby Avery is dead."

"His dad is a wreck," said Bob.

"I notice that his mother's supposed friends titter over her loss, like birds talking about another bird; but no tears. I wonder why that is?"

Bob sighed. "I desperately hope that when I buy it, there will be actual tears, not gossip. How fucking sad."

"Control is a great way to drive everyone away from you screaming," said Xenia. "You've got to take control of your life, and make things easier for yourself. But, other people are not robots or puzzle pieces. They don't fit into molds or become your puppets."

Bob grimaced. "Puppet people are so weak that they don't have the ability to fight a controller. I think Marcel Avery started out as puppet of his mother, and was unwilling to accept when other people didn't respond like puppets to him. Like the way people responded to his mother. He expected the world to be the powerful and powerless, and when he felt powerless, he tried to find power in those stupid video games."

"Power," said Xenia, "is getting people to do what you want, but that involves working in their best interest, to help them. He could never see that aspect of it. He thought power was control, without doing anything to benefit the people around you."

"Enlightened self-interest," said Bob. "Makes the world go ‘round." He kissed his wife.

"So, it was your enlightened self-interest that got me this little nest?" asked Xenia.

"Well, yes," he said. "I get cuddling. Cuddling is good." He kissed her; long, low and sweet.

* * *

Xenia felt it in her bones, melting the cold and exhaustion. The ass-numbing paperwork so boring she had to blast music to stay awake to fill it out. The accident she'd been called out to was unfortunately caused by a woman texting. It killed her only daughter. The house fire was so far away from anything that the house was consumed before the firefighters could put it out.

A woman lost her livelihood and her home at the same time, and didn't have homeowner's insurance to get it all back. The little black mutt she saved from a coyote, and gave to Tina Trevion, who had just lost her ancient Golden. Then there was the drunken rancher who flipped his truck twice, and decided to walk himself to the hospital in the middle of the night. He'd been lucky that a college student (with a huge project to complete) had left to get supplies at an all-night Wal-Mart. He had found the man by the side of the road, half-dead from internal injuries. The rancher survived; the student got a writeup in the paper for being a hero. Overshadowed by the mass shooting, but a writeup nonetheless.

Bob found her tight shoulders and dug into them. She held up a hand, sat up, took off her shirt and bra, flipped over, and let him do his work. The man had amazing hands, digging in the right places, a light touch in others. She thought she would fall asleep, but he was obviously aroused, and sex was the ultimate rail against the darkness. Making love, she thought. The ultimate fuck-you to Baby Avery and all the twisted fucks like him. If you can still love, then you can make yourself as far away from being like him as you can get.

She felt Bob work his way down to her ass, and she moved back into his hands, sure that she needed him as much as he needed her. He responded; his touch moving from healing to sexual. He wrapped his arms around her and cradled her breasts in his hands. He caressed them as he kissed the back of her neck. She responded as she always did, with a clawing, aching need. She turned her face, received his kiss on her lips, sweet as mesquite honey. She turned, and he kissed and sucked her breasts, making her cry out with pleasure. He slid his fingers down, gently caressing the soft thatch of her hair. He touched her button, pressing down on it, making her arch her back.

"Found the right place," he said, breathing a kiss into her mouth.

"Damn right," she said, kissing him back.

They both peeled out of their long and regular underwear. He slid into her, his voice gentle, whispering his love into her ears while he kissed her neck. She clenched on him, making him groan into her mouth. She wrapped her legs around him and grabbed his ass, and he plunged into her, again and again. She screamed as she came, deafening him, as he rode the wave, crashing into her with the force of his climax. He slid out, got a wet wipe, and cleaned them both up, then got up to dispose of the trash. He went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He brought back cherry water, and they drank, rinsing out their mouths. He slid under the covers, and held her by firelight.

"Bob," said Xenia, her sleepy head on his shoulder as he ran his finger up and down her spine.

"What, babe?" he asked.

"I think we did pretty well during the mass shooting. I also think that my Valkyrie sisters helped us out a lot."

"Fuck yes and absolutely," said Bob.

"And, it shouldn't be an every-time thing, but only when the need is great."

