Saber nursed his near beer and let his eyes wander over the room. Ivy was hippier since having the baby; her breasts larger, but she could still move. She shook it on the edge of the dance floor, and made it up to the plinth with a hand up from the rose-haired dancer. They twisted around each other, and the crowd went wild. The band banged out ZZ Top's Legs, then they slid into Guns N’ Roses songs, and the dancers went wild. Servers turned and whirled, dropping off beer and whiskey at the tables. Ivy danced to Sharp Dressed Man, then hopped off the plinth onto the shoulders of Rooster, their favorite gearhead. He crouched, and Tito took her arm. She jumped down, and went to the band, Tito following like a baby duck with its mama. He handed her up, then Ivy went semi-modern and sang Man, I Feel Like a Woman. The ladies went crazy, and Tito got his wife and her girlfriends out onto the floor, then headed for the bar. He sat next to Saber, and ordered a real beer.

"Hola," said Saber.

"Que pasa?" asked Tito. "Where the fuck is your lady?"

"Gone, for a while now. MIA. Empty bed."

Tito patted his back. "Quit drinking the near beer, then, asshole," he said. "Bring a cerveza for my friend." They clinked beers, then turned to watch the women dance. "My wife gave us five wonderful children," said Tito. "Still the prettiest fucking woman in the room."

"Fuckin' A," said Saber.

"You can look at her if you want," said Tito. "But, she'll kill you if she doesn't like it. My mamacita, she's the most loving fucking person on the planet to one man, to me. But she is the mama bear. Hurt her kids or make her feel bad, she'll cut out your heart out and feed it to you. It's the Aztec blood. Mestiza women are the best," he said.

"Same with mine," said Saber. "And, I know she might fuck another guy. May have to, in order to stay alive. But, I know she'll make him pay and pay, be in a cold, dark cage if he survives her. Last guy didn't make it. Died on the way to the hospital."

Tito nodded. "My wife and I talked about an open marriage. Lasted one minute, then she said my balls would be missing the next day. So, I'm a one-woman man."

"I have enough trouble with one relationship," said Saber. "She's bi, so it might work to get a girlfriend. Keep us both warm when one of us is gone. But, would it be fair to the girl?"

"You live in a two or three bedroom?" asked Tito.

"Three," said Saber.

"Well, then, ask her when she gets back," said Tito.

"Fuck, man," said Saber, as they watched the girls dance even harder when Ivy switched to Meredith Brooks' Bitch.

All the ladies on the dance floor were screaming the lyrics. The servers whipped by with beer and shots, and the screaming became deafening as a huge herd of Valkyries entered the room, led by Rota and Skuld. They sang Highway to Hell, and danced until they were covered with sweat.

Saber's mouth hung open. He closed it, then took a sip of his beer. "I need to get us a girlfriend," he said.

"Ask your wife to ask a Valkyrie," said Tito. "Gotta be some bi ladies there who need some loving."

Saber groaned. "I have to wait until she gets back to ask."

Tito pulled out his phone, sent a message, then put his phone away. They drank, and watched the women dance. A Valkyrie jumped up and sang Meghan Trainor's All About that Bass, making Ivy laugh. Ivy took the mic back for Pat Benatar's Hit Me with Your Best Shot, and the Valkyries went wild.

Five minutes later, a woman in sweaty, crimson leather came up to Tito and Saber. She had blue-black hair with the tips dipped in multi-hued purple and silver, a foxine face, tilted black eyes, a flat nose, and golden skin. Her hair was in the tiny braids of a Valkyrie on one side, with silver beads woven into them. She walked like a predator.

"I'm Sigrun. Sister Skuld says Sister Wraith would enjoy sharing you. Would you be interested?"

Saber swallowed, then pulled out his phone. There was a text from Wraith. “Yes,” it said, in their code. He put his phone away. "You're willing to share us both?" he said.

She shrugged. "I hate my roommate. She uses drugs and I don't, and she steals my stuff. I love sex, and I have been interested in Wraith for some time. You're hot. So, why the hell not?" She stood on the bottom rung of the barstool, and kissed him in a way even Wraith had never done.

He looked into those chocolate eyes. "So, you're moving in tonight?" he said.

"Sounds fantastic," she said. "Dance first, move later." She kissed him again, waved goodbye, then went back to the dance floor.

"Dios mio," said Tito.

"What the fuck did you text to my lady?" asked Saber.

"Well, fuck," said Tito. He pounded Saber's shoulder. "I just told her what you wanted. I take it she said yes." Saber nodded. "Let's celebrate. Tequila!"

"Don't have it," said Nina. "Whiskey coming up."

"Johnny Walker Black," said Saber. "Keep it coming." Nina smirked, and poured the shots. The men downed them, then turned to watch the women dance to Gwen Stefani's Hollaback Girl.

The men crowded into the bar three deep, and took their places along the wall, and enjoyed the girl power night. The band rolled with it, even when women took down instruments and started whaling away on guitars and tambourines. They sang, stomped, whirled, whooped, and hollered.

"To Girl's Night!" said Saber, buying another round. The men cheered, ordered more beer, talked, and settled in to watch the show.

Saber switched to apple juice by making a little sign to Nina with his hands. His drinks switched to free when he went off alcohol, but he still tipped. He contemplated an Uber; he had no idea how much stuff Sigrun had. He doubted she had much stuff though; his lady traveled light, as did he. They could pack most of their clothes in a duffel. He decided to go with the bike. He danced to burn off some alcohol.

Sigrun was lovely, wild, grinding against him when they danced. She had switched to apple juice, too, laced with cinnamon. He tasted it when she kissed him. She grabbed the back of his neck when she ground up against him and put her tongue inside his mouth. She was free, laughing as she danced, screaming out lyrics, deafening him.

Heading out into the dark night burned the lingering alcohol right out of him, head and heart. They went to their bikes, and she led the way to her tiny apartment. She had four roommates in a two-bedroom, all in a building with peeling, sickly, gray paint over brick, a third-floor walkup. She opened the door. A kitten walked up to them and yowled.

Sigrun picked it up, cradled it. "This is Roxie," she said. "Dumbass Vedun brought her home, and doesn't do a thing to take care of her." Sigrun petted the kitten, who purred. She grabbed a can of kitten food out of a tiny cabinet, popped the top, and fed Roxie. Roxie ate as if she'd never eaten before.

Sigrun pulled a duffel out of a closet. Her room was the size of another closet, with bunk beds. She went to a dresser and pulled out clothes, rolled them up, and stuffed them into the duffel. She stuffed a backpack as well.

Saber went over to the woman on the bottom bunk and checked her neck. Her heart beat slowly. The works were in a tin in her hand, the needle stuck out of her arm. He saw the docking photo printer, took two photos, and hooked up his phone to it. He printed out two photos, and wrote "Drug Addict" on one, and "Way to die from throwing up in your own mouth" in the other. He found a roll of tape and taped one to her body, and plastered one on her chest.

"Won't work," said Sigrun. "She can't see reality." She did something to release the printer from the tiny lap desk, and put it in her backpack. "Damn junkie would have eventually figured out how to steal this."

She put earphones into the pack, and she was done. She handed the book-filled, camping-sized backpack to Saber, and shouldered her duffel.

She went out, and left two twenties on the counter along with a note. "I'm taking the kitten," said Sigrun.

"Yeah," said Saber.

Sigrun put the kitten in her jacket pocket, and Roxie snuggled in. She also took the last two cans of cat food, and put them in her pocket.

"Let's roll," she said.

Saber packed his saddlebags, and she packed hers. He led the way. The place was only twenty minutes away, but a million miles from the squat that Sigrun had. They wordlessly unpacked the saddlebags, and Saber buzzed them in.

"Gonna have to get you one of these," he said, holding up the plastic key.

"I can get it copied, no prob," said Sigrun. "Simple RFID."

