Julie felt like a complete and utter idiot. One minute she’d been coping, concentrating on how good it felt to be clean, taking an inordinate amount of time to scrub her toes clean, then drying at a leisurely pace.
The next she’d felt the tears welling, the sob crawling up her throat, and she’d slumped to the floor like a wounded child. She tried to be quiet, to keep her grief private.
But Clint Evans wasn’t a man to let much get by him. It was so mortifying.
She knew Clint stood there, a mere foot away, but she couldn’t look at him, not while she huddled on the bathroom floor next to the tub, a towel wrapped tight around her body, her face blotchy from tears. She wanted to move, wanted to say something. But all that came out was a pathetic, strangled whimper of sound. A weak, girly sound.
Clint sat down beside her, uncaring of the water on the floor, of the awkwardness of the situation. He put his thick arms around her and pulled her back into his chest. “Shh, it’s all right, baby. I’ve got you.”
His crooning voice nearly melted her bones. “Don’t call me that.”
She heard his smile when he asked, “Why not?”
Julie knuckled away the tears from one eye. “It’s demeaning.” Her objection sounded weak and watery.
“It’s affectionate.”
She shook her head, making her partially braided, wet hair slap against his chin. “Go…go away, please.”
“No.”
Her hands fisted. She pressed her face to her knees, hiding. “Clint, I want to be alone.”
“No, you don’t.”
No, she didn’t. “I’m embarrassed.”
He hugged her, his cheek against her crown.
“Yeah, well, you’ll get over it, won’t you?”
A wobbly, broken laugh escaped. Such a stubborn, autocratic man! Everything he did, everything he said, overflowed with confidence. He told her she’d get over it, so she probably would. “I’m not dressed.”
“I’m ignoring that fact.”
An easy feat, no doubt. Despite his earlier compliments, she knew she wasn’t exactly the type of woman to attract him. He’d made it clear he thought her skinny—and she was. Not sickly skinny, or at least she’d never thought so. But definitely thin.
Clint probably liked women with lots of curves. His attention…well, he had a job to do and he was doing it. She wondered how much Robert was paying him. Whatever the amount, it wasn’t enough. She’d have to talk to her uncle to see if she could get him more.
She wiped her eyes again and sniffed. Clint loosened one brawny arm, reached behind him to snag some toilet paper from the roll, and handed it around to her. “Blow.”
God, her whole life was upside down. Never in a million years had Julie ever thought to be sitting on a bathroom floor in a cheap motel, mostly naked, with a hunk of a hero holding her while she blew her nose into toilet paper.
She blew.
Clint lifted the toilet lid. “Throw it in.”
He was so matter-of-fact about everything. Julie twisted a bit, aimed, and made a perfect shot.
“Good girl. Now, talk to me.”
“I’m a grown woman, not a girl. A teacher.”
“Talk to me anyway.”
“It’s stupid.”
“I doubt it.”
Her breath came a little easier with his presence. How or why that was so, she didn’t know. But with him near, the awful feelings faded away.
“I washed my hair.”
“Yeah. It smells nice.”
It did? She waved a hand toward the tiny bottle supplied by the motel. “I think it said jasmine, but anything would be an improvement, wouldn’t it?”
He propped his chin on her shoulder, ignoring her question to ask one of his own. “You’re crying because you washed your hair?”
That sounded plain silly, but the real reason wasn’t much better. “No. I wanted to braid my hair, but I realized my hands were shaking too badly to get it done. I hate weakness, and I hate relying on others. That thought led to another and I just…”
He turned his face inward, and his breath brushed the side of her neck. “It’s normal to be upset, you know.”
His breath was so hot. “It’s…it’s weak and wimpy.”
“Who says?”
More tears leaked out, and Julie swatted them away. “My father used to tease me, calling me an agitator and an activist. I’ve always taken care of myself and fought for what I believed in. I’m not used to crying and acting like a spineless wimp.”
Clint indulged a moment of thoughtful silence. “You and your father were close?”
“Very. I loved him so much, it still hurts to know he’s gone forever. And he loved me, too.” Her lips quivered, and she drew a shuddered breath.