"What? Calling the Valkyries?" asked Bob.

"Exactly."

"Can't think of anyone else I'd rather have watching my back." "Exactly," said Xenia.

"Unofficial first responders," said Bob.

"Won't work every time, but it could help."

He laughed. "I was gonna say, we need to get them trained, but in what? Lots of them are ex-military. They would be welcomed on any scene."

"Hmm," she said.

Bob stroked her hair. "Sleep, love. We've got a warm fire and, shockingly, two days off. Let's spend tomorrow in our nest."

She made a noise that sounded like "Uumf."

"I'll take that as a yes," he said. He kissed her hair again, held her close, and slid into sleep.

In the morning, he cooked bacon and eggs and baked biscuits out of a can, and made little sandwiches. He poured the orange juice, and got out the trays they used for snuggling in bed. He fed them both, and then they fell asleep in each other's arms again, after a long, slow bout of making love. The kind where they looked into each other's eyes as she rode him. He cleaned them both up with a wet wipe, and was snoring into her hair before she had time to close her own eyes.

They awoke hours later, the sky a dull gray past the blinds. "Gonna snow soon," said Bob.

"Let it," said Xenia.

They made love again, so slowly it was like standing still, then a little movement, then still again. This time, Xenia cleaned them up, and brought out clean, regular, long underwear after a wet wipe sponge bath. She grabbed her cell phone, ignored her messages, and used the app to send for pizza with bacon and black olives. They ate on the trays by the fire, and Bob fed it with logs to keep it going as they gorged on pizza.

They watched stupid movies and television shows on Netflix, halting to sleep, make love, or, once, to slide into a hot bath together. No one called, came by, or rang the doorbell, except the pizza guy, and the Chinese delivery later on. They ordered enough Chinese food for ten people, and ate it all day long the next day. They read stupid books, and touched each other everywhere. For once the nightmares were silent, choosing to bide their time and attack later. They put the hell of the mass shooting out of their minds, and spent two languid days in each other's arms.

On Monday morning, they left before dawn, and after a very early McDonald's run for breakfast sandwiches. It was then that they crunched over the snow in their county SUVs to their respective offices. Both of them hit their in-boxes, fueled on cola. As soon as another officer showed up, Xenia went out on the highway, a pile of paperwork in her briefcase, and Bob, worked phones and got the mess on his desk under control.

Xenia set up a speed trap, and nailed a few commuters going so far over the limit even they admitted they deserved their tickets. She also got a lot done, filling out boxes of forms, signing things, and creating a stack of “Things to Read Later,” like her law enforcement magazines. She actually had a file of reading material in her car; a second briefcase. The stack of new reading material went in there. Once she got her quota --in the first hour, no less, she circled back to drop off the finished paperwork. After that, she went to grab another Monday-morning stack from her inbox, and to grab two cans of caffeine-free Coke from the tiny refrigerator in the office.

On the way back out of town, Bob stopped by Tina's house. The little black dog with dusty, matted fur, was now clean. He’d been watered, loved, and was attacking a green stuffed toy, throwing it with his head, and chasing after it.

Tina laughed. "I show houses with him in my arms. I swear, I sold two houses because of Rascal here."

"Good name," said Bob. She petted the dog, and headed out.

Undine Taylor was going through her house, with boxes in the back of her ancient blue pickup truck ready in case she found something.

"Where you staying?" asked Bob.

"The rental house Jim and Sarissa have," said Undine. She maneuvered her big bulk past a burned piece of charred wood. "Small for me, but I've been on myself for years to lose weight. Gonna happen now, I expect." She sighed. "Not a damn bit of yarn. The yarn was stored in them divided wooden boxes. Went up into smoke." She sighed again.

"Friends in Vegas got themselves a bunny farm. Angora rabbits."

"Yeah?" said Undine.

"They sell to a farm where they raise goats and alpacas. Work with that hair, too. Make sweaters. Got two more alpacas, and built a bunny hutch. Want to raise angora rabbits too. And, they have a long winter. Make goat cheese, and build straps for boxes that go on the back of Harleys for dogs, to keep them safe."

Undine smiled. "Sounds awesome."