"Okay then," said Saber, leading them to the elevator.

"Wow,” said Sigrun. "No stairs. Nice." He took them to the floor, and walked them to the door. He let them in.

"Pie plate's in the kitchen," he said. "I can get kitty litter now or in the morning." He pointed to the right. "We're on the first door to the right, office is second door, bathroom across the hall, with a soaking tub. Your room is next to that. We have a bathroom in our room, so go to town in there."

She grabbed the pie plate, and the kitten stuck her head out of Sigrun's jacket and let out a wail. Sigrun laughed, and Saber led the way to the guest bedroom. Wraith had gone all-Asian in that room, with a black, platform, queen-sized bed with a built-in table and drawer. It also had mirrored sliding glass doors that led to a closet, and a black chest of drawers with an octagonal mirror on top.

The walls were red, overlaid with silver. Sigrun took the cat out of her jacket, and put her on the purple-silk comforter. The kitten mewed, then started kneading the comforter. Sigrun petted Roxie, and dropped her duffel. Saber put her pack on the floor at the base of the bed.

"You don't have to..." He started and stopped. "You can stay here, and sex isn't required. Just, enjoy it." He smiled, took a lock of her hair, and kissed it. "I'll get the kitty litter and the cat toys." She stood there, slack-jawed, as he walked out.

He bought groceries at Wal-Mart, too, and fruit and veggies in case she was a vegan, or, hopefully not, a fruitarian. When Wraith was gone, Saber tended to eat only frozen pizza and sandwiches. He got some smoked rotisserie chicken, some potatoes, and chocolate. All women liked chocolate. His head was beginning to pound; he bought and drank a water on the way out, and headed home.

He put the groceries away, set up the kitty litter in Sigrun's bathroom, took tags off, and threw kitty toys around like grenades. He popped some headache medicine and checked on her. She turned to him, the cat on her chest, purring away.

She reached out a hand. "Stay with me," she said. "Just... here."

She pulled back the sheets and comforter on the other side of the bed. He held up a finger, then went to the other room. He stripped down, threw the clothes in the hamper, put on sweats and thick socks, and climbed in bed next to Sigrun. She held out a hand, and he held it. The purring of the cat lulled him to sleep.

He awoke in the night to her on top; moving gently, her black, purple, and silver hair now falling on the side of his face like a dark curtain. She kissed his neck, his shoulder, his belly, getting herself into positions, and moving hips and legs with a lithe body. Her breasts were small. He reached out, flicked a tongue over each nipple, making her moan. He felt a condom on himself, and relaxed as she rode him; her hair stroking his face.

He kissed and licked her nipples, sucked on the small mounds of her breasts. She came, over and over. He shuddered then released. He rose, stumbled into the bathroom, threw away the condom, kissed her, and washed himself. He brought her a wet wipe. She used it and threw it away. The cat climbed back up on the bed, proud of its ability to stalk and find its human. Roxie curled up in Sigrun's arms, and Saber held them both.

In the morning, he smelled bacon and coffee. His head was pounding. There was water and two familiar headache pills by the bedside. He ate the pills and drank the water, and stumbled into the shower in his own bedroom. He came out and wore his scruffy-dealer clothes, including long underwear, torn jeans, a torn Henley top, and a hoodie. She had two breakfast sandwiches on a plate when he got out, English muffins with cheese and bacon.

"Bless oo," he said, already biting into one.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Sigrun said, and poured coffee.

He swallowed. "Bless you," he said.

"And the gods be with you," she said. "I've got two classes this morning." She pointed to his card and his keys. "I duped everything already." She kissed him, then put her own plate and glass in the dishwasher. "I love not being the dishwasher," she said. He smiled. "I'm acing Asian art, and the collage class is just... goopy. Anyway, dinner at six?"

He nodded like a bobblehead. "Good," she said. "I'll heat up those chicken and potatoes. See you!" She grabbed the art portfolio that she’’d stuffed into her full-sized backpack, and carried a smaller backpack on her back.

He waved, and said "Bye!" over a mouthful of crispy bacon goodness. "This woman is amazing," he said to himself. He rinsed off his plate and glass and put them in the sink, then he grabbed his leathers and was off.

He spent his time mapping out the dealers, hookers, runners, and what exactly, was for sale. He was after guns. Some crew of lowlifes had been robbing pawnshops, and had killed two of the owners. His job was to make gun buys, looking for twenty-three grand in stolen weapons and some antiques, that had been accumulated in four heists.

Grant "Granny" Rasque was selling guns on a corner. Granny was old and wizened, the last one anyone expected to sell guns on the streets. His sons, Pablo and Terrence, would go fetch the guns from ancient easy-to-abandon hoopty cars, when Granny stuck a deal. Saber asked for two of the guns he knew had been stolen, but stayed away from the antiques. Granny said he had one, and the men agreed on a price.

Saber paid a hundred and forty dollars in marked, grimy bills for a Ruger that fit his hand like it had been made for him. It was the right gun. He signaled, and Granny and his sons were taken by the LVMPD's robbery-homicide squad, despite Pablo and Terrence rabbiting. They were caught and brought back. Six of Granny's hoopy-car guns were from the robbery-homicide.

Saber didn't even have to bring them in to know what had happened, but they were taken in, and put in separate interview rooms. Saber took Granny, with Detective Fatima Orono from the LVMPD robbery/homicide squad at his side. The old man was chained to the desk, and was drinking a Coke through a straw.

"You sure you don't want a lawyer?" asked Saber.

"Don't need no lawyer. I don' know nothin,' said Granny.

Saber knew he'd be eager to deal if he knew where he had gotten them from. Most gangs kept their gun business very separate from the drugs and women. Losing one guy on a weapons charge wouldn't set the gangs back much.

Saber nodded, and they turned on the camera, and apprised Granny of his rights again. "Was it Pablo or Terrence that killed the father of three?" asked Saber. Granny's stunned face turned ashen. "Which one of them killed the soccer mom?"

"My boys..."

"Are killers," said Saber. "Murderers."

"I ain't..." said Granny.

"They're going down," said Saber. "How hard depends on you. Tell me about the guns."

"What guns?" said Granny.

Saber brought out the Tec-9, 9mm, semi-automatic pistol, sealed in its evidence bag. "Found this in one of your hoopty cars. Been guns like this popping up all over the city, used to mow down women and children. You are going to tell me all about them. Every damn thing. Then your boys are going to tell me, too. Then maybe, maybe I can convince the district attorney to take some time off." He leaned forward. "You stole, then sold, illegal weapons used for homicides, robberies, all sorts of things. That makes you responsible, and facing homicide charges, too." He laid back in his chair, took out his utility knife, and began cleaning out under his fingernails. "Your boys are facing lethal injections. Both of them." He smiled the death's-head smile he had learned from Wraith. "You'll be in solitary, hearing about their deaths."

Granny sweated. Saber waited him out. His fingernails were really quite grimy. Finally, Granny said, "Did a job. Some prepper named Swenson, or Samson… or something." Preppers were preparing for the end of the world.

"Henrik Sabanson," said the detective. "A Neo-Nazi and all-around nasty guy. His wife offed him for beating her. Have her medical records. She'll get dim cap." Dim cap was diminished capacity. It meant that she had a reduced ability to tell right from wrong, and after years of abuse, that would certainly be true.

"So, this guy died, and we heard he had lots of guns hidden somewhere. So, my boys and I, we go up and find them with his kid, Gunter. Lots of 'em. Whole cases of guns and ammo… and grenades and stuff. Sold 'em in both our shops. Paid that boy good, too. Wasn't stealing."

"And out of your hoopty cars," said Saber, carefully cleaning, then putting back his folding knife. "And I take it, you took it on consignment, started paying the boy when you got sales?"

"Yeah," said Granny.

