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My phone buzzes with a text from Dr. Asgood.

Dr. A: I need some help at the safe house. Are you available?

Ricky pulls through the gates to the house, and once he’s parked, Charlie hurries out of the vehicle, running inside to change so he can swim. I follow behind a little slower, and when he’s out of earshot, I turn to my two guards.

“We’ll be leaving in a few to go to the safe house.”

“Boss,” Bacon says with a nod, and I walk through the house to where Mildred is making homemade pasta for dinner.

God, I love her.

“Mildred, I have to go to work for a while. Can you hang with Charlie? He wants to swim.”

“Never a problem. That’s what I’m here for.” She winks at me. “Do you think you’ll miss dinner?”

“I honestly don’t know. I’m not sure what I’m being called in for.”

“Then I’ll go ahead and serve Charlie and I, and if you’re not back, I’ll hold it for you.”

“Thanks.”

I shoot off a message to the doctor and jog upstairs to change, but catch Charlie as he comes racing out of his bedroom, clad only in swim trunks and goggles that never fail to make me laugh.

“Whoa, Mr. Phelps, hold on there.” I slip my arm around his waist and twirl him to face me.

“Who’s that?”

“He’s an Olympic swimmer. Anyway, I have to go to work for a bit, so you’ll be hanging out with Mildred, okay?”

“Can I still swim?”

“Yes, but please be careful.” I know that between Mildred and the guards, there are always people around to keep an eye on Charlie while he’s in the water. “Be good for her, okay?”

“I’m always good.” He rubs his hand over his nose. “Did you call⁠—”

“No, I haven’t had time to call Bryson’s mom. Don’t worry, we’ll work something out. I have to run.”

I tap my cheek, and he gives me a sloppy kiss, and then he runs off to swim while I change into scrubs, grab my stethoscope, slip on sneakers, and then head out, but I stop and go back, crossing to the closet.

Carson said he had a bad feeling and wanted me to be armed. I refuse to do that when I have Charlie with me, but I’m leaving the house, and if it makes my husband feel better, I’ll take a gun with me. So, I unlock the safe and choose the same gun I pulled out this morning, make sure it’s loaded and the safety is on, then grab the running belt I saw earlier, step into it, secure the weapon at my back, and relock the safe before I hurry through the house, joining Bacon and Ricky at the car, where they’re waiting for me.

When I’m settled in the back seat, I shoot off a text to Carson.

Me: I have to go back to work for the doctor. Charlie is home safely with Mildred. How is it in New York?

I nibble on my lip as I see the bubbles start to dance on the screen.

Husband: NY was a bust. Headed to Miami now. I have questions. 1. Did you get enough rest to go right back to work so soon? 2. Are you fucking armed, Rina?

My man is not okay.

He also obviously wasn’t around when I was pulling doubles at the trauma center in Portland. Those were sixteen-hour days. This is nothing compared to that.

Me: I got a decent nap in. I’m fine. Yes, I’m armed, but only when I leave the house and Charlie’s not with me. I miss you. Come home soon.

He doesn’t respond right away, and assuming that he’s either working or in the air where reception is spotty at best, I put my phone in my bag and watch as Vegas passes us by. It’s always busy here, but the weekend ramps up even more with tourists, and the Strip must be bustling by now.

Not that we’re anywhere near there. The safe house is miles away from the Strip.