Carl
Mateo tapped Carl on the shoulder and pointed out the kitchen window. “Whatever sketchy shit Aisling’s up to right now, should I assume you’ve signed off on it?”
Carl turned from where he’d been toasting himself a bagel to take a look. Honestly?
Aisling was starting to get on his nerves more than a little.
Way more.
The kids, however, adored her. And she took great care of them. Since that was her primary job, he didn’t have any valid reason to demand Aisling be sent away.
Aisling being annoying would never work as an excuse, considering Aisling also annoyed the shit out of Dewi.
In the backyard, Bebe, Dania, Lucia, and Laura stood gathered around her, intently watching and listening.
Carl did a double-take. Aisling had a huge plastic tote, and it looked like she was pulling things out of it that?—
Is she making a fucking bomb?
He bolted out the back door with Mateo on his heels, pulling up so short that Mateo nearly ran into him. “Hey, Aisling? What the hel-eck are you doing?”
“Just teaching the little ones some chemistry today!” she cheerfully said.
As he scanned the items…
Yep. Looked like she had the perfect makings for a homemade IED.
Carl cleared his throat. “I don’t know how you do things where you came from,” he said, “but our HOA doesn’t allow explosions in the backyard.”
“Yer what now?”
“HOA. Homeowner’s association. They make the rules. No explosions.”
She sat back on her heels and cocked her head at him. “What? Not even wee ones?”
He grimaced that he’d been right on the money. “No. Not even small explosions. And I’m retired military, so, yes, I’ve handled explosive ordinance before and know what I’m talking about.”
She pointed. “Look, I even bought ’em goggles and earplugs and face shields for them to wear for safety. I’m not irresponsible. I’ll keep ’em far enough back.”
“That’s not the point! It’s?—”
“And I am trained, ye know,” Aisling said.
“But—”
“Kinda what I was trained to do fer a livin’.” The girls’ heads bobbed back and forth, watching them like a tennis match.
“I don’t doubt your qualifications,” Carl said, “but we are trying to blend in, not become the focus of 911 calls.”
She cocked her head in the other direction. “What’s that, then? Like calling the guards?”
Carl silently counted to three in his head. “Yes. Emergency services.”
“Oh, ye mean 999?”
“No, I mean 911.” He closed his eyes and rubbed that spot in the middle of his forehead, right above the bridge of his nose, hoping he could stave off the tension headache already threatening.
He hadn’t experienced a true headache in years, and now it felt like he always had one.