"That boy is seventeen years old," said Fatima, smiling at him. "The father hadn't been buried, his wife tried for murder. No will was read. So, I wonder, did you check his identification, or whether or not he was authorized to sell anything?"

Granny swallowed. "Jus' did what I had to do."

"Had to do," said Saber. "Had to sell guns to drug dealers, pimps, bank robbers, addicts? Had to sell guns out of the back of your cars you get from the junkyard? Had to buy these guns from a seventeen-year-old kid? Buddy, you didn't have to do jack-shit."

"We were gonna lose the shop!" said Granny. "Them big pawnshops, like department stores, been takin' all our money." He snorted. "Kinda hoped one o' dem hopped-up druggies would knock one of the chain stores out, you know?"

"Your sons started holding up other pawnshops. What happened, did Gunter sell some of the guns without you? Your boys got greedy," said Saber. "And they were trying to force them out of business, weren't they, to save your shop? Two for one? You've lost it anyway," Saber pointed out. "You may not get out in your lifetime, and your boys will be lucky to spend the rest of their lives in prison and not get the needle."

"You said you'd help! Get the charges reduced!"

"I said I'd try," said Saber. He handed over a pen and a legal pad. "I want the name and physical description of everyone who wanted a gun, including where and when. How many guns were there?"

"A case of the big black ones," said Granny.

Saber felt like smashing his head repeatedly into the table, then he thought about smashing Granny's head into the tabletop. Those guns would go for two hundred dollars, minimum, a piece.

"Big wooden box, filled with smaller black boxes?"

"Yeah," said Granny, "sold 'em."

Saber lowered his voice. "Did you know that the Tec 9 was banned in the 1994 Assault Weapons Ban? I've got you on federal charges. Who. Did you. Sell. Them to."

Granny swallowed, then the words came pouring out. "Some guy outside a gun range, kinda tall, blonde hair, military looking." Fatima nodded. That man was Bobby Heith, and he'd murdered his soccer mom wife with it. "A couple bangers. Then Big Daddy done heard about 'em, bought 'em, all I had left."

Saber nearly leapt up and ran from the room to plan the next op. Big Daddy ran the drugs and prostitutes in northwest Las Vegas. The DEA was trying to infiltrate his gang and bring him down because Big Daddy had chemists that started mixing drugs, creating increasingly lethal combinations. Including drugs like ecstasy and PCP, otherwise known as angel dust. People had walked into traffic, out windows that were not on the ground level, and been raped and murdered while high. Saber suspected this would be a joint taskforce op: DEA for the drugs, ATF for the guns, LVMPD robbery-homicide for the crime wave caused by the drugs. Coordination would be needed, and that would take time, time he didn't want to take. The drugs and guns were killing people, and the two of them together were beyond dangerous.

Saber forced calm upon himself. "Surprised Big Daddy let you live."

Granny smiled a little. "My boys was watchin.'"

Saber sighed. "The only reason you're still alive is that Big Daddy hoped you would bring him more guns."

"Sales been good from the stuff Gunter sold us. Some of that crap we couldn't do nothin' with. Old stuff. Antiques. Gunter sold it to other dealers 'fore we found out how valuable it was."

"And robbed and killed those dealers to get them back," said Saber. He looked at the paper, and the pen. "Write it down. All of it. I'll put in a word with the DA about your cooperation."

Fatima looked at Granny with shark eyes. He swallowed and wrote. "That towelhead cop you got," said Granny.

Saber sat up, and spoke in a low voice that hinted at his using the utility knife in his pocket to gut Granny. "It's called a hijab. She wears it to respect her religion and her family. She was there to pick up the pieces when Sabanson's wife, Hilda, decided to end him. Literally." He paused. "She used a grenade. She pulled the pin, then threw it with the arm he hadn't broken three times." He stopped, stared. "You sold some of those grenades to people too, didn't you?" Granny stared at him, swallowed. "Why don't you write down those buyers, too?"

Rounding up the little buyers took some time, and Kevlar vests. One junkie pulled the pin on the grenade he'd been sold, and blew himself up. One barricaded himself in his house with a Tec 9, his girlfriend, and two children. Saber snuck around the house, slipped in the back door, and took the guy out. The girlfriend took turns hitting him and screaming at him for killing her lover. Her children were taken away by children's services, and ultimately to live with their grandmother in another city. All after they found crack cocaine sitting in plain sight in the house.

When Saber bagged and tagged the gun and checked its serial number, she tried to attack him, despite her handcuffs. "He bought that for me!" she screamed. "For my birthday!"

Saber looked around. "Better that he buy you diapers and toys and baby clothes." The house was filthy. There were rat droppings on the floor near the crib. "Did you ever consider cleaning your house?" She ran at him again, her hair filthy, her teeth turning black. He turned and stared her down. "A little clue," he said, "your children are, and always have been, more important than you, this gun, or anything else in the world." He looked at Fatima. "Please take her away," he said.

"My pleasure," she said.

He went to finish his paperwork, ready to finish it so he could go home. He hoped Sigrun was still there, and even the damn cat. He had a task force to work with, and a drug lord to take down. But, right then, he wanted to be home.

* * *

The new normal stunned Saber. He opened the door, and Roxie tried to climb up his leg. By the time he had hung up his leathers and kicked off his boots, the kitten was halfway to his hip. He took her in his hand. She squealed mightily at him. He petted her, then listened to the rumble of her body as she purred contentedly. She fit in the palm of his hand.

"Dinner smells fantastic," said Saber.

"Smoked chicken always does," said Sigrun. "Roxie needs to get down, unless you want her to steal your chicken." Saber put the cat down next to a toy. She attacked the pink fake mouse with all the ferocity of a lion.

Sigrun gave him a plate of smoked chicken on a bed of shredded cucumber and carrots, and a side of potatoes. He bit into it. "My gods," he said. "Amazing."

She laughed. "You bought it. Listen, I've got to jet. They brought in the nudes, and I've got to draw naked people. Take care of Little Warrior for me?"

"Sure," he said. "We'll watch the fights together. Have fun with the naked people! Wait, that didn't come out right."

Her laughter made the silver beads in her hair ring like tiny chimes. She walked out with her rigged backpack/portfolio, and left. He finished his meal, washed his plate and put it in the dishwasher. He took a shower. The cat was his companion while he went halfway through a six-pack of sodas and some bouts of Muay Thai. Saber made himself a little bowl of cherry ice, and banged out a couple of reports on his laptop he'd needed to catch up on. He sent them in via the secure server, and then he went over a cold case. There was a truck with firearms slated for demolition, and being moved to a facility outside Las Vegas when they vanished. Both the tracking device on the truck and the tiny RFID chips on the shipment boxes were removed and destroyed. It had to be an inside job, but only three people knew about the shipment, and two were dead.

The agent that approved the transfer; one of Saber's oldest friends, a beautiful, bright, sunny agent, died of an aneurysm in the shower two hours before the transfer. The guy that was supposed to check in the truck on the other end died in a car crash two days later. And the truck driver, who supposedly had no idea what he was delivering, was missing. There was blood all over the truck, but no body. Saber was the only other person who knew about the transfer, but he found out about it, then went undercover on an op for three weeks. He had neither the inclination nor the time to tell anyone. Neither his phone or his computer was hacked, and neither were the ones at ATF, or the destination. He was determined to figure it out. He put the cold case aside; he would figure it out… someday.

He spent time on a romantic letter for Wraith. He wrote with a brush and black ink in calligraphy, all on special gray paper with a silver border. He missed her so much it hurt. He hid the letter in the false bottom of one of his dresser drawers. He planned to add ribbons, and maybe seals of red wax.