“We butted heads all the time, you know, mostly over money. But if he were alive right now, he’d be so outraged.” She gave a choking laugh. “He’d probably be calling out the National Guard. He was always very protective.”
“He sounds like a good man.”
“The best.” Julie could feel the crisp hair on Clint’s chest against her shoulder blades. He had the finest body she’d ever seen on a man, and his strength drew her for a variety of reasons. It exemplified his capability and his masculinity, making her feel very safe. After all she’d been through, that mattered a lot.
But he looked plain nice, too, very sexy and appealing.
Even after her ordeal, she wasn’t immune. For her peace of mind, she hoped he donned a shirt soon.
“Robert told me you and your father had problems.”
“Typical stuff, nothing serious. I never doubted his love.”
“Robert gave a different impression.”
Julie thought about that for only a moment.
“Robert resented his protectiveness more than I did. It meant he couldn’t ever make use of my money for anything, even after our engagement, without my father’s approval.”
Clint said nothing to that, but Julie could almost feel him digesting the information and sorting it in his mind.
His large hands clasped her shoulders. “Hold on to your towel.”
“Why?” She stiffened, not afraid, but unsure of his intent.
“I’m going to turn you to the side a bit. I can finish your hair for you while you talk.”
That surprised her enough that she went limp while he readjusted her. She almost lost her towel, and it did slide up far too high on her thighs.
A tap sounded on the bathroom door, and Red called out, “Everything okay?”
“She’s fine.” Clint tugged on her hair. “Leave her clothes and the first aid kit there by the door, and you two go ahead and eat.”
“Will do.”
Julie peeked at Clint. He had an intense look of concentration on his face as he worked on understanding her braid. Normally, she took care of herself and refused help from anyone. She’d gotten stubborn about such things with the way her father had tried to buy her way through life. But now, she was interested enough in seeing Clint manage a braid that she didn’t refuse.
“Tell me what happened at the cabin.”
When she curled tighter into herself, he cupped her chin and brought her face around.
“I’ve retrieved men from similar situations, Julie Rose, and they’ve been as shaken as you, sometimes worse. It’s nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about, just proves you’re human. But it does help to talk about it, to get it out of your head.”
Julie felt as though she could sink into Clint’s consuming gaze. He didn’t just look at her; he looked into her, seeing her soul. No one had ever done that before. Most men looked only on the surface—and saw a strict teacher with less than outstanding looks.
Robert saw a means to an end. She knew that, just as she knew her father and Drew saw her as a princess who needed to be protected.
And the men who’d abducted her had seen her as a plaything, a way to pass the time with cruel games.
She swallowed hard and peered down at her hands, still trembling but now clean. Her nails were a ragged mess.
“It was six in the morning. I was still in bed, trying to wake up and thinking about what I had to do that day.” She frowned in stark remembrance of the moment she’d realized she wasn’t alone. She never ever wanted to feel that kind of shock again. “For some reason, the security alarm didn’t work.”
Clint’s head lifted. “You have a security alarm?”
“Well, yes. A good one—or so I thought.”
Clint appeared troubled by that, confusing Julie. “My father had it installed when I insisted on living alone several years ago. But apparently, it didn’t go off when they entered. One minute I was half asleep, and then there was something over my mouth and hands were on me everywhere and men were dragging me away.”
The panic renewed, clawing through her until she took several deep breaths, until she clenched and unclenched her hands. Clint gave her a quiet moment to collect herself, then went back to work on her hair.
“I screamed,” Julie admitted in a small, helpless tone. “It was a really startling sound, too, but there wasn’t anyone to hear and he—one of them—hit me.”
She touched her cheek where the bluish bruise could be seen. Her first glance in the bathroom mirror had been staggering. She wasn’t just a mess, she was a fright.
Using her braid to tug her closer, Clint pressed a light, tender kiss to the mark, then brushed it with his fingertips. “Go on.”
Julie held her breath and stared at him. He’d kissed her a couple of times now, small, impersonal pecks that made her feel so much better. She wondered if she’d ever get used to it.
She wondered if he’d give her the chance to get used to him.
“I was so afraid I could barely breathe.” She shivered with that ugly admission and pressed a fist to her chest. “My lungs hurt. I couldn’t seem to focus. I don’t ever want to be that afraid again.”
