The man whose name they still didn’t know said, “This is where your team will reside. You have an hour to unpack. Alpha,” he said pointing to the huge, vicious dog, “will stay here and escort you to the conference building in exactly one hour. Do not be late. The last member of your team will be arriving shortly.”

The women stared at the cart as it rocketed across the compound. No one said a word as they gave the big dog a wide berth.

Omega Three was a comfortable building. There was a sitting room with a huge fieldstone fireplace with what looked like a cord of wood piled up on the hearth. The furniture—three chairs and two couches—was covered in a brown plaid fabric. Area rugs were scattered on the pine floor.

There was a minikitchen complete with refrigerator, microwave, washer, and dryer. Beyond the kitchen was a bath with three stall showers, two bathtubs, and a triple vanity. Beyond the oversize bathroom was a barracks-style bedroom, with four windows with slatted blinds but no curtains, six beds with a footlocker at the end of each bed. Towels, blankets, and pillows were piled neatly on the beds. Everything was drab olive in color.

It wasn’t the Ritz.

The others seemed to be waiting to see what Sam would do. When she opened her footlocker, they opened theirs. Sam unpacked. Slick did the same. The other three Rainford wives dumped their duffel bags inside the footlockers but not before they removed their makeup kits and slammed the lids.

“Done,” Olivia said airily as she led the way back to the bathroom, where the three women picked out places on the vanity to display their war paint. Sam and Slick made their beds, bounced a quarter on each of them to make sure the covers were tight enough. Satisfied, they walked over to the long sofa that could accommodate six comfortably and sat down.

A flurry of movement let them know the others were making their beds. When they were done, Sam and Slick both laughed. Loudly.

“What! What! I haven’t made a bed in years. I’m just going to sleep in it and mess it up,” Zoe snarled. “I didn’t come here to learn how to make beds.” The first two Mrs. Rainfords concurred.

“You might want to rethink the bed making,” Slick said. “And the footlockers. You might have to do some extra sit-ups, laps in the pool, whatever. Rest assured, it will be strenuous. I think you should start off by obeying the rules.”

More grumbling. The duffel bags were dumped willy-nilly into the footlockers. The beds took on a whole new look as sheets were scrunched at the corners and the lopsided blankets were tugged and stretched.

The knock on the door startled all of them. The women looked at one another. “Maybe it’s our last teammate,” Slick said.