Trex shot me an impatient glare, and I shrugged, walking out. I readjusted my rifle and waited for my partner. Trex didn’t mention it again as we did our rounds, pissed off the Deep Echo boys, then met the team for lunch. I worked out, ignored Peter, then sweat my ass off while I walked the perimeter in the heat of the afternoon. The next day, I did the same, and the next day. I listened to Trex talk about Darby, the tedious details of her pregnancy, and I listened to my boots echo against the metal grid, the water dripping from the pipes… Day in and day out, it was becoming clearer to us all that the execution of a normal life while still holding a gun wasn’t the utopia we’d imagined. My gun was going to rot if I didn’t use it.

“Plans tonight, Nomes?” Trex asked.

“Going to the range,” I said, rubbing my shoulder.

“The range?” Harbinger asked, interested. “The one down the road?”

I nodded.

“Spenser’s coming tonight, isn’t she?” Trex asked.

I smiled, excited. “She texted before we clocked out to say she was two hours out. I figured I’d squeeze the trigger a few times to kill time.”

Trex held up his hand, and I slapped it. “Glad she’s coming.”

Kitsch hummed. “If Karen wouldn’t shit a wildcat, I’d tag along to the range.”

“You should come,” Sloan said. “She wouldn’t mind.”

“Won’t mind,” he corrected.

I paused while my mind scrambled for a satisfactory response. “That’s what he meant.”

Martinez opened his mouth, but Harbinger slapped his chest—hard—and stepped forward. “I’ll go too. Call Karen. Maybe she and Caroline can get the kids together.”

Kitsch thought about it then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, all right, I’ll ask her.”

“Great. It’s settled then. Martinez?” I asked.

“Hells yeah, I’ll come. I thought it was just me. Patrolling a controlled environment sounded good at first, but I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin here.”

“No,” Harbinger said. “Not just you. When you’re used to chasing, hiding, or running for your life, a day job is a tough transition, even if you’re still holding a gun for a living.” When he realized we were all staring, he shrugged. “I’ve been … you know… Caroline talked me into seeing a therapist. She’s helping.”

“Good,” Trex said. “That’s awesome, John.”

“Same,” Sloan said, scratching his temple with the barrel of his rifle. “I’m itchy too. I need to blow off some steam and shoot things.”

“Meet you all there?” Kitsch opened his driver’s side door, waiting for an answer.

“Not me,” Trex said.

I rolled my eyes. “She’ll live without you for a few hours.”

“I’m already going to workout. I want to take her to dinner,” he said. “She’s been worried about her guys.”