“We’ll make sure of it.”
The verbal commitment to her safety surprised her. She glanced again at Clint, but all his considerable concentration was on twisting her hair into a lopsided, uneven braid.
“They put me in the backseat of a car, down on the floor, and they drove for what felt like a long time. They wouldn’t tell me anything except that I should be quiet and not fight them. Then they’d laugh. Every so often they…messed around with me. Pawing me, making me think they might rape me.” Clint’s busy hands stilled in her hair, and she could feel his surging anger like the static before a storm.
“Petie seemed to be the one in charge. He…he grabbed my breast and I slugged him, but I know I didn’t hurt him. He just laughed and ripped my gown and he held me down while he went ahead and mauled at me and the others laughed…Oh, God.” Her voice had risen with the retelling, sounding as panicked and shaken as she’d been at the time until, with a gasp, she bit her lip and fell quiet.
Clint pressed his face into her neck, and Julie realized he was trembling, too, but not from fear. No, his reaction was pure rage.
On her behalf.
She tried to choke down the emotions, but still she cried. Her words were broken and raw, depicting her continued fear, her remaining terror. “They said they would rape me,” she whispered, “and I wanted to die. Only they didn’t. We got to the cabin, and they tied my hands, and then they just got drunk. Petie said something about having to wait.” She let out a shaky breath. “He said once the ransom was paid, no one would know what he did until it was too late.”
“He never mentioned any names? Didn’t give you any time frames or how much money he was talking about?”
She shook her head, almost dislodging her hair from Clint’s fist. “Mostly he just toyed with me. But if they did talk, I’m not sure I’d have remembered much. I was busy trying to think of how to get away, where I’d go if I got out the door, how I’d stop them if they tried to rape me.”
Clint looked grim, holding the end of her braid out straight. “How do you expect this to stay put?”
“Oh.” Distracted from the memories, Julie lifted the strip of material she’d torn off her ruined nightgown. She pulled the braid over her shoulder and tightly tied off the end. “My hair is bone straight, but if I braid it wet, then it at least has some body the next morning. I’ll still put it up, but it won’t seem so flat and…” Julie realized she was babbling and closed her mouth.
Clint looked troubled—or as troubled as a big warrior could look. At her sudden silence, he drew himself out of his private thoughts and smiled. “If you say so.”
“Clint?” Julie figured they might as well get it all out in the open. “I need to know who was paying Petie, don’t I?”
“Yeah, we do.”
This time she couldn’t resist. “We?”
If she’d expected a declaration of some sort, he dissuaded her from that notion. “Robert doubled my pay to keep you safe for a week. The only way to keep you safe is to find out who had you taken and why, so I can make certain it doesn’t happen again.”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” They were still sitting on the floor, and she started to stand. Her ankle hurt, but then, so did her shoulders, her neck. Her eyes burned, and her nose was stuffy. The soap from her bath had made her more aware of every scrape and cut.
“Sit tight.” Clint pressed her shoulders until she subsided. Then he stood and fetched the clothes and first aid kit outside the door. He knelt back down by her. “I want to put some medicine on those scrapes. You say the cabin was dirty, so there’s no reason to take a chance on infection.”
“I can do it.”
“I can do it better.”
Arguing with him didn’t seem worth the effort. Julie stretched out her legs and waved a hand at him. “Knock yourself out.”
Clint eyed the length of her legs for a moment, then soaked a cotton ball in medicine and, with intense focus, dabbed at her knees. Julie hissed out a breath.
“Sorry. I know it stings.” He bent to blow on her abraded skin. Julie looked at the top of his dark head, at the breadth of those remarkable shoulders, and felt breathless for an entirely different reason.
It took Clint ten minutes to treat each small mark on her body. By the time he finished, Julie wasn’t sure what she felt. Given the men from Visitation, she’d known plenty of males who were big and strong and capable, but none who had been so incredibly gentle, so careful, with her.
It was a special form of intimacy. At least, in her limited experience with men, it seemed so.
Clint was gruff one moment, tender the next.
He was her hero.
Clint eased her upward, keeping his gaze averted from her slipping towel. “Now, let’s get you dressed.”
“That I can most definitely manage on my own.”
“I’m not taking any chances.”