"They live on the res outside Vegas," he said. "You're half Paiute, so you could maybe help them out for a while, ‘till you get on your feet."

"Well," said Undine, "I got nowhere else to go, and nothing else to do. I thought I would do some rag weaving, buy myself the ugliest fricking clothes at Goodwill, cut them up, make rugs and stuff."

"Be a good side business," said Xenia. "But you gotta lose the weight, not let your diabetes kill you. Doctor visits ate up the money for the homeowner's insurance, didn't it?"

"Don't belabor the point, Sheriff. I caused my own damn problems, and yeah, I'll get healthy. No choice now. Credit card is nearly maxed out; spent the money on new yarn. Lovely stuff." Her huge blue eyes were filled with tears.

"Go," said Xenia, handing over a slip of paper. "They'll be expecting you. Sell this land."

"For next to nothing," said Undine. "Sorry, whining. Should be glad I'm alive. Space heater done took out my house, and my life's work. Priceless rugs in there," she said. "From my mama. Should have sold them. Then, they would still be in the world."

Xenia hugged Undine. "Let's check this out while it's still daylight. Need help?"

"Would you?" asked Undine. Xenia grabbed her flashlight, and they found some rugs that had fallen under a wall, making Undine cry with joy. "My mama's rugs," said Undine. "Two out of five, but that's good."

"Excellent," said Xenia. They put what little they found in the boxes, and Xenia handed out wet wipes. "Let's clean up, and I'll follow you to Emma's." Emma's was a little soup, salad, snack, and sandwich place along the highway.

"Let's do it," said Undine. Xenia paid for their meals, and they ate clam chowder and rolls with butter, and Caesar salad, and tiny cucumber sandwiches. Xenia hugged the woman, and sent her on her way.

Expansion

Tito thought he was going to die. Yes, he desperately needed to keep all his people busy; regular workers, day laborers, and the Wolfpack, who were somewhere in between. Some of the "graduated" Wolfpack became his, permanently, but they were all going to school, so they were part-timers at best. Great on weekends when he needed nearly-slave labor to transform the condos, townhomes, apartment buildings, duplexes, and houses into salable or rentable properties. Properties needed to be examined, bought, re-conditioned, and either sold or rented as soon as possible, something a tad difficult in Vegas' soft market. He had the capacity to make profits of fifty thousand dollars or more, but he couldn't fail and lose fifty thousand, either. So, he was careful. His joining the Nighthawks had been an enormous boom, and why he was able to be his own small real estate magnate. He got work from the Nighthawks, Valkyries, and the Iron Knights, especially at slow times of the year, so he built up a sizable investment egg for the properties. This was completely separate from the funds he needed for his kids' education; they were all fully funded. His partner, Bruiser, also called Nico, the tiny guy who never got in fights except to protect abused people, ran his own arm of the "turn and burn" business. That’s what they liked to call it. They rehabbed and sold or rented a lot in the winter, because they had time to do projects right, except in high winds or the once-a-year Vegas rain. During that time, it made water run twelve feet deep in some of the washes.

But now, the Goat Girls wanted an apartment over their little goat and alpaca barn for a new hire. Henry wanted to add onto the sorting center to get two more apartments. They had three nurses with the Owl Pack now, and even the “Great House,” as Inola called it, needed expanding. The Owl Pack also wanted to hire a company to install a pool made out of a dumpster or a shipping crate, and enclose it in glass, making another greenhouse. Yeah, he could do it all. And, keep up with his turn-and-burn business, and keep everyone employed. But, he needed a damn clone. Bruiser needed one, too. He needed a project manager, or two. Or three, in the summer. Or a coordinator.

He called UNLV, and talked to their Career Counseling Department. "Well, we can post it," said one very eager guy named Eric. "Or, I can have you speak to Missy. Her dad's in construction, and she's only one class away from her master's in business administration. I know she took project management."

"Doesn't her dad want her in his business?"

The ever-positive Eric laughed. "They get along like oil and fire. Boom! He's a raving control freak, and she's very independent. He hates that about her."

"How do you know all this?" asked Tito.

"We're fuck buddies," said Eric.

"Too much information," said Tito.

