Clint dropped onto the threadbare couch, settled back and put his feet up on the coffee table. “Anything new?”
“Maybe. And I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
So far, he hadn’t liked anything to do with Julie’s kidnapping. “Let’s have it.”
“Petie wasn’t arrested with the others. He got away.”
“Shit.”
“That’s not all.” Mojo hesitated for only a second before adding, “Now he’s missing.”
Through the kitchen doorway, Clint could see Julie moving around. She’d finished her breakfast and was pouring herself more coffee. “What do you mean, he’s missing? Red can’t find him?”
“You know Red, he can find out anything about anything. But thanks to the car registration, getting Petie’s address was a piece of cake. Thing is, he’s not there.”
Red had connections that boggled the mind. The man seemed to know an insider everywhere. “So Petie’s lying low.”
“I don’t think that’s it. I went to his place and snooped around. Someone ransacked his apartment. It wasn’t vandalism, it was a search. Drawers were dumped, and all the typical hiding places were gone through. Pain meds were still on the counter, and since I figure you broke his jaw, he’d have taken those with him if he just wanted to hide out.”
Julie went to the sink and ran hot water to wash the dishes. Clint’s gaze never left her. He noticed that she wasn’t favoring her ankle this morning at all. “I’ll go have a talk with Asa.”
“Let me know when, so I can back you up. Red has some commitments with Daisy, but I’ve got the day free.”
Glancing at the wall clock, Clint said, “I’ll leave here in about an hour.” Julie started to hum, again drawing his attention. She opened the cabinet beneath the sink and bent to retrieve the dish liquid. Thanks to her lack of panties, Clint got an eyeful. “Damn.”
“What?”
He cleared his throat. “Nothing.”
Mojo wasn’t one for idle chitchat, so he didn’t question Clint’s distraction. “Allowing you time to get there, let’s say ten—”
“Make it noon.” Clint stood, his muscles already twitching in carnal anticipation.
“Noon?”
“Is that a problem?” He detoured into the bedroom, grabbed up a condom, and headed for the kitchen.
“No.”
“Good. I’ll see you then.” Clint hung up the phone.
Julie turned with a smile. “Is everything all—”
He smothered her mouth with his own, not as gentle as he should have been, unable to temper the need.
Odd, given how many times he’d already had her, but hunger raged inside him. Julie was here, with him, in his kitchen, in his life. Damn it, already in his heart.
She pushed back. “Wait.”
Trying to collect himself, Clint breathed hard. Jesus, he’d all but mauled her. She deserved some tenderness. She deserved special care. “Julie Rose, I—”
She turned off the water, dried her hands, jerked off his shirt, and pressed herself back to him. “Okay.” Her eyes were already soft and dazed. “Now.”
Clint had never considered himself a particularly lucky man—until Julie Rose came into his life.
Scooping an arm below her knees, the other around her back, Clint lifted her to sit on the edge of the table. He shoved his jeans down, tore open the condom packet, and rolled the rubber on with shaking fingers.
The second he moved toward her, Julie opened her arms—and her legs.
Much more of this and he’d probably die of a heart attack. A guy his age could only take so much stimulation.
He caught her shoulders and pressed her flat to the table. “Put your legs around my waist.”
She did so immediately, breathing hard, squirming in an effort to rush him. Her heels dug into the small of his back and her slender thighs squeezed him.
“You want me, Julie Rose.”
“Yes. Right now.”
“You’re not ready yet.” He moved against her, stroking her vulva with the head of his cock, feeling her open to accommodate him, how wet she got with each glide across sensitive flesh.
“But soon,” he whispered in awe, “real soon.” He bent and put his hot mouth around one nipple.
Her nails bit into his shoulders. “No teasing now, Clint. I mean it.”
He believed her. “All right.” He repositioned himself and sank into her. Julie cried out, a sound that went straight to his heart, twisting the emotion and need inside him.
She tipped her head back, her mouth open, her expression contorted in the way of undiluted pleasure, natural and real, like Julie herself. Clint pounded into her, harder, faster…He felt the heat rise and knew it was all over for him.
“Ah, fuck,” he groaned, and began coming with no way to stop it.