His determination battered her. But Julie could be just as determined. She held out her hand without a word. Clint hesitated, but finally draped the nightshirt and panties over her arm.
“Stubborn,” he muttered.
“Modest,” she countered. “Now, turn your back.”
“All right, but if you so much as breathe wrong, I’m helping.”
“Your confidence in my abilities is staggering.”
“The confidence is there, Julie Rose, make no mistake. You’re a strong woman and I respect that. But anyone would be off kilter right now. You’ve been through a hell of a lot; you’re injured and still shaky.”
She felt vulnerable enough to add, “And you want to make sure you get me home in one piece, so you’ll get paid?”
His green eyes narrowed, glittering with intent. “You got your sass back with a vengeance, didn’t you?”
Julie noticed that he didn’t deny wanting his money. Well, what could she expect? She was a job, and she should be glad that he did his work so well. “Turn around, Clint.”
He did, but not before scrutinizing her for a long, heart-stopping moment.
Keeping a close watch on Clint’s back so that he wouldn’t peek, Julie pulled on the clothes, then glanced in the mirror to make sure she was decent. The baby blue nightshirt hung to mid-thigh, and the material was thick enough to conceal her meager curves. It would do.
The braid, however, was a sight to be seen. While the part she’d braided hung smooth and straight, the one Clint had finished bent in the middle, sticking out at a funny angle, sort of clumpy. She almost laughed, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He’d tried.
“All right. I’m finished.”
Slowly, Clint turned to face her. His gaze went to her feet and crept upward before finally reaching her face. “Everything fits?”
“Yes. Your friend, Red, did a wonderful job.”
Clint reached out for her hand. “How’s the ankle?”
“I can hobble out of here, if that’s what you mean.”
“I don’t mind carrying you.”
Resolute, Julie shook her head. “Not necessary.” Teeth gritted, Julie took a cautious step and was proud of her success. Without a word, Clint picked up the first aid kit with one hand and put his free arm around her waist, half lifting her, helping her through the door and to the bed.
Rather than retreating to their own room, Red and Mojo had propped up in the opposite bed. Mojo was drinking beer and watching television. Red was on the phone, apparently speaking with his wife, given the kissing noises he made before hanging up.
Empty food containers filled the small waste can by the door, proof that they’d already eaten.
At her appearance, both men froze, staring at Julie with comical expressions that she didn’t understand until she remembered her hair. She wrinkled her nose and fingered the braid. “Clint helped me with it.”
The comical looks transferred to Clint. Red gave an ear-splitting grin. “Now, that was real nice of him, huh?”
“Shut up, Red.”
Chuckling, Red got up and moved to the only chair in the room. Mojo also stood and, without a word, went to the adjoining room to steal the chair from there. He dragged it through the doorway and in front of the TV.
Watching them rearrange themselves for her amused Julie, and touched her heart.
She smiled at Red. “Thank you for the clothes. They’re perfect.”
“The rest of the stuff is there on the dresser, including the lotion and toothbrush.”
Lotion. Funny how the small things suddenly became so precious. “Thank you.”
Clint rolled his eyes. “Quit thanking him.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not necessary.”
Red smiled. “It really isn’t.”
“Still, all the same—”
Her words broke off as Clint lifted her, set her in the bed, then helped her get settled.
“You wanna eat now?” he asked.
“Yes, but I hate having you wait on me.”
He grunted.
What kind of reply was that? Julie wondered. And she supposed if she thanked him, he’d take exception to that, too.
Using the tray Mojo had carried the food on, Clint served her a sandwich, the can of Diet Pepsi, chips, pickles, and a slice of chocolate cake.
Mojo lounged in the straight-backed chair, his long jeans-covered legs stretched out before him, his lean hands, still holding a can of beer, braced on his middle. He didn’t look away from the television when he spoke to Clint. “There’s ice in the bucket.”
“Oh, no, I like it like this.” Julie lifted the Diet Pepsi and took a cautious sip. She felt conspicuous enough as it was. Everyone else drank out of a can, so she would, too.
Clint shook his head. “He means ice for your ankle, not for your drink.” He got two towels from the bathroom, folded one to put beneath her leg to keep the bedding dry, and filled the other with ice cubes. With ultimate care, he put it around her swollen ankle. It wasn’t very comfortable, but Julie kept her winces and her gasps to herself.