Eric laughed. "She'll tell you the same thing."

"Sounds like a Valkyrie," said Tito.

"That motorcycle thing she goes to? Yeah. She loves that Harley of hers!"

"Tell her to come by the office," said Tito. "We may have something she'll like doing."

Rota came up with a young woman. She was blessed with gorgeous blonde hair in the complicated braids on one side of her head. The kind that the Valkyries liked, the other hanging razor-straight. She had suntanned skin, and a rosy, bright complexion. Her eyes were a sea green, and she had a smile that could stop traffic.

"Why didn't you tell me you needed someone?" demanded Rota, affronted.

"I didn't know you knew someone," said Tito, opening his hands in surrender. "Missy?"

"Eir to us," said Rota. "Tito, she's been on construction sites until she was old enough to pick up nails. Tamber Construction."

No wonder TMI Eric said her dad's a dick, thought Tito. "Good outfit," he said.

Eir snorted. "He works too fast. Good work takes time. Pads the estimated time twenty percent; not thirty percent, then rushes at the end to make it up. Shoddy work in some parts."

Couldn't agree more, thought Tito. "We pad around thirty-two percent. Way too many projects. Need super-careful scheduling to make it all work out exactly right. Have quality people here, and lots of willing hands. We keep busy year ‘round, main and side projects."

"Turn and burn?" asked Eir.

"Rentals too," said Tito.

"Gonna need someone to manage that arm of it. Got a sister named Reece. She's in real estate. Not one of us Valkyries, but she's trustworthy. Runs her own real estate business. Rentals can keep her in the black."

Tito said, "Give me her number." Eir gave him the digits. "Your desk is there, two computers; a laptop and a desktop. Two phones, one cell, one landline."

"Get a fucking receptionist," said Eir. "Don't need to be on the property. Can even have someone in India do it for all I care. But someone has to screen out the yahoos. Too damn busy for anything else."

"Hire someone," said Tito.

"On it," said Eir. She walked over to the desk, and opened both computers. She saw the contract, and read it. Rota went over and looked over her shoulder. "Classes Tuesday and Thursday mornings," said Eir. "Only a fifteen-minute drive, so I'll be here by nine thirty those days."

"Eight o'clock class?" asked Tito.

"One seven, one eight," said Eir. "Once I get this place caught up, I reserve the right to do my schoolwork on company time, provided I have no other tasks that need doing."

"Done," said Tito. "You're graduating in a few months, anyway, Eric said."

"Strange guy," said Eir. "But fun."

"Good to know," said Tito. Eir typed and printed an addendum, and they both signed the contract.

Bruiser came in. "We signing stuff?" he asked.

"Our new project manager," said Tito. "Eir. She's a Valkyrie."

"Hot damn," said Bruiser. "Where do I sign?"

It took her less than a day to get some things under control. She set up timelines for each project, and began lining up who would do what from the database of people Tito and Bruiser had so painstakingly built. It included name, number, skill sets, and hire or seasonal. She soon had the sites humming. Projects got completed on time and under budget. For once, Tito didn't feel like he had to be in six places at once.

By the end of the next week, Tanvi, their virtual assistant, answered their main lines in her cultured British accent, and got everything right with only a few bobbles. Her own mother ran a construction company in India, so she knew the lingo. Tanvi loved working at night because she could sleep when her daughter was at school, and her while her husband was at work, in a local hospital.

The whole lined-shipping-crate pool installation went spectacularly well. Both Bruiser and Tito were able to be there. The container had been lined, sealed, and part of the side replaced with glass. Then, the backhoe dug a relatively shallow pit, so the container would be half in, half out. They poured a ramp, and installed a gate and a railing all the way around. The "under deck" had tables and chairs. Then, they enclosed the whole thing with an enclosed patio kit, and added it right to the outside door on the previous greenhouse room. Tito made sure a heater was installed to keep the water at a perfect temperature, in addition to the filtration system. It was a huge hit, and became a favorite place to be, especially at the end of a long day. The Owl Pack used it during the day, "To keep out the riff-raff," they said.

A week later, Henry called Tito. "Got a problem with the pool," he said.