He put all the work away, and concentrated on the title fight. Muay Thai, or Thai kickboxing, brought in the tourists. It was also big money, and a way for homeless boys to get off the street. He paid into his retirement accounts, his vacation money, but he didn't have much else to spend it on. So, he bankrolled a club for homeless boys to learn Muay Thai, paying for their food, schooling and training. He popped some popcorn, and cheered on the fighter, one from his own small town. The underdog won. He went crazy dancing around the house, which annoyed the kitten, who wanted to sleep.

Saber heard the door rattle, and went for the drawer where he kept his gun. "It's me," said Sigrun. The cat stretched, then leaped off the couch to stalk its human. Sigrun put down her backpack on a table by the door. "Okay if I keep my stuff here?" she asked.

"Fine," he said. Sigrun smiled. "Good." She kicked off her boots, hung up her leathers, and said, "That microwave popcorn?"

"Absolutely," said Saber. "Right next to the microwave."

"Got it," said Sigrun.

She came in and sat down. "Muay Thai?" she asked.

"Game over, sadly," said Saber. He handed her the black remote control. "You have the power."

She laughed and picked an action movie with several long fight scenes. They laughed at the terrible blocking and absurd running-up-a-wall stunts, but enjoyed the relationships among the characters. They watched the final car chase, and turned off the TV.

"That was cool," said Sigrun. "I work a lot of jobs, and don't watch much TV."

"What do you do?" asked Saber.

"I model at two schools. The students love drawing my hair. I clean up the art room, stock supplies, that sort of thing. I am a courier, and I also have to study. I do makeup for the film majors. I'm considering a specialty in that. Makeup, creating masks, that sort of thing. I like working with latex."

"Wow," said Saber. "Have you thought about working with undercover agents?"

Sigrun laughed a long, cool sound. "You get me that gig, Saber, I'll make you dinner every fucking night." She laughed again, and played with his saber earring. "I can make a go bag, one with things ready to go, like wigs, prosthetics, makeup for four or five different looks. Pair it with clothes and jewelry, and you can walk into someplace and walk out looking totally different." She traced his eyes with his fingers. "We can't change being Asian, you know. Hard makeup trick. With glasses, I can give us the illusion of being white, or even Hispanic, or mixed. Black, I can't do with us. At least, not well."

"I'm full Thai," he said.

"Super-amazing Malay mom, part Chinese, part Malay. My mom married an Indian man."

"Are they still alive?"

"Sure," she said. "In Malaysia. I'm here on a student visa. Started out in Boston and worked my way here."

He reached up, played with her earrings; drops with a fall of semiprecious stones. With blue sodalite, rose quartz, black onyx, and garnets.

"You're amazing," he said. "And busy. You probably want to go to bed."

She laughed. "Let's go."

She went to her room to undress, with her earrings, and her soft blue shirt, and her long underwear beneath black jeans. He stripped slowly; sweatshirt, jeans, long underwear. He carried them to the hamper in his bedroom and threw them in.

He came back in and said, "If you're too tired..."

She shook her head, making her braids fly. "Let me explore you," she said, and drew him in closer.

She stroked his chest. She turned him, like a doll, making him snort with laughter. She stroked down his back, making him shiver, going over the bullet holes, and cuts from the occasional blade. She had him hold his hands up, so she could explore and stroke his sides. She walked around him, and stroked his chest.

He pulled back a little. "Shot in the chest, fairly recently. Had broken ribs, couldn't breathe. So, be careful with that."

"That sounds like it really sucked," she said.

She stroked him from head to toe while he was still standing, then led him to the bed. She put him on his stomach and lit some pillar candles; one blue, one purple. She put some sort of soft music on her cell phone with a lot of chimes and flutes, and turned out the light.

She took something out of a drawer, and stroked him with a light almond oil. She bent his arms and legs and fingers, shook out exhausted muscles, and dug out knots he didn't know he had. He let her manipulate him; his arm sockets, leg sockets, fingers, and toes. She spoke in a soft murmur to ask what he wanted, harder or softer. He wondered if he could duplicate what she did, but he doubted it. She wiped down his back, butt, and legs with a warm, wet towel. She flipped him over, put aloe on his face, and dug into his neck muscles. She popped his neck, rubbed his ears and throat, and dug into the tiny muscles at the back of his neck. He moaned with pleasure. She worked on his arms, then his legs. She wiped his face and body, then sat up.

"I wish I could do that to you," he said. "That's a two-hour professional job. Let me pay your phone bill." She laughed. "I'm serious. If you do that to me, I'll pay a bill for each massage you do. That was..."

She kissed him. "I didn't do it for payment."

He cupped the side of her face, her hair falling past his hand like soft water. "Don't ever undervalue yourself. You are amazing, and incredible, and... and I'm running out of words. Let me help you, and you will have more money for classes, and books, and Valkyrie rides."

"Okay," she said. "Skuld has been on me about using my skills and getting paid for them."

He kissed her gently. "I agree with Skuld," he said. "You must be exhausted!"

She laughed. "I am used to getting no sleep. Besides, I model early tomorrow. I can just sleep. Like I said, they like drawing my hair, trying to get all the little complicated braids just right."

"May I hold you?" he asked.

She got up, blew out the candles. "Let's hit the head, then hit the sack." They went to their separate restrooms, then came back to bed, Roxie trailing Saber, the mighty feline hunter. Roxie curled up on the floor, on the comforter where it pooled.

Their lovemaking was slow, sensuous. Saber kissed her everywhere, from her forehead to the tops of her feet. He used long, slow strokes with the tips of his fingers until she was wriggling beneath him. He put his fingers inside her, and she gasped. She was hot, slick, ready for him. He put on a condom, and they went slowly, her on top. She came twice, groaning, head thrown back in pleasure, then he released. They cleaned up, and she fell asleep in his arms.

Once again, Saber woke up to the scent of bacon. He found his breakfast sandwich in the microwave. He ate, showered, dressed, cleaned the litter box, washed up, petted Roxie, and played with her a little, before he headed out.

He wore his worst clothes, sealed in the trunk of his “on-a-stakeout” car. He took out his jewelry, and used makeup to look dirty. He hid in an alley in a cardboard box, and covered himself in ratty blankets and clothes. He drank from a bottle, the liquid actually hot apple juice. He hid heated pads under the blankets. The wind was like ice. He watched numerous drug buys (microphone and video) hidden in the alley.

Finally, the Big Honcho entered the alley; Orenville Davis, otherwise known as Big Daddy. He was in charge of drug distribution in the northwest part of Las Vegas. He had dreadlocks, wide eyes, and huge hands and feet. He dwarfed every member of his team, from the little-boy runners to Sam the Alley Man in that particular alley near Martin Luther King Boulevard. He walked with an oddly-fast, tip-toed gait for such a big man.

"You got my Benjamins?" he asked Sam. Sixteen days, and this was the first time Big Daddy had ventured into the alley.

He rotated everywhere, always on the move in an armored SUV, checking out his territory. Saber pushed a tiny button while pretending to snore, his mouth opened to show his artificially blackened teeth.

"Six hours' worth," he said. "Be double this in double time." Sam was tall, gangly, skinny. He carried a Tec-9, 9MM in a holster slung on his back.

The gun was hidden by the folds of his duster, a .22 in one boot, and a knife in the other, as well as box cutters in both pockets, along with the little drug packets in their baggies. The ones stamped with evil cartoon characters to set them apart. The money, he kept in small denominations in one pocket, and in his money belt for anything bigger. Only someone supremely stupid would try to shortchange or steal from Sam.

"What you need?" asked Big Daddy.

"Vampire rabbits and mutant hedgehogs," said Sam. Saber fought to keep a slack face. The rabbits were heroin, a very fine grade indeed. The hedgehogs were filled with crystal meth dyed an odd blue color, making them look like rock candy. "And gimme some of dem T-Rexes." The T-Rexes were a potent mix of Ecstasy with a light dusting of PCP, otherwise known as angel dust.