Clint moved to the first aid kit and returned with three small pills. “Here, take these.”
“What are they?”
“Two tablets for pain, and an over-the-counter sleeping pill.”
Julie hesitated, unsure if she really wanted to sleep. As tired as she felt, she was still wired and anxious and…afraid. Sleeping meant nightmares, and she’d had enough of them during her ordeal.
Clint enfolded her hand in his own. “You need sleep, Julie Rose.”
He had that implacable look again, and she’d managed to draw more attention from Red and Mojo. She tossed the pills down with a drink of her Pepsi.
Satisfied, Clint put the tray in her lap and went for his own food, settling himself on the opposite bed. The sandwich looked delicious, and Julie dug in, hoping to ignore her own misgivings about the coming night. She tuned out everything other than appeasing her hunger.
She had just finished her last bite of cake when she realized that while the television still played, all three men were watching her instead of it.
Her face warmed as she dabbed her mouth with a napkin and lifted her brows. This was getting ridiculous. “Is something wrong?”
Red shook his head. “You must have an incredible metabolism.”
She saw that Clint was still eating, but she’d already cleared her plate. Her face burned even more. “I always eat more when I’m nervous.” And for some reason, though she trusted the men, she got more nervous by the second.
Clint said, “You must live a secure life free of worry, then.”
Her temper frayed. She felt so frazzled, she needed a reason to release the tension. Clint made a great big solid target. “Is that another crack about me being skinny?”
He looked surprised at her waspish tone. A reluctant grin seemed to catch him unawares. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”
Well! He’d actually admitted it! Now what?
Forestalling her response to that, Mojo got up with an elaborate stretch and turned off the television. “I’m gone.”
Red groaned. “Same here. I’m dead on my feet.”
Clint popped his last bite in his mouth. “Give me a second to shower.” He topped off the garbage with his paper plates, picked up his duffel bag, and strolled into the adjoining room without a word to Julie.
Her heart sank, and the fear she’d been trying to ignore blossomed.
Red and Mojo moved around her, taking her tray, locking the deadbolt on the door. Mojo checked the ice in the towel, replaced it, then bid her good night with a mere nod of his head.
Red paused in the doorway. “You need anything else?”
She needed company.
But she couldn’t admit that to him. She’d look weak and silly, and besides, the sun would be up in a few hours, and she had to let them get some sleep. She shook her head. “Thank you, no.”
He smiled. “All right. G’night, then.” He flipped off a wall switch, leaving the room dark except for the lamp beside the bed. The shadows seemed to expand and grow, squeezing in around Julie.
The door closed behind Red, and she was alone.
Fighting off an absurd sense of hysteria, she looked around for a distraction—but found none. The silence struck her like a roar; the darkness spread.
Well, she scolded herself, while curling her hands in the sheets, what did you expect, Julie Rose? That they’d all sleep in here with you?
Now, that’d be a scandal that’d send Uncle Drew through the roof. Julie Rose, sleeping with three men. She could just imagine the conniption he’d have.
When she realized her own thoughts, she frowned in disgust because Clint now had her calling herself by both names. Way to go, Julie. You’re definitely losing it.
Forcing herself to move, she leaned up in bed and removed the painful ice pack. There was still some swelling around her ankle, but she’d manage. Evidently, she had no choice. She couldn’t start believing in boogeymen now, just because she’d had a bad experience.
She was a grown woman, not a child, and she would not be more of a burden on these wonderful men than necessary.
As drained as she felt, they had to be exhausted, too. They’d probably been called as soon as Robert knew she was missing. Petie had told her the ransom note was sent to Robert immediately.
Her head throbbed with unanswered questions and her own sense of desolation, so Julie knew she wouldn’t sleep. She slid her legs off the side of the bed, then hopped—with some pain—to the dresser. She found the lotion and the toothbrush and toothpaste Red had purchased for her, resting among a colorful sundress, flip-flop sandals, and more panties. It took only a few minutes to brush her teeth and smooth her skin with the lotion.
And still she was antsy.
