Chapter Thirteen
As I’d anticipated, Evony didn’t take the news at all well.
“Goddamn sons of bitches!” she growled as she stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing away the last of the day’s grime from her hands. For someone who took as much care in her appearance as she did, she didn’t seem to worry too much about her fingernails, only that they were clean. She kept them clipped short and didn’t bother with polish.
“I know,” I said. I was leaning up against the counter, Dutchie at my feet. It wasn’t quite suppertime yet, and the dog knew better than to beg, but she kept looking up at me wistfully, hoping I’d relent and get dinner for her a few minutes early.
After she plucked a dishtowel from where it was hanging on the handle of the refrigerator door, Evony dried off her hands, then tossed
