Page 16 of Crow Me A River

“Hmmm.” Bruce looked back toward the shack. “Well, she’s home, if you can call that a home, so what are you still doing here?” His eyes narrowed as he gave Vin a sideways look. “Ah, is that blood on your shirt?”

“Yes.” Vin reached for his jacket pocket and frowned when his fingers brushed against something that definitely hadn’t been there earlier. Pulling it out, he stared down at a lacy, light-purple bra.

Bruce’s eyes widened. “Ah, is that a bra?”

Vin barely had time to register what he was holding before Bruce leaned closer for a better look. He quickly shoved it back into his pocket.

“You dirty dog.” Bruce sounded downright impressed. “Man, you move fast. Is that Misty’s?”

“Shut the fuck up, cat.” Vin growled the warning as he glared at him. “I found her swimming in the lake when Griffin and his thugs showed up.”

“That explains the blood,” Bruce cut in, still eyeing the pocket like the bra might make another appearance.

“After they were taught a lesson, she got out of the water and dressed. I gave her my jacket because she was cold, and she must have put it in the pocket.” Vin stared at Bruce, daring him to say another fucking word. “End of story.”

Bruce remained quiet for all of two seconds.

“Hell of an ending,” he finally said, sounding way too pleased with himself.

Vin slowly turned his head and glared at him. “Let it go.”

“Oh, I’m letting it go.” Bruce nodded, then ruined it by adding, “Just saying, if I ended up with a woman’s bra in my pocket, I’d probably lead with that part of the story.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“No.”

Vin should have known.

He turned his attention back to the shack, doing his best to ignore the cat sitting beside him. The light inside was dim, but every now and then he could see Misty’s shadow move past the window. Knowing she was inside and safe should have been enough to get his ass up and leave, yet he made no move to do either.

Bruce didn’t seem to be in any hurry himself.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The woods had gone quiet around them, and Vin found himself listening for anything out of place. After what happened at the lake, he wouldn’t put it past Griffin to wait until he thought Misty was alone before coming back. The Crow had been humiliated in front of the males who followed him, and men like Griffin didn’t usually handle humiliation well.

A faint sound coming from the shack caught Vin’s attention.

“What’s that?” Bruce asked, his ears perking forward.

Vin held up his hand for him to be quiet as he listened. At first, he thought it was music coming from somewhere farther away, but then the sound grew clearer.

A guitar.

Bruce’s head tilted. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Vin glanced toward him. “You didn’t know she played?”

“Nope.”

The guitar continued, slow and soft, drifting through the thin walls of the shack and into the woods surrounding them. Vin leaned back against the tree, listening and then Misty started to sing.

Every thought in Vin’s head disappeared.

Her voice was soft at first, almost as if she were singing only for herself, which he guessed she was. She had no idea they were sitting out here listening to her. As her voice grew stronger, Vin found himself completely caught up in it.

“Holy cat shit,” Bruce whispered.

For once, Vin agreed with him.