Despite the pill Clint had given her, she resigned herself to a sleepless night. Leaving the bathroom light on to chase away some of the demons, she crawled back into the bed and propped herself up against the headboard with the sheet pulled to her chin. She found the television remote and turned the set on, keeping the volume off so she wouldn’t disturb the others. Without cable, it was difficult to find a channel, but she finally located an old black-and-white western.
It beat staring at the walls, and it beat her own turbulent thoughts.
Clint cracked the door open just to check on her and saw her huddled in a tense ball on the bed. Her hands gripped the remote so tightly, he wondered that it hadn’t cracked. The television was on, but she stared beyond it, her eyes big and dark and haunted, her soft mouth pinched tight.
Well, hell.
He’d taken his shower in record time and shaved so fast he had three nicks for his trouble. He’d worried about her and, strangely enough, hadn’t wanted to leave her alone with Red and Mojo. Not that he didn’t trust them, but if Julie Rose got upset and needed to be held, he wanted to be the one to hold her.
Not any other man. Not even his best friends.
“Hey.” He spoke in a soft whisper so he wouldn’t startle her.
She jerked, looking up at him in shock. She swallowed convulsively. “I thought…I thought you went to bed.” Her voice was a high whisper, filled with a barely suppressed panic that she couldn’t hide. Not from him.
Her eyes, watchful and wary, tracked Clint as he sauntered into the room and closed the door behind him. This worrying crap was for the birds. He hated it. And if he didn’t want to worry, then there was only one thing to do.
He stopped beside the bed, leaned down, and pried the remote from her stiff fingers. He switched off the television, then went to the bathroom and turned out the light.
“What are you doing?” The words were shrill in her uncertainty.
Clint hadn’t bothered with a shirt, donning only clean shorts and jeans before coming to her. Now he pushed the jeans down and off and tossed them to the other bed.
Julie Rose stared so hard, he felt burned—but he ignored her attention the same way he’d ignored so many other things. He pulled back the sheets, slid into the bed, and patted her hip. “Move over.”
Breathless, she scrambled quickly out of his way. “Clint?”
“Shh. Let’s get some sleep, babe, okay?” He flipped off the bedside lamp, and the room was thrown mostly into darkness. Where the curtains didn’t quite meet over the window, a single beam of moonlight intruded, not quite touching the bed. Clint could see Julie Rose’s eyes shining in the darkness, and he could feel her nervousness feathering against him like the wings of a trapped butterfly.
“You’re…you’re sleeping with me?”
The hopefulness in her voice contradicted the appalled expression he was sure she wore.
“I’m sleeping with you.”
He stretched out in the bed and tugged her into the cradle of his body, her bottom to his lap, her back to his chest. Deliberately, he had one arm under her head, the other resting across her waist, enfolding her, protecting her.
She lay rigid, her breath coming too fast. It felt like hugging a skinny pole. “Relax, Julie Rose.”
A shiver ran through her, but not from the air-conditioning. This room was moderately warm, especially compared to the room the other men slept in. Her fingers fretted the blanket, and her feet kept shifting.
Finally, she whispered, “You knew I didn’t want to be alone, didn’t you?”
“I knew.”
She squirmed a bit more, and Clint had to bite back a groan as her soft rump pushed against his groin. He flattened his hand on her belly to still her.
“What will the others say?”
“Red and Mojo?”
The top of her head bumped his chin when she nodded.
“They know me.”
She twittered a nervous laugh. “Meaning, they know you’re honorable?”
Right. Honor was a sketchy thing, meaning different things to different people—or so he’d learned. “They know I’d never take advantage of you.”
They’d also know the torture of sleeping with a sexy woman whom he couldn’t touch. They’d give him hell about it later, ribbing him, but they wouldn’t say anything in front of Julie Rose.
Minutes stretched by, and Clint hoped she was falling asleep. He knew she wasn’t when she touched his hand that rested on her stomach. “You saw me.”
She’d said that in the bathroom, too, so apparently it preyed on her mind. He intuitively knew what she meant, but asked anyway. “When?”
“Back at the cabin, when my gown was torn.” He could hear her breathing. “You saw my breast.”