"What's up?" asked Tito. His heart sank. "Did they spring a leak?"

"Opposite problem. Thing's in huge demand. Now, the Wolfpack howlers are demanding their own, and the Owl Pack people want a spa."

"Is there money for that?" asked Tito.

"Unspecified donor," said Henry.

Who the fuck is their donor? wondered Tito. "You got the money, we can build stuff," said Tito.

The stuff for Henry he got done by the end of the month. They had to remove a glass panel from the greenhouse to get the spa in edgewise, then install it, and build another ramp with railings. They couldn't dig another hole easily.

The other pool, behind the Wolfpack dorm, was aboveground too, and was accessed by a door and ramp on the second floor, much to their delight. He took pictures, and got calls from all over Southern Nevada for identical installations.

He was afraid to advertise as a specialist in these types of installations. He wasn't a pool guy or a landscaper. His company did primarily rehabs, not builds, which kept them busy, even in winter. But, installation was so damn easy, even easier if they wanted it above ground. He called the company that sold the lined containers, and their CEO was delighted to subcontract with Tito and Bruiser for installation, especially after he sent them stills and video of the entire install.

Tito had a new side business; he let Eir run with it. The next two installs went so easily and quickly that their cement guy asked to bring on his sister, and do a lot more work. They agreed, and the side business flourished, then doubled when the weather got warmer. They made Eir a partner when she brought in six new clients in one week; she was delighted. She even hired her own virtual assistant, Saumya, who became, as Eir put it, "her second brain." Between Eir and Saumya they caught most errors, conflicts, and snafus before they became major bombs going off in their clockwork schedules.

They made so much money that they were able to build a core pool installations arm run by Eir, an apartment, townhome, and condo rehab arm under Tito, and a house and duplex arm under Bruiser. Dividing it up made sense, and they could all concentrate on one part of the business only. It also meant all three of them could make it home on time, and have time for their rides with the Nighthawks or the Valkyries. They drummed up more business on the rides, purely by accident, by talking about their busy lives. Tito was stunned. He had finally found that balance he had promised his wife so many years ago, and had never achieved. He gave bonus after bonus to Eir, the virtual assistants, and everyone else at the company. They were doing great. He put his own money aside for reinvestment in new properties, and Reece kept haunting real estate auctions for them to buy the best properties at rock-bottom prices.

Tito made sure everyone rotated, taking time off. Burnout at this pace was not an option. He also had to be sure the Wolfpack and former Wolfpack members got their schooling in. To his delight, some of his guys started cross-training, as the Wolfpack did, in order to get more skills. Some even talked about getting certificates or even degrees. Things were looking up.

* * *

Alo sat quietly, waiting for Chandra Wallace, the federal prosecuting attorney, to attack him again. She had black skin, a halo of black twisty hair, and shiny caramel eyes that missed nothing. She was “brilliant,” if she did say so herself. But, her opponent, Bryson "Beemer" Shapiro, was known to be an attack dog, and a brilliant opponent. The fact that two police officers had made critical mistakes that night, and that one had turned out to be a homicidal maniac who almost took out Saber while shooting at Ace, gave him plenty of ammunition. Shaking Alo's story would go a long way to breaking the case, and letting two violent men free. Alo took a sip of water, and relaxed.

"That's it," said Chandra. "Keep that one look on your face, calm. Tell it calmly. Juries like moaning and crying, but not you."

"Okay," said Alo. "I can do that."

"I'm me again, so let's do this. What happened after you left work?"

"Tito, our boss, dropped us off by an ATM so we could make a deposit, and he went to the store around the corner to get some supplies for the party."

"What did you deposit?" asked Chandra.

"We have direct deposit for our paychecks, but we got a bonus for on time and under budget. It was a special check, so we deposited it."

"Did you withdraw any cash?"

"No," said Alo. "Had about twenty in my pocket; so did Ruby. We use our ATM card; easier to keep track of the money that way; harder to spend it on junk."

"Then what happened?"

"These two guys came at us, screaming about us being beaners and wetbacks, stealing jobs from other people. Not even loud whispering, but yelling it at us."

"Are you Mexican-American?" asked Chandra.

