“He’s an attack dog,” I said. Winston leaned against me and licked my neck. I said, “He could kill with his breath.” “Those creeps haven’t taken care of him,” Bridget said. “We’ll take him to a veterinarian as soon as we can, get him a bath, a teeth cleaning, make sure he has all his shots.” “We’re on the run for our lives,” I reminded her. “That doesn’t mean we won’t bathe and brush our teeth, Quinn.” “So you’re keeping him?” She looked back at me and smiled. “I’m keeping you, aren’t I?”