Her delicate fingers were busy tracing his, from his knuckles to his fingertips and back again. Though he doubted she realized it, the erotic imagery was so vivid it made him nuts. He’d love to feel her soft fingers on his cock, tracing it the same way.
Shit.
Clint caught her hand and pinned it to her stomach beneath his. He could almost feel her mind working. “Yeah, I saw you.”
“What did you think? When you saw me, I mean.”
She asked the strangest questions. “A lot of things.”
“Like what?”
He sighed. “Julie Rose.”
“What?”
Knowing she wouldn’t give up, Clint said, “I thought about killing all four of them. I thought about what I was going to do when I found the guy who’d hired them to take you.” He gave her a squeeze. “Mostly I thought about getting you safe.”
“Oh.” A load of disappointment filled that one single word.
“And I thought that you were far too pretty and petite to be mauled by those animals.”
She held silent for a few moments, then teasing, she whispered, “You thought about throwing up, too.”
“Brat.” Her silent laughter could be felt, and some of her tension eased. “No. I don’t think about that. It just happens.”
“Did you think I looked pitiful? Or pathetic?” She made that sound like the worst thing imaginable.
“Pathetic?” He grunted. “You’d just spit on Petie as if you weren’t tied and helpless,” he reminded her. “I thought you looked very brave.” Foolishly so. He’d moved to put himself in front of her before Petie could retaliate, which Clint had known he would. “I ignored your nakedness, Julie Rose, because it wasn’t important. Getting you safe was.”
She wiggled again, but quickly stilled. Her breath caught and held. She trembled.
It was a stupid question, but still he asked it. “What’s the matter now?”
Her voice dropped with shyness, with something more. She spoke so low he could barely hear her. “You’re…well, you have a…”
Hard-on. Didn’t he know it. “Yeah, but I’m ignoring that, too.”
She made a choking sound and teased, “Because it’s unimportant?”
“Because it doesn’t mean anything. I’d have to be dead to not have a boner right now, but I’d have to be a major bastard to want to do anything about it. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”
He thought he might have heard her snicker, but wasn’t sure.
“No, I’m not afraid.”
“Can you sleep, then?”
“Not yet.”
Clint started to groan, but caught the sound in time.
“You feel awfully big.”
Hell. Normally he enjoyed it when women noticed his size. But not now. He damn sure wouldn’t discuss it with Julie Rose. “Listen…”
“Do you rescue people for a living?”
A change of topic. He didn’t know if he should be relieved or annoyed. “Used to. These days I’m mostly a retrieval agent.”
“What does that mean?”
Clint carefully masked all emotion. “A repo man. People stop paying on property, I take it back for businesses.”
“Oh. Is it dangerous?”
Instead of disdain in her voice, he heard fascination.
“Sometimes. Depends on how expensive the item is, and how determined someone is to keep it, even if he hasn’t paid for it.”
“What kind of things do you repossess?”
“Anything. Everything. Most recently we took back a two hundred thousand–dollar directional drill. It’s a big, awkward piece of machinery, so even after locating it, getting it back wasn’t easy.”
“Did you have to beat anyone up?”
His mouth quirked at the way she asked that, as if she’d enjoy a gory fight story. “No. Not that time.”
“Oh.”
He should have had this damn conversation sitting up, with the lights on. But he’d honestly thought she would sleep. She had to be exhausted, and she’d taken the pill. It wasn’t strong, but she was so slightly built, it should have had some effect on her.
“What do your parents think of your work?”
“I don’t have parents.”
She twisted her head back to look at him.
“Well, for heaven’s sake, everyone has parents.”
Clint shrugged. “Not me. Not anymore. My mother left when I was a kid, and Dad died from lung cancer when I was almost eighteen.”
“I’m sorry.” She resettled herself. “My mother passed away when I was young. It was just me and my father.”
Clint gave her a squeeze of sympathy. No little girl should be without her mother.
He could almost hear her chewing over her thoughts before she asked, “Were you close with your father?”
Thinking back, Clint said, “He worked a lot, but I don’t have any complaints. He kept me fed and dressed, and we had a decent house.”
“I bet he’d be proud of you now.”
Clint lifted his head to see her. “For being a repo agent?”
“It’s an honorable job requiring a lot of skill.”
“How do you know?”