Julie’s eyes opened, and their gazes clashed. He got lost in her acceptance, felt more connected to her than to any other human being he’d ever known.
Unable to bear it, he kissed her, hard, rough, his tongue in her mouth, and before he finished his release, she tightened around him, her thighs quivering, her hands knotted in his hair. He swallowed her raw cries, cradled her to his chest, and let her ride out the storm.
Leaving her today would be hard.
Leaving her forever would be…impossible.
Clint had a lot of things to think about, so why was he still dwelling on Julie Rose? Damn it, he had to clear his head, not picture her sighing softly on the kitchen table, so spent that her independence hadn’t been an issue, and she’d let him take care of her. Never before had he wanted to pamper a woman, but with Julie Rose, he took as much pleasure in bathing her, in cuddling her, as he did in making love to her. It was different, for sure, but still so damn enjoyable.
He had to stop thinking about the trusting way she let him use her body, as if she knew in her heart that he wanted only to bring her pleasure.
Urging her to take a nap, he’d carried her to his bed, tucked her in, and kissed her goodbye.
But now, he had to concentrate on business.
He glanced behind him as he went up the walk to Asa’s place. Discreetly positioned, Mojo could keep an eye on things. If Clint didn’t return in ten minutes, Mojo would come for him. Not that Clint expected any problems; he and Asa had an understanding now, and while Asa was a cold-blooded crook, he had his own code of ethics. Mojo was there because, understanding or not, Clint didn’t take chances, especially not when Julie Rose depended on him.
Before he reached the front door, one of Asa’s jackals confronted him. Clint remembered the fellow’s name was Trent.
At his most polite, Clint said, “Tell Asa I want to see him.”
“He’s not seeing anyone today.”
Eyes direct, body language clear, Clint took one step up the porch. “Be a good lad, Trent, and tell him anyway.”
His pride ruffled, Trent tapped on the door and relayed the message to another. A minute passed, and Clint was given entrance. Trent glared at him as he went past, but Clint ignored him. He didn’t waste time gloating or prodding a lackey.
Though noon had come and gone, Asa sat at his kitchen table, dressed in a black and red silk robe with the newspaper spread out before him. Fragrant coffee steamed from a mug at his elbow. A carafe and a plate of fruit pastries were close at hand.
Clint nodded his greeting. “Sorry to disrupt your morning.”
Asa lounged back. “It’s more afternoon than morning, but such is the life of a man in my position. Business is best late at night, and I enjoy the luxury of sleeping in. Coffee?”
“Thanks.” As long as they kept things cordial, Clint might obtain some much needed info.
Asa motioned for a young woman to bring another cup to the table, then dismissed her. They were left alone.
Indicating Clint should help himself to the sugar and creamer, Asa said, “I’m pleased that you obliged my wishes.”
Clint threw one spoonful of sugar into his coffee, took a drink to gather his thoughts, then met Asa’s smug satisfaction. “How’s that?”
“You killed Petie.”
Clint paused. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His senses screamed an alert.
“Petie’s dead?”
Asa’s smile faded into a formidable frown. “You didn’t kill him?”
“I punished the bastard, just as I said I would. I broke his jaw and gave him more bruises than he could count.” Clint set the coffee aside. “But no, I didn’t kill him.”
Two seconds passed before Asa began laughing. Given his deep, rough voice, his laughter sounded more like the croup than any type of amusement. “A broken jaw, eh?” He laughed and laughed some more. “Fitting. Petie was a pain in the ass, a punk who ran his mouth far too often.”
“Whatever he was, the question remains: Who the hell killed him?”
Lifting rounded but still bulky shoulders, Asa said, “That, I do not know. I assumed it was you, so I made no inquiries. A dangerous thing, assumptions. But he is dead. He was found late last night in a parking lot in the downtown area.”
Asa named the bar and the location, a place Clint recognized as common ground for many crimes. Only thugs hung out there. “How’d he get it?”
“Three close shots.” Asa touched his stomach, his chest, and then, making a gun of his fingers, shot himself in the head. “Whoever killed him made sure he was dead.”
“Any suspects?”