This ugly little mix was why Saber was in a cardboard box. Combining a hallucinogen and a euphoric drug led to higher highs, and things like people thinking they could fly while walking out of hotel-tower windows. There were six dead so far, and two expected to die. One in a deep coma with cranial and spinal damage from leaping into traffic, and one from walking out a third-story window, with a shattered pelvis and a brain bleed. Big Daddy pulled out packets of the plastic baggies, rubber-banded together. Saber twitched a finger twice. That was the go signal.

There were six cop cars, two more cops hidden in the alley, a sniper up above, and a drone. They converged so fast that Sam was still reaching into his duster to swing out the Tec-9 when the sniper got him in the shoulder. They all identified themselves; LVMPD drug squad, DEA, and Saber, the lone ATF guy.

There were a lot of Tec-9’s in this gang, surprising when most of them did just fine with six-shooters and Glocks just six months before. Even the huge profits Big Daddy was raking in wouldn't account for all of those new, shiny weapons. A gun nut named Henrik Sabanson was murdered by his abused wife, and his teenage son Gunter had pawned entire crates of daddy's collection anywhere he could sell it. One crate of Tec-9’s had made it to Big Daddy. Little Gunter Sabanson was now in prison for selling his father's things on the same day of his death. He was probably going to do more time than his mom would, for killing his dad.

Saber reached around, got the Tec-9 off the bleeding, whining Sam. He checked the serial number. "We're in business on my end," he said.

"Outstanding," said Wraith, smiling at her man. "Now, go and clean up. You smell like this alley."

He said, "That was the point, Ma'am."

Saber took the Tec-9 into evidence, took lots of photos, took his own cameras with him, but left the others for LVMPD and his lady. He left the contents of the cardboard box for the next homeless person, and scooted back to his office. He dropped off the evidence, camera, and SD card from his digital camera, took a shower, and dressed in clothes from his locker. The homeless-man clothes went back into the sealed container in the trunk of his car. He hated having to have one; he loved his Harley. But, he needed a mobile command center, and the black Datsun was it.

He went back in, filled out so much paperwork he actually thought he'd never finish, wolfed down some orange chicken at a fast-food Chinese place, and went to see what they got in the raid. They had hit six, total, safe houses used by Big Daddy. Two were drug manufacturing centers with women counting the money while stripped to their bras and panties. Three were businesses, fronts for Big Daddy --a dry cleaner, a laundromat, and a pawnshop, each with beds in the back, big enough for Big Daddy. The sixth was the well-run apartment building Big Daddy owned, where he kept his higher-class whores and his own apartment.

"Found your box of Tec-9’s," said Lieutenant Trudy Stately of the LVMPD’s drug squad. "Took photos, bagged 'em and tagged 'em. Got serial numbers from the same lot on his six most trusted people. Two are in the morgue, but their guns are here."

Saber looked at her photos, then checked each and every evidence bag, checking off the serial numbers on his tablet PC. "Got two missing," he said.

Detective Fatima Orono slid around the corner, evidence bag in each hand. "Got some guns, Lou. Where you want them?"

The lieutenant hooked a thumb at Saber. "They're his."

Saber took the bags, and checked off the serial numbers. "That's them." He handed them back. "Where'd you find this one?"

"You'll never believe this one," said Fatima. "Your lady was his newest, most trusted lieutenant, since she pretended to be blood thirsty and crazy as a loon. So, she got one on her initiation, her beatdown into the life."

Saber's face grew still. "I thought her face was puffy," he said.

Lieutenant Stately touched his arm. "They took her to Valley, and she's fine. Lacerations and bruises, mostly."

"Mostly?" asked Saber, his voice cold.

"They branded her," said Stately. "On the shoulder. A little skull."

Saber's eyes grew frosty. "This evidence. Must be. Perfect. In every way." He handed back the bags, and slid his tablet into the special pouch he had sewn into his leather jacket.

Lieutenant Stately nodded once, crisply. "We will dot every ‘i,’ cross every ‘t,’ I swear."

Saber nodded at her, unable to speak past the dry mouth, frozen heart that had stopped beating, and the sound of air rushing in his ears began. He took his tablet back out and filed everything he needed to file. All while he paced the super-long hallway, entered the elevator, and went up to the parking garage, he abruptly realized he shouldn't be driving, and called an Uber. He got to Valley, and found her filling out reams of paperwork. He took out his credit card, and wordlessly handed it to her. She waved it away, filled out another form, then stood.

"I'm leaving now," she said. "We're good?"

The blonde at the window kept typing. "Just a few more questions..."

Saber leaned over, put his badge on the counter. "Finish them. Right now. We're leaving."

She stopped, stuttered, and asked some very quick questions. "Finished," she said. Saber pocketed his badge, and followed his lady out.

"Your bike here?" he asked her.

"Was going to ask you the same thing," she said.

They walked up to the taxi stand, and were home within sixteen minutes. He walked her in, and the kitten greeted them with an imperious yowl.

"We have a cat?" asked Wraith.

He helped her out of her jacket, and wriggled out of his as she knelt to pick up the kitten. He kicked off his boots, and he took off hers as she leaned against the wall, and looked the purring kitten in the eyes.

"Roxie," he said.

"She's gray all over," said Wraith, "with blue eyes." She petted the cat with a finger. Roxie fought bravely, but succumbed to the head scratches.

Saber led Wraith over to the couch. He sat he down, and put an ottoman under her legs. He looked in the refrigerator, and found food in clear, labeled, plastic containers. He put together the last of the smoked chicken, shredded carrots and bell peppers. All in a wok with some sesame oil. He put on ramen noodles to boil, and heated the chicken and veggies. He made a peanut sauce of half chunky peanut butter and half soy sauce, then drained the water from the cooked noodles, added them to the wok, and tossed them in the peanut sauce. He put the concoction into two bowls, put them on a tray with two cans of cola, plastic chopsticks, and napkins, and fed Wraith.

They both ate mechanically, neither one able to talk. He cleaned up the wok, rinsed the bowls and chopsticks, put them in the dishwasher, grabbed plastic wrap and electrical tape, and led them both to the bath. He covered her bandages and taped them up, and led her into the shower. He washed her carefully; watching blood, grime, and gunpowder residue flow down the drain. He leaned her up against the wall of the shower stall, washed himself, then turned off the water. He led her out of the shower, and wrapped her up in the huge gray towel. He put a small towel on her head.

He led her to the little stool in front of the vanity in their bedroom. He gently patted her dry, he towel, then blow-dried her hair, then wrapped her in a warm robe. He dried himself as she applied aloe and burn cream to various parts of her body. He dressed in sweatpants and heavy socks, leaving his arms bare for her. He dressed her in a camisole and yoga pants. He got her into bed, propped up against the backboard. She grabbed the remote control and put some nonsense movie on the flat screen TV.

He went back into the kitchen, made a pot of blackberry tea with honey, and put it on a tray with two mugs and a box of chocolates. The kitten had already located her again, and was nestled in her arms, purring its little, kitten heart out. She put it under the comforter with her. Saber poured her tea, then his. He brought his around to his side of the bed, and put it on its nightstand. He propped the pillows up behind him, and they watched movies with nonsensical plots.

Sigrun came home. She made herself dinner, and stayed in the living room while she ate. She put the dishes away, then showered and dressed in yoga pants and a short-sleeved shirt. She knocked, then came in.

"Skuld called, said it was bad." She went over, and they did their touching-forehead thing. "With your shield," Sigrun said.

"Or on it," said Wraith.

"I'll be back," said Sigrun. She came back with candles, this time blue, black and silver ones. She turned off the TV, put on the strange music, and turned off the lights.

"Do you..." asked Saber.