"Nope, full-blooded Paiute. That's a First Nation tribe with a reservation just outside Las Vegas."

"What about Ruby?"

"Half Paiute, half Hopi," said Alo.

"And did you steal anyone's job?"

"No, I don't think so. Tito started us on picking up nails, hammering stuff, learning how to measure twice and cut once, that sort of thing. He makes all of us do a stint with Habitat for Humanity for a couple weeks before he lets us onsite, except for cleanup. Then, if he likes our work, we get to rotate around, learning from everyone."

"Like an apprentice," said Chandra.

"Exactly. We got paid, and his regular workers got paid extra for teaching us." He snorted out a laugh. "Got so people fought over who got to train us, until Tito set them straight that he would rotate us through, and only pay the best workers to train us. That got them calmed down."

"So, not a real job. More like an apprenticeship."

"Absolutely, and part-time at that. We still had to pass our GEDs, apply for scholarships, and decide our major or certificate we wanted. And do chores on the farm where we lived."

"Did you live there at the time you were assaulted?"

"No, Ma'am," said Alo. "We moved out into apartments. That's why Tito was getting the stuff. We were going back to the farm for a few days for Winter Solstice."

"So, the men who were yelling at you were not saying anything that was true."

"No, Ma'am. We were confused. I got back-t0-back with Ruby, said we didn't want any trouble."

"You didn't stand in front of her? Protect her?"

Alo shook his head. "She's a Valkyrie, and had been training as one with Ajai and Willow, our friends from the ranch. I kind of hoped she would protect me."

"You felt threatened?"

"One guy finished his beer, and smashed the bottle against the brick wall where the ATM was. The other had something in his hand."

"Was it a sap? A piece of leather, weighted on one end?"

"It looked like a black stick that didn't shine in the light. It was heavy; the man's arm muscles stood out when he held it."

"Then what happened?"

"The guy with the stick thing went after Ruby. He broke her arm when she held it up to protect herself. I heard the bone snap. I kicked the beer bottle out of the other guy's hand. He hit me a few times, but I kept blocking. The other guy twisted around, hit me with the heavy black thing. I felt my wrist break." He held up his cast. "I used my knees, my leverage. I caught his arm and slammed him into the brick wall. I heard Ruby screaming the Valkyrie cry, and the other guy took some swings at her, because I saw the shadow on the ground."

"That's how you saw her arm get broken?"

"Yes," said Alo. "Out of the corner of my eye. The guy hitting me got in some more punches before I got him with my leg and a combination of right-left-right. He went down, and I called 911. Ruby got her guy down, and she took out her phone one-handed. I asked her who she texted, and she said Tito. Then she texted Henry."

"Then what happened?"

"I got the two of us leaning against the wall, away from the bad guys. I turned, and tried to figure out how to get off my leather jacket to get to my shirt to tie up her arm in a sling. She laughed at me, kind of a choking laugh, and said it would be faster to wait for the ambulance. Tito came running up. It felt like ten minutes, but it was probably two. He got us sitting down and looked us over. I think he called Henry too. Then, the cops came, and talked to the guys on the ground, and then they arrested me."

"Wait, what?" said Chandra. "You had a broken wrist, your female co-worker had a broken arm, the bad guys had a sap and a broken beer bottle, and you got arrested?"

"The one that attacked Ruby said it was the other way around, that we attacked them. So, the cop handcuffed me to the gurney that the EMTs put me in."

Chandra said, "What did they do to the other guys?"

"I saw them leading them to their cop cars. Both cops talked about taking statements, then one of them got into the ambulance with me. I asked why I was in a handcuff when the guys attacked me and Ruby, and he told me to shut up. I asked him where they were taking Ruby, and he told me to shut up, and read me my rights. I kept asking about Ruby, and why he had me handcuffed when we were attacked. I told him there must be some sort of record, that ATMs have cameras, and to go look. The whole time to the hospital, he gave me this dead animal stare, looked right through me."

"Did you keep talking about it in the hospital?"

