Gabe walked down the hallway.

In an office at the end, Caz sat behind a desk. His short black hair was uncombed, his dark brown eyes bloodshot, and he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days.

Gabe cleared his throat.

Caz slowly turned his head. “’Bout time you got your ass moving.”

Since his brother held a knife, and the three in the bulletin board were still quivering, Gabe took the path of wisdom and stayed silent.

As Caz’s scowl lightened, he leaned back. “It’s good to have you here, viejo.”

Uh-huh. Gabe glanced at the piles on the desk. “Looks like you’ve got more paperwork than you have patients.”

“The clinic’s not open, so yes. But the paperwork is filed and approved, and I’m getting some equipment from Community Health Services. Basic supplies are already ordered.”

“Progress.”

“Sí. Slow, but sure.” Caz rose and stretched with a groan. “I hate filling out forms.”

The police station would need a budget, staffing, requisitions… “I hear you.”

“I’ll be able to open soon, but it’ll be just me at first.” Caz pulled his knives from the bulletin board.

Gabe grimaced. “The police station has a total of two—patrol and chief.”

“One end of the pendulum arc. We start with too few businesses and not enough money and, with luck, swing to too many tourists and not enough services. Back and forth.”

“With no one happy.”

“Beginnings are like that.” Caz massaged his shoulder—the one he’d busted the year Mako’d taught them rock climbing. “I could sure use a beer. Did you talk to Bull? The bar’s grand opening is tomorrow night even though the restaurant half isn’t quite ready.”

A bar. That was a civilized notion he could get behind. “Good.”

“Be warned, mi hermano, he hopes we’ll wait tables if he gets too far behind.”

“It’s good to have dreams, no matter how unrealistic.”

Caz grinned.

There. The explosively tempered Hispanic had been defused. My work here is done.

“Since you’ll be at the bar…” Caz rummaged in a drawer, pulled out a small box, and tossed it to Gabe. “Welcome back to civilization.”

“Condoms? You’re getting more like Mako every day.” The sarge had usually concluded his safe sex lectures by tossing them boxes of condoms. Gabe felt a smile tug at his lips as he opened the box and stuck the three packets in his wallet.

“Thanks, bro.” Not that he had any intention of using them, but arguing anything health-related with his medic brother was an exercise in futility. “I better get going. I need to work out schedules with Officer Baumer.”

“We’ll talk tonight, the three of us. Mako’s freezer still has some salmon, and we can light up the grill at the Hermitage.”