Sigrun motioned for him to stay. Sigrun pulled back the covers, took off Wraith's socks, and put on peppermint cream. She worked it in, making Wraith moan. She rubbed Wraith up her calves. She took off Wraith's yoga pants and rubbed her legs, moving them around in the sockets. She did each arm, and palpated her belly, gently. She gave the cat to Saber. The cat fell asleep in his hands, and so he carefully put the sleeping kitten on the floor on the edge of the comforter. Roxie yawned, flexed her claws, and fell asleep again.

Sigrun flipped over Wraith, and had her remove the camisole. Saber and Sigrun both grimaced at the edges of black and bubbled crimson under the bandage, still wrapped in plastic wrap. Sigrun left the plastic wrap on the cuts, bruises, and the burn scar. With delicate fingers she worked primarily on her head and neck. She stopped, and carefully covered her with the sheet.

"She's sleeping," she whispered. She stood, then came around to Saber's side of the king-sized bed that took up most of the room.

She did the same for him, with his feet, legs, arms. She turned him over, dug out the knots he had the size of boulders, and stroked his hair.

"Move over," she said. He cradled Wraith in his arms, and Sigrun stroked his hair until he slept.

Saber woke early because a cat was plunging its tiny claws into him. He petted it, and it curled up to sleep. He saw something moving, and found that Sigrun had been busy. There were blue and silver mylar balloons floating in the bedroom, and his letters were tied to the cords. He smiled, held Wraith closer, and fell asleep again.

He awoke to find Wraith corralling a floating balloon by catching the string with her toes. She brought it down to her, opened the letter, and smiled, tears streaming down her face. He grabbed one and pushed it her way. She grabbed it, then opened another letter. He handed her tissues, and watched her laugh as the kitten awoke and began chasing balloon strings all over the bed. He went into the corner, snagged the last one, and brought it over to her. She hugged and kissed him, then imperiously dragged off his yoga pants and boxers. She grabbed his cock, squeezed it, and felt it come alive under her hands. She grabbed a condom out of the drawer, rolled it on, stripped off her clothes, and straddled him. She pounded him, sweating; the plastic long since gone from her bandages. One became red with blood, but she ignored it, nipping and clawing at him, rising and falling at a punishing pace until she let go with a howl, and he let himself go, too.

He managed to get her off of him without staining the sheets with blood. He ran to the bathroom, threw away the condom, wiped himself off, and grabbed the first aid kit. He handed her a wet wipe while he cleaned and re-bandaged her wound.

"You're lucky you didn't pop a stitch," he said. "I'm not that good at field surgery."

She grunted with the pain. "Small price to pay for your love," she said. "Now, hunt me some food."

"Yes, Ma'am," he said, and dressed himself again.

He found two breakfast sandwiches in the microwave, ready to warm, and fresh-squeezed orange juice in a carafe. He made a tray, and brought it in to her. They stayed in bed, doing what little needed to be done on their tablets, and watched insanely stupid movies. They ordered enough pizza, chicken wings and fingers, and cheese sticks, for two days. They ate like low-class kings, drank soda, and read books.

Sigrun came home, looked in on them, snorted, showered, dressed in soft yoga clothes, and climbed in bed with them. She stole the cat from Wraith, stole the remote control from Saber, and put on a movie so funny they nearly spewed soda on the cat with their cackling laughter.

Improvement

Alo finished creating the new rabbit mix. The rabbits loved it, and they grew fat and had rabbit babies. He sealed the lid; it would last for two days. He was figuring out how to put it into pellets for sale, but that seemed so... commercial. A few of the brand-new Wolfpack took on learning his mixes, and Alo had already supervised them shredding beets to go into the horse feed. They got a cut of his take, but that was well worth it. He was stretched thin, and farming out tasks was the very first thing Inola taught the Wolfpack to do.

"Critical tasks," said Inola, "are your job. The rest, you supervise to be sure they're done right. You feed and walk the horses, I rescue and train them. You get good enough and love the horses, you can do it too."

Or work with me, thought Alo. I need to get both packing and distribution down. Get these guys some driver's licenses and a delivery truck. He sighed. Have to pay them well enough so they can afford a truck. He popped his head up with a new thought. I can buy the truck!

He stood, stretched, and did his warm-ups, right there in the barn. Inola snorted as she went into the tack room and came out with a long lead.

"Go swim, fighter boy," she said. He snorted, and went to the main house to meet up with Undine.

Nantan drove up to the main house right as Alo crossed over to the house. "Right on time," he said.

"On it," said Alo. He helped Undine out of the truck. "Land softly," he said, as she stumbled.

"Trying," she said. "Let's go change," she said. He took the downstairs bathroom and she the pantry.

They changed into their shorts and swim trunks. He walked her out to the solarium and up the ladder. Paco, their physical therapist, was just giving Vu a hand up to the ramp. She went down first, and smiled.

"Get in," she said, and grabbed a towel from the bin at the base of the ramp. "Water's fine."

"It's always fine," grumbled Undine. "It's a heated pool."

"Chop chop," said Alo. "Let's go. I've got two lectures to listen to, notes to take, a paper to write, a research project to complete on plant life cycles in hydroponics beds, and Tito needs an extra hand on the Whistler Way house."

Undine growled at him, but she went up the ramp. She laughed, and belly-flopped in the water. She wasn’t impressed with the hurry of it all.

"Crazy woman," said Alo. He followed up the ramp, and slipped into the water.

Paco was a physical therapist and a kickboxer. He had them stretch, then soon had them kickboxing in the water with floaty "weights."

Undine did everything at half speed. "You guys are so fast," she complained.

"Proper form is more important than..." said Paco.

"Weight or speed," finished Undine, gasping. Paco let her do simple arm movements while he had Alo do faster, more complicated punches and strikes.

He went back to Undine, got her to swim away from a fictional shark. They both did laps; Alo's much faster. They were both ready for a shower, drink, and snacks in half an hour, and Alo helped Undine get out and walk down the ramp.

"Next!" yelled out Paco. "We're burning daylight here!" Jake and Carl walked up the ramp, laughing.

Alo and Undine both hit the shower next to the pool to rinse off the water. Undine fell into a soft patio chair, gasping. Alo handed her a towel. She dried off, and Alo passed her a fizzy water. He took a lime water for himself, and dried himself off. He ate apples and slices of cheese off a plate.

"I could get used to this," he said. He stood. "Goodbye, ladies and gentlemen, I have to change."

"You make me tired just thinking about your schedule," said Undine.

Alo laughed. "I've got it easy. Ajai does coursework, walks dogs, cleans houses, house-sits when people go out of town, pours and assembles miniature Harleys for Ghost, and wait, there's more. Sometimes she has time to work on bikes with Bonnie, who runs around smiling because Killa and Ghost both came back to work."

"Well, damn," said Undine. "Gives me a complex."

Alo finished his food, and stood. "I don't want to be her scheduler," he said. "Bye!" He put the plate in the plate tray to be brought to the kitchen, and took his towel with him to change.

Undine watched him go. "What courses can I take?" she asked.

Vu looked up from her book. "Go learn how to make the Navajo rugs. Or, learn how to make them out of alpaca and angora wools."

"Well, damn," said Undine. She stretched and stood. "Looks like I have to finish the rugs I got, and find me a teacher." She took her plate to the plate tray, and stretched again. "I'll be looming in the distance," she said.

Vu threw a pillow at her. "That is the worst pun I've ever heard."

"Oh, no," said Undine, throwing the pillow back. "I've got worse up my sleeve."

"If you keep it up," said Vu, "I'll go in there and read trashy romance novels to you, rather than your space operas."

Undine cringed as if slapped. "You wouldn't," she said.

Vu pulled up a book on her tablet. "He untied the stays that held her heaving bosom in place..." Undine fled, with her rolling tippy-toes gait, and headed to get changed.

"That's just mean," said David, wheeling in Mishina, in her electric-blue, bathing suit finery.

Mishina cackled. "Woman needs a little poke to get her where she needs to go. This one, you just tell her. Vu, get off your ass and go code something. Don't you have more coyote stories to translate?"