"Every few minutes. Luckily, they put Ruby in the next cubicle as me. She pulled open the curtain, and kept telling the cop he was making a terrible mistake, and that when Henry and the Valkyries got there, he would be in big trouble. They wheeled her away to x-ray and to set her arm and put on the cast, then they brought her back. I kept telling the doctors I needed my hand x-rayed, that it was broken, and the doctors and nurses told me to wait. It wasn't until Henry and the lawyer got there that I got uncuffed and treated."

"And what were your injuries?"

""Broken wrist, cracked ribs, two black eyes, cut lip, lots of bruises, and some bruised bones. Was a mess for a couple weeks." His bruises had faded, but his lawyer had gotten plenty of photos.

"And the other guys?"

"Don't know," said Alo. "I think they took them to another hospital."

She flipped into her evil-Chandra mode, her hair swinging with her intensity. She had watched hours of "Beemer" perform, for that's what he did. Perform and obfuscate.

"Isn't it true that you had been drinking that night?"

"No."

"A little toke? Some peyote buttons?"

"No."

"Isn't it true you were having a little spat with your girlfriend, and those guys came up to help her?"

"No."

"Isn't it true you broke her arm?"

"What? No. And we aren't lovers."

"Why not? Unable to get it up?"

Alo was stunned, but he got through the question. "She's a lesbian."

Chandra stopped and smiled. "If you can survive that one, you can survive anything. Go home and get some rest."

Alo smiled. He stood, then took the bottle of water with him, and stepped outside. "Grilling over?" asked Tito.

"Until tomorrow," said Alo.

"I'm so sorry you have to go through this," said Tito. "Bastards."

"Too stupid to plead guilty," said Alo. He shrugged. "Some people are just that way."

"Sonic?" asked Tito.

Alo shook his head. "Let's wait until they pop Ruby loose, and get us some barbecue sandwiches."

"She's done, waiting for us," said Tito. They walked down the hall and to the elevators. Ruby was there with Skuld. Ruby gave him a tired smile.

"Hope you're hungry," said Alo. "I'm thinking pulled pork sandwiches."

Ruby smiled a brilliant smile, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. She looked at Skuld. "Man speaks my language."

Skuld snorted. "When he can speak Old Norse, then he can speak your language. But, a feast is a good idea. Then rest."

"All for the rest part," said Ruby, as the elevator dinged.

The next day dawned bright and cold. Chandra walked each of them step by step, through recounting the assault. Beemer was just as insulting and ugly in his characterizations of the teens as he could be, saying that they belonged to "cults."

Alo looked at Beemer and said, "What are you talking about?"

"What is the Wolfpack?" he asked.

"We're a group of teenagers that live on Henry and Inola's farm, just off the res. Henry called one of the first ones ‘Little Wolf.’ I forget which one. So, they became the Wolfpack."

"Isn't it true you do Native American rituals together?"

Alo snorted. "We study together, go out on jobs, do chores, sleep in dorms together. Daily life stuff."

"What about sweats?"

"That's an individual thing. Some do, some don't. Most of us are too busy."

"Don't you train together?"

"We learn riding, if that's what you mean. The fighting stuff is the Valkyries. A motorcycle club for women."

"A cult," said Beemer.

"Objection!" said Chandra. "Is there a question somewhere? And, as far as I know, Alo is a male. How would he know anything about a motorcycle club for females?"

"Sustained," said the judge, a blocky man with a sweep of graying hair and a no-nonsense manner. His name was Judge Jerome Stearns.

"What kind of fighting do you do?"

"Kickboxing, mostly," said Alo. "We spar with the girls sometimes, but that tends to leave a lot of bruises."

"So, when you attacked my clients that night..."

"Objection!" said Chandra. "The tape clearly shows both his clients attacking mine."

It went on like that for several minutes, but Chandra kept objecting. Beemer finally had to let Alo go.

He tried the same thing with Ruby. Chandra took her through the tape, step by step, including using measurements to show that the men were taller and outweighed both teenagers by quite a bit. She froze on the weapons.

"Were you attacked with a sap?" asked Chandra.

"I was," said Ruby. "The Valkyries taught me to defend myself, and how to fight through pain. Without that knowledge, I may well have been dead. He kept swinging at me with that thing, swinging at my head. I didn't want to die from a skull fracture."