Laughing again, Asa said, “I thought it was you. But if you mean the boys in blue, they’re likely stumped, and given Petie’s lifestyle and where he was found, they’ll dismiss it as a random act of violence, a fitting end to the type of life he led.”
“But it wasn’t random?”
“I think not.” Asa eyed Clint. “My expert opinion? He was killed so that whatever information he had would die with him. The plot thickens, doesn’t it? What did Petie know, who hired him, et cetera, et cetera.”
Jesus, the situation seemed to grow worse rather than better. Clint stared down at his coffee a moment, lost in thought.
Asa said, “Shall I assume if you broke Petie’s jaw, you rescued the lady?”
“Yeah.”
“She was…” Asa hesitated, and something very ugly darkened his face. “Unharmed?”
Knowing exactly what Asa meant, Clint tightened, always on the verge of anger when he thought of what Julie Rose had been put through. “She wasn’t raped, but they threatened her with it.”
“Then Petie is lucky he’s dead.” Asa’s raw voice barely rose above a whisper. “I have no tolerance for rape, and if they threatened it, they would have done it. Eventually.”
“Yeah.” Clint shook off the awful thoughts. He had to keep his head now. Julie needed him to figure things out. “She’ll be okay.”
Asa curled his mouth into a cynical smile. “Because you’ll make it so?” He lifted his coffee cup. “Sounds to me like you’re getting personally involved.”
Clint was about to comment on that when Asa suddenly looked toward the kitchen doorway. His expression was at first alarmed, then magically transformed into a gentle smile of welcome. “Marie. How long have you been waiting? Come in.”
He stood and held out his arms. A strikingly beautiful woman with Asa’s dark coloring came cautiously into the kitchen. Petite but lushly built, dressed in expensive, feminine clothes, she embraced her brother while stealing a wary glimpse of Clint.
Odd, Clint thought as he, too, pushed back his chair in respect. How could a man as cold and ruthless as Asa look so adoring and protective when holding his baby sister? And baby sister described her, because she didn’t look to be more than twenty-one or twenty-two.
The woman seemed so skittish, Clint wondered how much she’d heard.
“Marie,” Asa said with a flourish, “this is Clint, an acquaintance of mine.” Beaming with pride, Asa added, “Clint, my sister.”
Clint held out his hand. “Ma’am.”
While Marie did have her brother’s hair color and skin tone, her eyes were a startling light blue. They were eyes that would capture a man’s attention—and Marie must have realized that, given how she quickly, almost fearfully, averted her gaze. She accepted Clint’s hand in a brief, barely polite greeting.
“I’m sorry that I’ve interrupted your discussion. It sounded…important.”
Asa responded with emphatic denial. “You can never interrupt, you know that.” He kept his arm around the woman. “My sister is quite shy,” he told Clint.
Clint remembered what he’d been told, that Asa’s sister had been brutally raped, and that her mother had died trying to protect her. Sympathy welled inside him. With stylish clothes and attention to hair and make-up, Marie attempted to look as composed as any other woman. But the turbulent emotion in her face told a different story. Her brother might not see it—but Clint did.
Using the awkward moment to make his exit, Clint said, “I’ll leave so you two can chat. Asa, I appreciate the coffee and your time.”
Asa nodded. “Now that you have me intrigued, you will keep me informed.”
It was a demand, not a question, and Marie’s gaze moved between the two of them. Clint shrugged. “Odds are, you might know before I do.” He slid a business card across the table. It listed an untraceable phone number, no name, no address. “I check the number daily.” Clint glanced at Marie, and found her staring at his card. “Ma’am.”
Her head jerked up, her smile forced. “Goodbye.”
Asa moved protectively to her side, and as Clint left, he heard Marie whisper, “Why was he here? You said something about a woman…”
Asa shushed her. “Don’t fret over it, Marie. The woman is fine. Clint is taking care of her.”
“But who is she? Where is she? What—”
And then Clint couldn’t hear anymore. He frowned, thinking that Marie’s voice sounded familiar, and was bothered by the depth of her interest. No woman should have suffered what she did. He hoped the men who hurt her had gotten retribution. Knowing Asa, they surely had.
The second Clint got in the truck with Mojo, he told him about Petie.