Vu stood, smiling down at Mishina. "There are always coyote stories to translate. There are hundreds of them." The two of them sang "The Song That Never Ends" as David pushed her wheelchair up the ramp. David and Paco shared an eye roll, then they helped get Mishina in the water, still singing lustily.

Later in the day, Henry found Vu banging out yet another coyote story on her laptop. She had her Sioux friend Sota translate the words from Paiute, and he was on video. Undine had her loom on its easel in its clamps. It was a rectangular rug-sized piece of wood, with screws all around the outside. Strings of blue hung vertically, and Undine wove horizontally with a steady touch. The "yarn" were long pieces of old, holey T-shirts, cut into strips. Undine struck a deal to buy the discards from several charities and used-clothing stores. Carl was doing complicated beadwork, his gnarled hands steady. Billie and Mishina sat in their wheelchairs, carding alpaca wool for Numa, nodding at Vu telling the story.

Inola burst into the room. "Henry, call from Doctor Yates. Two ponies, freezing half to death."

David rose. "I'll go too." Inola, Henry and David ran out of the room to get the ponies.

"Those poor things," said Vu. "I wonder if we could make some sort of horse blankets?"

Jake grunted. "Not a bad idea."

Undine snorted. "Guess I'll have to learn real weaving, not this rag stuff."

"One leads to the other," said Vu. "Got lots of video you can watch. We'll need to set up a loom," she mused. A big one."

Jake and Carl both cackled. "Go right on ahead," said Carl. "The sales from the blankets should cover the costs of adding onto the house just fine."

"Don't have to add onto the house," said Jake. "Been figuring it out. I want one as well. We knock out this wall, lose the little closet next to this wall." Jake knocked on it. "Move one of the panes from the pool room in the far corner, move it back."

"Could work," said Vu. Let's call up some plans for Tito."

"Can use plant fibers and dyes for some work."

"We need us some fat sheep," said Vu.

"No," said Carl. "Just order some wool from the Dine and have it shipped here. Color doesn't matter, or quality, so much. It's going to horse blankets, not clothes."

"More washing, carding, and spinning," said Undine. "Not yay."

Jake cackled again. "You got something better to do? Besides, we need to recoup the cost of that pool."

Undine sighed. "Outvoted again," she said.

The ponies were black and white, and there were many willing hands to keep them warm and fed. They were named Ebon and Moon, and they became quite playful when they got warm and fat again. Tam and Nico fell in love with them, and Nantan tried to figure out how to buy them from Henry and Inola.

The Dine were very helpful with plans for the loom and for wool, which was washed to get the lanolin out. They got the specs, and two Wolfpack members came by and took out the closet. They rearranged the room, and were able to make a semicircle of chairs, tables, projects, and the loom in the corner. It was huge, taking up half the room. The wheelchair-bound Owl Pack members handled spindles, spinning the wool into yarn. They had an actual spinning wheel in the corner.

Carl was delighted. "From high tech to low tech," he said. "Appropriate."

"It's winter," said Undine. "What else we gonna do?"

"Point," he said, and they all got to their projects, Vu reading to them the entire time.

* * *

Ivy herded Grace and Hu into the van, and put on the movie. Bao put one baby in the car seat, and Callie another. Bao hopped in the back, the "torture seat," as Ivy called it. Callie took the wheel. Ivy made sure both the baby strollers, the diaper bags, and the two snack and drink bags, front and back, were in. She hopped in, put on her seatbelt, and they headed out. Ivy put on her favorite rock, then promptly fell asleep. Callie laughed, and switched over to an audiobook. The babies burbled and played with giant plastic car keys, the girls watched their movie and made hooked rugs, and Bao closed her eyes.

They made good time, even with potty breaks and a visit to a diner to feed the babies, then themselves. Soon, Ivy would see her daughter Damia again at the special ranch that catered to severely autistic children. Ivy took over the driving, impatient to see Damia. She parked the van in the lot, and waited while the instructor walked the pony up to the van. Ivy opened the doors, and let Damia peer in from her heightened vantage point at her new brothers.

"I have two brothers," she signed.

"Yes," said Ivy. "And Grace and Hu are your sisters."

"Big family ride ponies?" asked Damia.

"Yes, on Henry's ranch," signed Ivy.

"I live Henry's ranch?" asked Damia.

Ivy sucked in a breath, then let it out again. "Must build house first. But yes. Or live and we visit, like now."

"I live Henry's ranch now?" asked Damia. "Have pony for me?"

"And me?" signed Grace.

"And me?" signed Hu.

Callie sucked in a breath. "We just got the duplex the way we like it," she moaned. "With a mother-in-law house and all."

Bao grinned wickedly. "We can leave her behind to manage two rentals. She can even rent them to Chinese people, and dragon-mother them. She'd love it."

Damia made an impatient wave of her hand to end the byplay, and signed again. "I move soon. I want Mommy."

Ivy tried not to cry. "I want Damia," she signed. She said, "Babies are loud."

"Listen to loud baby noises," said Damia.

Dr. Hoit came up on the other side of the pony. "We've been experimenting. Loud noises, bright lights, tapes of babies crying. She even went to a grocery store. She's nearly meltdown free." She signed to Damia. "Damia amazing girl, amazing progress."

Damia sat up straighter in the saddle. "Not sack in saddle," she signed. "Know Henry house save ponies."

"Yes," signed Ivy. "Some ponies here are from Henry's farm."

"I am pony girl," signed Damia.

"So is Inola, our trainer," said Ivy. "You must meet her."

"She have baby too," signed Damia. "Loud baby. Use music not hear loud baby sound. I like Backstreet Boys." She spelled the name, and Ivy laughed. Grace and Hu were a little slower, then they got it. They started singing Everybody.

Ivy touched her daughter's hair, and sang, Hu and Grace joined in. Callie covered her mouth, trying not to cry. Bao smiled down at Hu, and stroked her hair as well. Then, stunningly, Damia opened her mouth and sang. Her voice was rusty, discordant, and off the beat. Ivy slowed down the song to accommodate her daughter. They ended raggedly, their voices out of sync. That was the most beautiful song I've ever heard, thought Ivy. Both Dr. Hoit and Jemma, the pony handler and animal therapist, had tears running down their faces. They both wiped their eyes when the song ended.

Ivy reached forward, and touched her daughter's hair again. "Fast hug okay," signed Damia.

Ivy hugged her daughter briefly, then stood back. "Thank you," she signed to Damia.

"Go home with Mommy now," signed Damia.

Ivy looked at Doctor Hoit. The perfectly groomed woman looked out of place in the driveway next to a little girl on a dappled pony.

Dr. Hoit shrugged. "How soon can you build the house?" she asked.

Callie's fingers flew over the keyboard. "Henry says you can live on the other side of the stream, he'll build a little bridge. Tito says he knows an auction, two-story farmhouse for sale for one dollar. Moving costs about twenty-two thousand, house in good shape. Land is going to a wildlife corridor, whatever that is."

"Place for wildlife to live and to cross over to more territory," said Ivy. "Done and done. Tell Tito to do it, and we need a concrete pour." She froze. "What am I gonna pay Henry?"

Grace looked up at Damia, sitting correctly on her pony. "Give him a pony girl. Inola will love another horsey person."

Ivy laughed. "Sorry," she signed to her daughter. "Making plans. Must move house. Not know how long it will take."

"Why can't we move our house?" asked Grace. She signed it at the same time she spoke it.

"Too big," signed and spoke Hu. "Besides, Grandma will get new families in, and boss them around."

Bao let out a laugh. "She probably will," she signed and spoke.

"We need a loan," said Ivy, struggling to keep calm. Damia is coming home! She screamed over and over in her head.