"Objection!" said Beemer.

"Overruled," said the judge. "You opened this line of questioning."

Bit by bit, Chandra walked her through that night, and her training with the Valkyries. Then she asked, "When the men were down on the ground, could you have killed them?"

"Yes," said Ruby. "Several ways came to mind."

"They attacked you with weapons, attempting to maim or kill you. Why didn't you kill them?"

Ruby sighed. "You can't kill every bigoted, drunken fool in the world. That would take too much time and energy." The jury laughed.

At lunch, Beemer signaled Chandra to talk to him. She sent Henry and the kids to lunch, then entered a small conference room to talk to Beemer.

"One of my clients wants to speak to you, against my advice," said Beemer.

The prisoner was a far cry from the long-haired, drunken redneck of that night. Michael Davies was clean-shaven in a suit, but he was in leg chains. He had a sandwich and soda in front of him.

He turned to Beemer. "You're fired. Please leave the room."

"You fucking ungrateful piece of shit," said Beemer.

"Counselor," said Chandra. He left. "What can I do for you, Mr. Davies?"

"I'd like a deal," he said. "I testify against Jeff, and I do a little less time." He held up a hand against the objection she held against her lips. "I know, I beat up a girl a few months from being a kid. Well, I have a daughter. And a wife. My wife divorced me, my daughter won't speak to me, and no one from her side of the family will tell me what's going on. My family --my dad, he's doesn't believe we should pay taxes. Jeff is way more into that shit than me. His dad supports him. He's the swastika-wearing type. Runs a business printing all the white supremacist shit. I don't even have any tattoos, he's got three. 666, a swastika, forgot what the other one is. All hidden under his clothes. All I ask is a year less, maybe two. And get me out of state so I don't have to deal with this guy's family. Some of them are in prison on weapons charges."

Chandra sat down. "I'll split the difference with you, a year and a half. And you get sent to a federal facility back east." She sat down, got out her cell phone. "I'll get my associate to bring me some lunch. Let's get this done." She looked him in the eyes. "You need representation, Mr. Davies. Do you trust me?" He nodded.

She made some calls. One was to Henry to tell him to take Alo and Ruby someplace close by, and that she wouldn't be joining them. One to Keith Bosan, a defense attorney she dated on and off, who she knew was in the building. Chandra put a dollar on the table, and Davies hired Keith with it. The deal was struck.

The trial collapsed on itself as the judge denied splitting the trial, and permitted Keith Bosan, his new lawyer. Bosan sang like the sweetest songbird. The men had been drunk and angry, and Jeff Allen had lost yet another job due to being drunk, late to his shifts, and calling in sick. He deliberately went out to find someone he could "fuck up" that night. The jury took less than an hour to deliberate, and the federal hate crime charges were upheld.

Both men went to prison for ten years, Davies one less, with no time off for good behavior. Both men were shipped off to facilities far away from Nevada; Davies to protect him from Allen's people, and Allen to put him out of reach of his father's buddies.

Once the casts came off, the Nighthawks and Valkyries celebrated with a ride. Spring was warming the air. They went to Lake Mead, lit campfires, and talked, sang, and ate well into the night. Ruby went off to spar with her sisters in the Valkyries.

Alo pulled Skuld aside. "I like Willow. A lot. What do I have to do to win her? Do you have some sort of thing I have to do?"

Skuld nodded. "Stand up for yourself more. You aren't weak, but you are so easygoing it's easy to lose you, you know?"

Alo nodded. "Been making money, Skuld. Feed business, some construction with Tito. Going for my bio-chem degree. Organic chemistry's a stone bitch." He smiled. "Been too tired to stand up for myself."

"Try," said Skuld. "And talk with Thari about physical therapy for your wrist. Don't want you to re-break it when you start training with me. Until then, pool every day. And get some universal weights, from nothing, to way too heavy, and a bench. Get one of the Iron Knights to help you with that."

Alo jumped up and down on the balls of his feet. "You would train me? Really? That is so cool!"

"In my copious free time," said Skuld, dryly. "What I do for my sisters." She sighed.

"Sometimes being overrun is a good thing."