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“Still a fucking cat.”

Vin glared at him.

Bruce glared right back.

Misty finally lost the battle and laughed. “So basically, I was right.”

“No,” Vin answered, a small grin tipping the corner of his mouth as he looked at Misty. “I’m a predator, not a house...cat.”

“Buddy, those are fighting words, and if I didn’t have to take a massive shit right now, I’d show you exactly what these deadly weapons can do.” Bruce lifted a paw and extended his claws, which, if Misty was being honest, weren’t all that impressive. After giving them both a good look at his so-called deadly weapons, he retracted them and turned his attention to Misty. “Now, how about a cup of coffee or two as a thank-you for protecting you all night on the hard, cold ground?”

“Um, well, first off, I never asked for your protection, and second, I don’t have a kitchen or a coffee pot.” Misty shrugged.

Bruce stared at her for a second. “Well, this morning just keeps getting shittier.”

Misty rolled her eyes as she watched Bruce stomp away. Feeling Vin staring at her, she looked his way. “Listen, I appreciate you staying, but you really didn’t have to. I’ll be fine. Griffin’s caw is worse than his bite.”

“His caw?” Vin frowned, cocking an eyebrow.

“He doesn’t bark.” Misty said it as if this were information he should already know. “He’s a Crow, not a dog.”

“Yeah, I got it.” Vin’s expression turned serious. “Crow or dog, he has a serious issue with you, and that shack offers you no protection.”

Misty glanced toward it, knowing he was right. She hated that he was right, but that didn’t change anything. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Actually, you do.” Vin crossed his arms over his chest, and Misty’s gaze betrayed her by dropping to his muscled arms. The man was built, no doubt about that. Realizing he’d caught her checking him out again, her eyes shot back to his. The slight grin tipping his lips told her he hadn’t missed a damn thing. “The place I’m staying would be perfect for you. Billie Ann said you asked about a job, and it’s close to the bar. It’s small, but it has a lock on a door that won’t collapse under a strong breeze.”

“Thanks, but I probably couldn’t afford it.” The words were out before Misty could stop them, and she immediately wished she could take them back. It had been embarrassing enough practically begging Billie Ann for a job. For some reason, having this handsome man know just how broke she really was bothered her even more. “This is fine for now.”

“How much are you paying for this place?” Vin nodded toward the shack.

“Why do you care?” Misty asked instead of answering.

“Because I do.”

That was it. No explanation. He just stood there stubbornly waiting for her to answer.

“Three hundred,” she finally huffed.

Vin’s eyes widened as he looked at the shack, then back at her. “You have got to be kidding me.”

She wished she was. “Nope.”

“And what do you pay for your...dues?” Vin growled, his eyes narrowing.

“Depends.” Misty glanced toward where Bruce had disappeared, wishing the damn cat would hurry up and come back. Seriously, how long did it take for a cat to take a dump?

“On?” Vin pushed, drawing her attention back to him.

“I’m not really sure. It’s different each time.” She hated how foolish that sounded, but she had asked why the amount changed and where the money went. That hadn’t gone over well. Apparently females asking questions wasn’t something the Murder or Jack Crow appreciated.

“Come on.” Vin uncrossed his arms and started walking.

“Where are we going?” Misty called after him, not moving.

Vin stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. “To get you the hell out of here.”

Misty glanced at the shack, then back at Vin as he started walking again. With a sigh, she followed because, if she was being honest with herself, she wanted to get the hell out of there too.