Dr. Hoit said, "You get me two more of these wonderfully trained and gentle ponies, I'll give you a lot of that," she said. "And, we have a boy waiting on Damia's bed. Our waiting list is..."

"Very long," said Ivy. "We'll move this along as fast as possible."

"Hungry," signed Damia. "Bye family. Want own pony."

"Working on it," said Ivy. "Let's go get this pony back where it belongs, and you fed." She walked with the horse trainer and her daughter around the building.

"What just happened?" said Callie, staring at the cell phone in her hand.

"That," said Dr. Hoit, "is what we strive for. A reunited family. When you gave birth, then had to stay home with the new babies, Damia turned some sort of corner, came out to live with us in the world. She's still autistic. She's not cured. But, she knows she loves her mother, and wants to live with her. We've all been working hard to make that happen, most especially Damia."

The doctor was shocked when Callie and two little girls came flying out of the van, and embraced her. She hugged them all in a group hug. After they were done laughing and crying, she stood back.

"I am so happy for you all."

"Thank you!" said Grace, breaking into an impromptu happy dance.

Hu said, "You are amazing." She turned to her mother. "I want to be her when I grow up," she said, pointing to Dr. Hoit. "Save kids from being alone, lost in their heads like Ivy said Damia was."

"Still is," said Dr. Hoit. "But she is learning to live in the real world. Give her, and yourselves, time to adjust."

"New sister, new sister," said Grace, dancing. Hu laughed, and joined her in the dance.

Dr. Hoit smiled a huge smile. "The families are not usually... quite this enthusiastic about reunification," she said. "Thank you. I'll remember this. It will give me strength when we can't reach a child. We have to remember how it feels to actually connect, to put families back together.

Callie's phone rang. "I've got to take this," she said. Dr. Hoit nodded, and took her carefully coiffed hair and sensible shoes back to her office. "Ace. Yes, that's right. Yes, concrete pour at Henry's. No, we're not moving our house, it's too big. We're buying a ranch house for a dollar that's in a wildlife corridor. Yes. Yes. Yes." Callie held the phone away from her ear as Ace whooped. "Apparently, Ace is covering the bar with Cougar, and we've got as much time as we need to get the concrete poured and the house moved." There was more talking into the phone. "And we've got free babysitting from all the Nighthawks for as long as it takes." She laughed. "He says Lily wants the practice with the boys for when hers come."

Bao's phone vibrated. She took the call. "Henry, she's on the phone with Ace, and Ivy's with Damia. Wait, let me tell you that the farm here wants two more of Inola's trained ponies. Yes, we'll take care of it. Yes, of course. Thank you!"

Grace danced up and down. "Henry! Henry! She's a horse girl!" Bao explained about Damia and the pony. She covered the mouthpiece. "Inola's on her way," she said. "And Henry or David. They've got too many ponies. They had to rescue two more. Their barn is too full anyway, she said. Tam and Nico are mad, but they get to pick two more from their current crop."

"Tell Tam and Nico thank you!" Grace sing-songed.

Hu said, "We'll help them train their new ponies."

Bao conveyed the message, then hung up. Callie got off her call, too. "I saw a diner a ways back," said Bao. "Let's go there and make that Command Central."

Callie sighed. "Good a place as any. Our phones are going to be blowing up all day."

She got out, herded the excited girls back into the car and plugged in their seat belts, kissed the napping babies, and went in to tell the staff to tell Ivy where they went, and to text them when she was ready to leave.

As she made her way back to the car, Katya called. "And you do not ask me for help?" said Katya.

"Hello," said Callie, putting her on speakerphone. "Talk to everyone while I drive. And, we found out ten minutes ago. A little too soon to even figure out what's what." She plugged in her seatbelt, and drove to the diner.

* * *

Henry and Tito followed David on horseback up the slight rise, then back down, on the trail behind the Wolfpack house. They rode past cacti and Joshua trees to a flat piece of land, as flat as desert could be. All three men dismounted. David held the reins.

"Need a road," said Tito.

"We'll widen the trail," said Henry.

"It is flatter here," said Tito, walking around. "Easier to grade."

"And my autistic granddaughter won't fall in a stream in the middle of the night," said David.

"I was in a mental hurry," said Henry. "And in shock."

"She will be walking this trail –road, every day to get to the barn," said David. "It would help to have a small paddock and barn up here. Get the more skittish ponies away from everyone else, too."

Henry stared at David. "We'll have to carry everything back here --grain, feed, hay, water."

"Only the best for Damia," said David.

Tito grunted. "All doable. Let's get these Joshua trees moved. Killing them is a federal offense." He took the reins of his horse, and slowly led it back, snapping pictures with his cell phone in one hand, holding the reins in the other.

David mounted and gently took the reins from him. "I've got Scout. You do what you do best."

Tito grimaced. "What? Work myself crazy, taking care of Nighthawks every five minutes?"

Henry smiled. "I have good news." He pointed over the rise. "Right over there are twenty-four helpers. Not including Tam and Nico."

"The only reason I took this job," said Tito. "As it is, subcontractors will have to do some of this."

"Any of your sons ready to be project managers?" asked David.

Tito stopped in his tracks. "I think so," he said, then snapped another picture. "About time they broke away from Daddy, huh?"

"Two for the price of one," said Henry, smiling.

"We need a playground," said David.

"Shut. Up," said Tito.

Wraith hung up the phone. Saber was dead asleep in the bed, after another bout of sex. This one hadn't broken anything open, so Wraith called that a win.

She called Skuld. "Do you remember Las Malos Mujeres?"

"The Bad Women? Well, yeah. Took them down hard."

"Not fucking hard enough. Judge Jones let one of them out on bail."

"Oh, shit," said Skuld. "I'm coming over, and I'm bringing a posse."

Wraith hung up the phone, then said to Sigrun, "Guard him."

Sigrun nodded. "Can do. But he's good at guarding himself, too."

"Bring in his weapons, but let him sleep," said Wraith.

"On it," said Sigrun, heading down the hall to the bedroom, with a very determined kitten following in her wake.

Rota was there first, just as Wraith had finished dressing without tearing any stitches, and hidden all her weapons in her boots, hair, and in concealed places in her waistband. Like at her spine, and one in her pocket.

Wraith opened the door. Rota stepped in, and put Wraith's forehead to hers. "With your shield," she said.

"Or on it," said Wraith. "I'm letting our man sleep. Sigrun is bringing..."

Sigrun came out of Wraith and Saber's bedroom, guns and knives in a tray. "Rota," she said, nodding. "I've got his favorites." She moved down the hall, and opened her own bedroom door.

Skuld entered next, spiky with rage. "Why can't they bounce a seventy-one-year-old off the bench? Jerkoff Jones probably thought women can't run drug empires."

"Which one was it?" asked Rota, who was checking the windows.

"Does it matter?" said Skuld. "Sorry, love, just angry as hell. The one they call La Leoparda, Leopard Woman."

"Didn't she kill a DEA agent?" asked Rota.

"Two, actually," said Wraith. "Liena Ochoa and Divinia Ruiz. Both women found with their throats slit, their tongues cut out, their hands cut off to prevent identification."

Rota nodded. "So, she's coming after you two."

"Absolutely," said Skuld.

"How will she find you?" asked Rota. "Aren't the names and addresses of agents kept confidential?"

"I'm not an agent," said Skuld. "Not afforded the same protection. Made a temporary agent from time-to-time due to my military background and training."

"I am," said Wraith. "But Judge Jones and I have had run-ins before. He thinks men are smarter than women. He's dumb enough to give out info, have it overheard, or be hacked into. I doubt he'd deliberately give out my info, but he's very easily conned." She grinned. "If he did, I'll get him off the bench."

"Finally," said Skuld. "Silver lining."

"Should we run?" asked Rota.

"Fuck, no," said Wraith. "Bring it on."

"Success breeds success --and new opportunities."