I looked at Naomi, and she obliged. “Head Mother Fucker In Charge,” she said. “Dad’s militia was first organized in the US, but Tim Foley runs the Arizona Border Recon. Dad’s people merged with the ABR. Dad can turn an altar boy into a bad ass, but Foley is more organized.”

Vincent didn’t appreciate the remark, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he chewed his cigar before talking. “I asked about Lund because we’ve got incoming.”

Naomi’s demeanor and posture instantly changed. “When?”

“They’re about fifteen klicks out. A US military caravan kicking up a lot of dust.”

“Oh shit,” I said, my eyes dancing between Naomi and Vincent.

She held her palm against my chest. “We’ll be okay. Short of blowing us to shit, they can’t breach our walls. Plus, I have a deterrent.”

“A what?”

Below, the previously organized squadrons were now running to various stations, guns in hand.

“You think it’s Peter?” I asked.

“Of course it is,” Vincent growled. One corner of his mouth turned up. “I’ve been waitin’ for that little shit to come at me for a long time.”

“Dad,” Naomi warned, watching Vincent walk away.

She turned, rushing to the closet. In less than a minute, she came out in a tan shirt and desert camouflage utility pants, the pattern different than I’d seen on any soldier. Her elbows were forward as she tied her hair into a low bun and fastened it with the black band she’d held between her teeth. She bent over to tie her boots, then stopped abruptly to look at me. “You coming?”

“Uh … yeah. Yeah.”

“They put clothes for you in the closet. Hopefully they fit. We don’t have time to stop at the tailor.”

“You have a tailor?” I asked, following her into the closet.

Once dressed, Naomi led me outside and down the hill. I could tell she was making mental checks of my breathing. She grabbed for my hand once, slyly holding my wrist while she checked my pulse.

The longer I walked and the harder my heart worked, the more excited I became. I wasn’t winded or dizzy. I felt strong, but as thrilled as I was, I couldn’t ignore Naomi’s contagious grin.

“What?” I asked.

She bit her lip. “I don’t know. I think it’s a combination of being home, being here with you, and facing off with the US government.”

“That’s a good thing?”

She shrugged. “It reminds me of my childhood.”

I frowned, letting her pull me along to the front gate where a group of forty or fifty militia were standing with her father, and that was only a section of their militia.

Foley radioed from his position. Everyone was where they were supposed to be, ready for anything.

“Mornin’,” a deep voice said behind us.

Naomi turned and jumped into Trex’s arms. “Trex!”