“What?” she asks defensively. “What other option do we have, Lys?”
“We can go back to the shelter.”
Charity scoffs. “No f*****g thank you. The moment I could afford to leave that place, I did. No offense.”
“You have an apartment in town,” I remind her.
“I’m not going back there,” she says. “In case you’ve forgotten, someone is after me. The kind of someone who can keep dirty cops on the payroll.”
I bite my lip, trying to think of a way out for us. “We can get a new place. Something small…”
“With what money, Elyssa?” she demands. “I don’t exactly have savings. And it’s not like I can work with my face the way it is now.”
“I have my job at the shelter.”
“Which is hardly enough to buy a box of cereal, let alone pay rent in Las Vegas. That’s the whole reason you still live in that crap
