“They tend to eat what is in season,” Monty replied. “And the supplies that come in from the earth native farms differ from week to week.”

“You let me know what the women want to do about sharing the meat ration. I’ll participate.”

Monty studied his captain. “But you don’t usually eat in the Courtyard.”

Burke said nothing until they pulled into the station’s lot. “I think I should for a while, don’t you?”

• • •

“I’ll take one of those lasagnas,” Jimmy said. He wasn’t sure what kind of freak ran the Market Square butcher shop. Wasn’t one of the Wolves, because the freak had brown feathers in its hair.

“Four pieces of lasagna is ten dollars. The dish is an extra five. You bring back the dish, we refund the five.” The freak pulled out a ledger, opened it to a flagged page, and made a notation.

“What’s that?” Jimmy asked.

The freak didn’t answer. He set aside the ledger and sealed the package of lasagna just as Sierra walked into the shop.

Jimmy smiled, pleased that she hesitated when she saw him. Bitch should hesitate. Bitch had a lot to make up for.

“Hey there, Sissy,” he said pleasantly. “Did you have a good day at work?”

“Yes, I did.” She approached the counter, still watching him, trying to assess his mood. As she should. Then she turned to the freak. “Hi, Boone. I’d like a package of lasagna.”

Brown eyes stared at her. “That’s four pieces.”

“My mama is having dinner with me and the girls.”

More marks on the ledger. Shit. The freaks were keeping tabs on what was bought and how much? Well, he’d just have to figure out how to get around that in order to assure his customers that he could deliver a steady supply and quantity of meat.

Jimmy slanted a glance at Sissy. Wouldn’t be that hard, with a little help from someone who owed him.

He waited for her, walked out of the shop with her. Once they were outside, where there was bound to be something watching them, he closed his hand on her carry sack. “Let me carry that for you.”

“It’s all right,” she said hurriedly. “I can . . .”

Cross me on this, and you will pay.

She read the threat in his look and released her hold on the sack. “Thanks, Jimmy.”

Gods, the bitch even thanked him. Could it get any better?

They walked through the Market Square’s open area. They walked through the employee parking lot to the wooden door that opened onto what had been the customer parking lot when some of the stores had been open to the general public. And they dashed across Crowfield Avenue to the apartment building.

The building’s outside door wasn’t locked at this time of day, but the bloodsucker on guard would be nearby. While Sissy opened the door and blocked the view of anyone inside, Jimmy slipped her carry sack into his own. Nothing suspicious about consolidating packages.

He had his apartment door key in his hand and was turning toward the apartment when she started to reach for her carry sack, then stopped, confused—and a little frightened.

“Jimmy . . .”

“That’s all right, Sissy.” His smile and friendly voice were at odds with the look in his eyes. The look was a warning to Sissy. The rest was playing to the unseen audience. Here was the kindly brother bailing out his little sister again—and providing a reason for any sniffling and whining the bitch might do. “You can pay me back whenever you get the money.” Next time he squeezed her for a little cash, the dumb-ass bloodsucker would confirm that she owed him money. How good was that?

Pleased with himself, Jimmy walked into his apartment and shut the door in Sissy’s face.

Sandee met him in the kitchen, looking disheveled and pouty. Gods, what had he ever seen in her?

“Here.” He pulled one of the lasagna dishes out of the carry sack. “Dinner. I get half. You and the brats can have the rest.”

“That’s not enough,” Sandee whined. Her eyes fixed on the second lasagna when he put it in the fridge. “And you got another one.”

“That’s business,” he snapped. “If I see so much as a spoonful of it missing, you’ll end up with broken fingers and a few missing teeth.” He rounded on Clarence and Fanny, who stood in the kitchen doorway. “And that goes for you too.”

“Don’t you be talking to your children like that,” Sandee protested.

“Who says they’re mine? Got no proof they’re mine.”

“Jimmy,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

“If you want to do that shit, do it somewhere else,” he snapped. “If you want to eat, get this heated up.”

Sandee sniffled and brushed at her eyes, then picked up the lasagna, busying herself at the counter. The kids slunk away, which was fine with him. He settled at the kitchen table and watched Sandee struggle to remove the simple clips that held the cover to the dish. He didn’t trust her. She’d gobble up some of the food cold and then try to split the rest.

That ledger at the butcher shop was going to be a problem. But he’d find a way around it.

• • •

Heading to the grocery store in the Market Square to pick up some greens for a salad to go with the lasagna Sierra had picked up for dinner, Twyla saw her daughter dash into the butcher shop, not even having the courtesy to thank Vladimir when he opened the door for her.