“Logic tells me that you couldn’t hire just anyone to retrieve equipment of that value. You’d need someone qualified and very capable. But actually, I meant saving people. I’m here now, so you must still do rescues sometimes, too?”
He didn’t want to share his entire life, so he settled on saying, “When the pay is good enough.”
That was a partial lie; he’d never turned down a job, because the minute he knew someone needed his help, he felt driven to try to give it. Dumb as it was, he always got too involved. Even the episode two years past hadn’t taught him his lesson.
“You’ve rescued women before?”
Memories intruded, ugly and hurtful. He pushed them aside. “Yeah. A few. Mostly it’s men, though. And a kid or two.”
Several heartbeats passed, then, “Have you ever slept with any other women?”
The workings of the female mind were a thing of wonder. Clint reached up and pinched her chin. “Like I’m sleeping with you? Or do you mean have I had sex with them?”
Not the least intimidated, she half turned toward him. “Have you?” Her gaze searched his in the darkness. “Had sex with them?”
That wasn’t what she’d been asking. He’d put the idea in her head and he cursed himself. “No.”
“Oh.” She turned back around. “Have you slept with them like this?”
“Once before.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
Why not? Maybe the story would put her to sleep. “She was a television personality, taken by some rabid fan. By the time we found her, she was injured and too weak to be moved, so I stayed with her, and Red went for help. It was during a damn vicious snowstorm, and it took till the next day for him to get back with doctors. She damn near died on me. I was afraid to be more than an inch away from her.”
“She’s okay now?”
“Last I heard, yeah. She’s since left showbiz, married, and has a baby, too.”
Julie rolled to her back to see him better. Clint was so aware of her, her scent, the soft feel of her skin, her feminine curiosity. It shouldn’t have, but it felt right to be with her like this, in the darkness, sharing intimate talk.
Damn. “Go to sleep.”
“Where’d you learn to fight?”
“Julie Rose…”
She ducked her face into his chest. “I’m sorry. I’ll be quiet now so you can sleep.”
Meaning she wouldn’t sleep. He came up on one elbow over her. “I’ll answer this question, but that’s all, okay? Then you’ll close your eyes and think nice thoughts and go to sleep. Agreed?”
Her small hand flattened on his chest, inciting his lust, pushing his control. “Agreed.”
He held her hand to keep her from stroking him. “I learned to fight in a lot of places. The army first, when I was still mostly a kid. I got out and needed more money, so I entered some fighting competitions.”
“Boxing?”
“Less structured than that.” Less legal than that.
“You just fight, any way you can, no holds barred. I won a few, lost a few, got a few broken bones, and I learned as I went along. But because it was profitable and I enjoyed it, I eventually paid more attention to techniques. I got better.”
“You got good.”
“Very good.” No bragging, just truth. He was incredibly good and when necessary, lethal.
“So how’d you end up rescuing people?”
“That’s a whole new question, but I’ll give you the short end of it. Someone who’d watched me fight had need of my help. His daughter was in a cult, and he couldn’t get to her. Being a public figure and all, he wanted to avoid scandal, so he couldn’t go to the police.”
“You saved her?”
“I got her out. Emotionally, it was an ugly place. Her parents had reason to intervene. It took about four weeks before she got back to her old self, and then she contacted me to thank me. She moved back in with her folks and finished up college.”
“A job well done.”
Julie Rose had a killer smile. The urge to kiss her mouth, to taste that smile and share in her simple happiness, churned inside him. “It happens occasionally.”
“More often than not?”
“Thankfully.” He touched her cheek and, unable to stop himself, bent to kiss her forehead. Damn it, he had to quit doing that. “Now sleep, woman. That’s an order.”
“All right.” This time he went to his back, and Julie cuddled into his side as if she’d been doing so forever. She pillowed her head on his chest and put her arm around him. “Clint?”
He gave an aggrieved groan only partly feigned. She was so soft and warm, so female, that if she didn’t go to sleep soon he’d start howling in sexual frustration.
“I’m thinking very nice thoughts. I just wanted you to know.” Her serenity seemed to waft around him, and she whispered, “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
A few minutes later, her breathing evened into sleep. Clint smiled into the darkness. God, what had he gotten himself into?
And would he ever be able to get out?