Page 28 of Not So Goode

“No mister. Just Crow. Yes, it’s my real name.” I gestured for her to follow. “Sister is this way.”

“What happened?”

“She was being harassed by some assholes. I took care of the assholes and brought her here.”

Lexie kept pace with my longer strides, that crazy ass fuckin’ skirt of hers fluttering behind her, one thick, tanned, smooth thigh peeking out every step. “You’re leaving some shit out, I feel.”

“Yeah. It was a bad scene. She was fightin’ for all she was worth and not backin’ down, but those fuckers were bad news.”

“Did they…do anything…to her?”

“Nope. Pushed her around a bit, grabbing her, pinching, shit like that. Playing with her like a cat with a mouse. Would’ve been ugly, but I saw it, and I sorted the fuckers out.”

“Not gently, I hope.”

I gave her a glimpse at the violent wolf lurking inside me—I sensed this girl was far less innocent than her older sister in the dark and unfriendly ways of the world. “No. I was not gentle.”

She paused, stared up into my eyes, assessing. As Charlie had said—there was a wild glimmering intelligence in those dark brown eyes. This girl was more than half-wild; a fey spirit, Mammy would have called her.

“Good,” she said, nodding once, firmly. “I hope they piss blood for a week.”

“Had to be dragged to the med tent,” I said. “Pissing blood will be the least of their concerns.”

She nodded again. “You have my approval, Crow. Thank you for taking care of my sister. She’s going through a hard time. We both are, but she’s not usually like this. Doesn’t cut loose much. I took my eyes off of her for ten seconds and she was gone.”

“No worries. It happens.” I led her to the trailer, where we found Charlie passed out, the bottle of water about to fall out of her hand. “Here she is.”

Lexie settled on the couch beside her sister, took the water from her, set it aside, and let Charlie slide sideways to lay in Lexie’s lap. “Got her. Thanks.”

I nodded. “Okay, you guys just stay there, yeah? There ain’t really backstage passes at this disaster of a festival, but I’ll make sure my guys know you’re cool to be here. Just don’t go wandering off.”

She gave a two-fingered salute. “I will stay my ass right here, Mr. Crow.”

I knew she was just goading me with the mister, so I ignored it. Charlie was slumped sideways, both hands pillowed under her cheek on Lexie’s bare thigh. That long, thick herringbone braid of glossy black hair slipped sideways and dangled off the edge of the couch, until Lexie gathered it up, tossed it behind Charlie’s back. Brushed at her cheek.

I had shit to do, so why was I rooted to the damn spot, staring at a passed-out angel? It could have been the way her breasts were piled up under her arm and about to fall out of the front of her plain black V-neck. Or the tender skin of her throat, pulsing with her heartbeat. Or the curve of her thigh rounding to hip and buttock. The soft breath, or the small hands curled under her cheekbone.

Innocent.

Made my heart skip, lurch, and then thunder.

Idiot.

I yanked myself around, forcefully, stomping off to work—I had to bust ass like a motherfucker to get all Myles’s guitars unpacked, set up, plugged in, tested, and tuned, leaving Betty-Lou for Myles to take care of. I had cut it close, that was for fuckin’ sure—I was still testing the Fender Strat, his latest acquisition, a pretty little classic black-and-tan number with beautiful sound when the stage manager notified us that it was two minutes to go time.

Myles was side stage, jumping up and down on his toes, slapping his hands against his thighs, shaking his head, humming scales and then singing them, high to low to high, warming up his voice. Shaking his hands. Rolling his shoulders.

He saw me, let out a short, sharp breath. “There you are, you lazy bitch.”

I just slapped his back. “Kill ‘em, buddy.”

“Oh, I’ll kill ‘em.” He smirked. “Just like you about killed those poor bastards.”

“They were—”

He cut me off. “I heard.” He craned backward, peering into the trailer. “Passed out, huh?”

“Yeah.”