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they talked about?”

      She shook her head. “No, Ma’am. I didn’t hang around long enough.”

      Rita smiled, looked at Stella. “I think I’d like something stronger than coffee, Stella.”

      She smiled like only a kooky Christian could smile, couldn’t believe this dangerous woman with a face made for the big screen was her next door neighbor. Stella’s life was becoming quite exciting to say the least. “I believe a saw a bottle of single malt scotch in one of your cupboards, Major. Perhaps I’ll join you in a glass. A lady should never drink alone.” Stella looked at Dixie and winked, walked into the kitchen with a swing in her step.

      Rita smiled and relaxed at that moment, looked at Amanda’s still concerned and still pretty young face. Rita felt her age tonight. No question about it. “Care for a drink, Private?”

      Amanda couldn’t help smiling . “No thank you, Ma’am. I’m under strict orders. No drinking or hanky panky.”

      Green eyes slowly perused Amanda from head to foot and back again. Rita thought this petite dark haired woman really did have it all. Youth, looks, wit. Something interesting going on behind her dark eyes. She looked at Dixie, much closer to her own age. Only ten years younger. “I’ll bet you like scotch, Lieutenant.”

      Dixie smiled, shook her long red hair. Tussled it. Pursed her lips. “Lead the way, Ma’am.”

      Rita looked at her and squinted. “Sometimes that word makes me feel old.”

      The lieutenant grinned, adjusted her shirt and shoulder holster. “You’re tired, not old, Major.” Dixie looked Rita up and down and smiled. “You are one serious hard ass.”

      A smile crept over Rita’s face, her sleepy green eyes perused the lieutenant from head to Army boots then slowly back up the long slender body. She squinted. “Thank you, Dixie.”

      Stella entered with four glasses on a tray. Held out her arms. “I couldn’t help noticing that none of you military women are wearing a bra. Is there a new rule I haven’t heard about?” She smiled at Rita.

      Alex, who lay listening and watching from the couch remained quiet, and very interested in this sudden turn in the conversation. His chest didn’t hurt quite so much now.

      Rita lifted a shot glass from the tray, glanced at Amanda. “Take a drink, kid. A lot of women died fighting so we could swing our tits freely.”

      Amanda stared at the major. Nodded. Lifted a glass from the tray and drew it near her lips. As did Dixie and Stella.

      Rita looked at them all. Raised her glass. “Here’s to all the brave women who died fighting for freedom. And are still dying. May our tits always swing freely. No surrender. Only victory or death.” She smiled at Stella. “We use it or we lose it.”

      Alex watched Rita as she downed the drink. In that very moment he knew what she meant. Maybe he couldn’t fully understand, but he understood enough. He heard the bird cry in his mind. Rita turned and held his eyes. A grin slid across her face, a smile in her green eyes that held him breathless. For how long he didn’t know.

      Chapter Eight (Saturday, June 26, 2021)

      Rita was the first one awake, Alex still asleep in his bedroom, Dixie asleep in the den. She wore a robe into the bathroom, showered quickly, then went into the kitchen to make coffee. She could hear Alex moving around now. He soon entered the kitchen wearing jeans and t-shirt.

      “Hi Rita.”

      She smiled. “How’s the patient?”

      He lifted his shirt. “Bit of a bruise is all.”

      Rita looked at the bruise. “I’ll say. Does it hurt much?”

      He shook his head, sat down at the table. “I could have shot that guy. I couldn’t pull the trigger.”

      “I shouldn’t have given you the gun. I’m not a very good guardian.”

      “You’re better than anyone I’ve ever known. Am I a coward, Rita?”

      She shook her head. “You’re no coward, Alex. You’re a sixteen year old boy is all.”

      “It was easy to shoot on the gun range.”

      “Killing a person is different.”

      “You can do it.”

      “Yes, but I’ve been doing this for a while now. I’m trained to kill.”

      “Does it bother you?”

      “I sometimes have bad dreams about it. We’re in a war for our very existence. Islam is a dangerous death cult with many followers. They want world domination. Nothing less. And I will continue to kill them until they’ve been defeated.”

      “He looked at me first. Then he shot me. I had time to shoot.”

      “Forget it. It don’t mean nothin’.” She grinned. “Up for some breakfast?”

      “Okay. What are we doing today?”

      “You want to hang with me?”

      “Can I ask Amanda to come along?”

      “A Badger Troop squad is arriving sometime this morning. After I get them squared away you can call her. Perhaps lunch.”

      “What are we doing first?”

      “I need to go visit a woman. You can drive.”

      “A girlfriend?”

      She just looked at him. “No. The same woman we went to see before.”

      “Amanda would make a good girlfriend for you.”

      “Amanda is only nineteen years old.” Rita frowned. “Are you trying to set me up?”

      “No, but if you were looking for a girlfriend, Amanda would be a good one.”

      Rita shook her head. “Has she said anything to you about me?”

      “No, Rita. I was just thinking.”

      “I see. Amanda is much too young for me.” She grinned. “But I do think she’s easy on the eyes.”

      Alex smiled and nodded. “What about Dixie? She’s nice.”

      “Dixie’s under my command. And she has a boyfriend. And quit trying to set me up, Picasso.” Rita grinned. “But you do have good taste in women. That’s important.”

      “Important how?”

      Rita shrugged. “If you make it into Badger Troop you may have to go undercover. Things like that. You’ll need to use all your senses.” Rita smiled. “You have a keen eye for women, I think.”

      Alex said nothing, just thought about her words.

      After breakfast, Dixie returned to her apartment, then Rita drove away with Alex after leaving instructions for the Army guys not to follow, but to just stay put and guard the house. No one enters.

      While Alex steered his truck, Rita removed a dress from a travel bag, slipped the long dark colored heavy material over her clothes, donned a large black head scarf. A few minutes later Alex parked where instructed.

      Rita looked into his eyes. “You stay put, Picasso. Use your senses. If you sense something is wrong, blow the horn and keep blowing it. I’ll hear it.”

      He looked at her clothes, her face. “Yes, Ma’am.”

      She smiled. “Stop being down on yourself. Practice how I showed you. You have an eagle spirit, it will help you.”

      “Yes, Rita.”

      She grinned. “I shan’t be long.”

      Rita walked to a house and knocked. Waited, looked up and down the street. Saw nothing suspicious.

      The

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