Three are days away from giving birth, and one lady gave birth mid-transport to this location. The last thing we want is a repeat of that, or to chance getting busted and having them put in some holding facility, removed from their babies.
The insta-building, however unwelcoming, has the best setup until we figure out how to take care of them.
Knowing the environment is critical for the health of the mothers and the babies, I go with Nacho to talk to the mothers to find out what they need. We’ll order better beds and softer bedding, along with tables and chairs and comfortable couches for a common area. I might also toss some flowering plants into the order to give the place a more welcome feel.
I return to the house where Anders and Hopper are shooting the shit while Levy is still sedated and only wearing a paper towel. After Anders assures me Levy’s resting comfortably and should rouse soon, I head into the dark living room and drop onto the old, musty couch. Charlie sits down next to me, equally exhausted.
“The Wimberley crew will take care of the bodies and work with Hop to take care of the dogs. Erik says Ant passed out as soon as they got to the bunkhouse, so now he’s stuck with Ant sleeping on his lap.”
I chuckle. “What are the odds Ant’s actually awake and just taking advantage of the opportunity to lie on Erik’s lap?”
“Gotta be at least fifty-fifty,” Charlie jokes back, then goes serious. “Shit. What the hell are we going to do with him? The way he kept going after that guy…”
“Normally, I would want to have him admitted for evaluation and perhaps a stay at a trusted facility. However, given what he knows and what he’s been through, a standard mental healthcare facility probably isn’t the right choice.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say.”
“That said, even with the ethical complications of our living arrangement, Levy and I are probably the best qualified to work with him.”
Charlie chews on a thumbnail, considering. “There is a criminal psychologist who works with Anders who might also be a good fit.”
“Why doesn’t it shock me that Anders sees a criminal psychologist?”
“Because who else would have me?” he says, walking into the living room.
I groan in response, even though I appreciate him more than I did before.
He sends me finger guns. “Hedy will love working with Ant.”
“What do you know about her?”
“Pretty sure she got her doctorate from Stanford in criminal psychology. She’s legit—a criminal profiler by trade, but she wears multiple hats in our organization. She profiles our new agents and counsels anyone who needs it.”
“You need a criminal profiler to identify good candidates for your organization?”
Anders chuckles. “You know she’s the one who profiled you and Levy before Charlie let you join in on these missions, right?”
I look over at Charlie, who confirms it with a grimace.
Ah, hell.
“I think, as you have discovered for yourself, that in order for anything good to get done, you gotta be willing to get dirty.” Anders says this with a shrug, then explains, “Hedy does a great job of identifying people willing to break the law but not actual criminals, and she’s a damn fine therapist. Also, she givesgreathead.”
Aaaand now he’s laughing at his own joke. Fan-fucking-tastic.
“You slept with your therapist?” I ask, sounding supremely judgmental as Nacho walks into the living room.
Anders snorts into his fist, looking pointedly between the two of us. “That happened before she was my therapist, and…you were saying?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Fuck off,” I mutter, pulling Nacho onto my lap.
Nacho puts his hand on my throat and nips at my ear as if knowing exactly what I need to ground myself and maybe stop taking myself so seriously.
Anders disappears to check on Levy again as Justin walks in the door. Justin, who is a bit tall and gangly, focuses his luminous, worried eyes on his husband.
“You ready to go?” he asks, helping Charlie stand from the lumpy couch.