Mojo digested that information with typical introspection. “Now what?”
Until Mojo asked, Clint wasn’t sure what his next move should be. Then he made a sudden decision based solely on gut instinct. “I’m going to go see Robert, Julie Rose’s ex-fiancé. Know where he lives?”
Mojo nodded and put the truck in gear.
It wasn’t a long drive, maybe a little over a half an hour. But all the way there, Clint’s tension rose. He knew something was wrong, though he had no idea what. “Keep your eyes open. This feels messed up.”
“Maybe you should skip it.”
“Can’t.” Clint opened the truck door. “I have to find out what the hell’s going on. Just keep watch. I should be back in ten.”
Clint strode up the spotless walkway and rapped on the front door. No one answered. He leaned on the doorbell, and when that still didn’t produce results, he slipped a small case out of his pocket. Extracting a long, thin metal pick, he jimmied the lock with the expertise of a professional burglar. The heavy, ornate door swung open on well-oiled hinges.
Given the deadbolt had been left unlocked, maybe Robert wasn’t even home. But Clint still wanted to have a look around. Senses finely tuned to any noise or movement, he methodically went through each downstairs room until he heard a slight noise from the kitchen.
His knife was at the small of his back, his gun in an ankle holster. He could get either one in less than two seconds if necessary, but so far, he didn’t feel the need to have them in hand.
Following the sound, Clint made his way down the hall, through the dining room—and there, at the kitchen table, his face so bloody and swollen it was barely recognizable, sat Robert. Clint stared in shock at the damage done to him.
Robert half slumped at the table with a steaming cup of tea in front of him and a bottle of pills at his elbow. The poor bastard. Someone had worked him over good.
Clint leaned into the doorway. “I want to know what’s going on, Robert. And I want to know now.”
Robert would have jumped in surprise if he’d had the energy. But he hurt everywhere, the pain sinking in each day, growing worse and worse instead of better. “Evans.” His words sounded like mush, formed by his thickened lips and swollen jaw. “What are you doing here?”
Clint strode forward and pulled out a chair. “You’re alone here?”
Robert half shrugged. “Other than you.”
Seating himself, Clint nodded. “Good. How about I ask the questions, and you do your best to answer them, leaving out the bullshit and half truths for a change.”
Hands shaking, Robert extracted a tiny pill and placed it gingerly in his mouth. The hot tea burned his split and bloodied lips, making him wince. He nodded, then lifted a hand toward the teapot. “Tea?”
Clint looked around before leaning his elbows on the table. Robert knew the kitchen was a mess, but he hadn’t dared let anyone in, not even the cleaning lady.
He peered at Clint. “You locked the door again?”
That chilling gaze that Robert remembered so well settled on him. “A locked door won’t keep you safe if someone wants to pound on you again.”
“I know. But I don’t want Drew or…anyone else to come in and catch me like this.”
“Anyone else, meaning your girlfriend?”
Robert could tell that Clint expected him to lie. But lying had gotten him nowhere, and now he had to change tactics. “Yes. She’d be very upset to see me like this.” The irony of it struck him, and he gave a gasping, pain-filled laugh. “Especially if she found out who did it.”
Clint stared at him as if he could see his soul. And maybe he could. Robert wouldn’t put it past him.
“Who did?”
Another sip of tea didn’t bolster his courage at all, so Robert gave up. He had a feeling Evans would find out one way or another anyhow. “Asa Ragon.”
A chill seemed to enter the room. “I just saw him.”
That startled Robert. “Why? You said he didn’t have Julie.”
“He didn’t. He also didn’t have bloody knuckles, so try again.”
Robert managed a smile that felt like a train wreck. “I misspoke. Asa had me beaten. He just watched.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Money, why else?” But if Asa ever found out that Robert was involved with Marie…God, he’d probably blow his brains out.
It took Clint a moment, and then understanding showed on his face. “The building he wanted to sell. He’s making you pay him for what he lost when the sale didn’t go through?”
Robert saluted him. “At least I made a good decision when I hired you.”
In a lethal voice meant to instill fear, Clint said, “That remains to be seen, Bobby. So, why don’t you go to the cops?”
“I can’t.” Not without losing Marie, and that he wouldn’t do.
Clint didn’t push that just yet. Instead, he shrugged as if Robert’s decision didn’t really concern him. “Fine. You don’t want to involve the cops, that’s your business. Then just pay Asa and be done with it.”
“I don’t have the money.”
Evans picked up a gold-edged spoon, a china cup, then eyed the rest of the kitchen, which had cost over a hundred thousand to redecorate.
“Right. Try again.”
“I don’t, damn you.” Losing his temper hurt, and Robert moderated his tone. It took him a second to catch his breath, to tamp down the agony that movement caused. “Most of my money is in investments and stock…”
“So cash in.”
He shook his head. “Drew is involved in almost all the same enterprises. He’d know if I extracted money, and then he’d ask why. He has a lot of influence—ask Julie if you don’t believe me. He could have me cut out of almost every deal. If Drew wished it, I would be broke within a month.”
Without an ounce of sympathy, Clint said, “Julie walked away from his money. Why don’t you?”
Temper frayed, Robert pushed his fists against the table and half stood, which was all he could manage without some help. “Julie’s not in love, damn you!”
Oh, God, it hurt to breathe, hurt to move. Robert sank back into his chair with a shuddering groan—then groaned again when he saw the awful expression on Clint Evans’s face.
Lips tight, eyes narrowed, Clint whispered, “Who do you love, Robert?”
It was all over, Robert knew it. The best he could do now was follow Clint’s example and be a man, be honorable and brave and try to help Julie the best he could. She deserved at least that much from him. “Not Julie, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I wasn’t thinking that. Not for a single second.” Suddenly his eyes widened, his expression filled with incredulity. “Oh, shit no. Even you couldn’t be dumb ass enough to fall for Asa’s sister.”
Robert met his gaze without flinching. “Yes.”
“Damn it. I knew her voice sounded familiar.”
Robert didn’t understand, and before he could question Clint, his tone grew softer, more menacing. “Did you have Julie kidnapped, Robert?”
“No.” Robert squeezed his eyes shut. “I swear to God, I didn’t. I honestly thought Asa had taken her, as a threat against me because of the money he feels I owe him. That was bad enough, with my guilt almost eating me alive. But now…I don’t know why anyone would want to hurt Julie.”
As if he had all the time in the world, Clint stood. He came around the table and put an arm around Robert.
Panicked, Robert said, “What are you doing?”
“Helping you to the couch. I have a friend who can look you over, see if you need any medical attention. Something tells me you haven’t been to the hospital.”
“No, I don’t want to see anyone—” Humiliation cut off his words as Clint more or less lifted him and took him to the den. “Bastard.”
Clint laughed. “Yeah, save that for someone who gives a shit about your opinion, Burns.” He put Robert on a leather sofa. “We have a lot of talking to do, and you can’t do it without a little medical attention first.”
Panting in his pain, sweating with it, Robert leaned back on the couch. Clint left the room, but returned less than a minute later with an eerily silent, black-eyed man who looked like he hated the world and everyone in it.
Without a word of greeting, ignoring Robert’s groans and gasps of agony, the dark man moved him so that he lay flat. He started an inspection that didn’t take Robert’s dignity into consideration. He wasn’t actually rough, but he sure as hell wasn’t gentle either.
“Some cracked ribs. Broken nose.” The man stood. “Nothing too serious.”
Robert hurt all over, and this devil said it wasn’t too serious? “I am so reassured,” Robert quipped.
Clint laughed. “Amusing, isn’t he?”
The other man shrugged. “I can fix the nose.”
“The hell you will!” His outburst cost Robert, and he reclined with a moan.
They continued as if Robert wasn’t in the room. “Nothing can be done for the ribs. He needs to stay still and rest.”
Clint leaned down and looked Robert in the eye. “C’mon, Bobby, don’t be a baby. Your nose is crooked as a dog’s hind leg. Do you want it to stay that way? Do you want it to look like mine?”
“God, no.”
“Then buck up and try not to cause a fuss.” Clint stepped out of the way, and the dark man loomed over him.
“Close your eyes.”
Because Robert didn’t know what else to do, he closed them. Warm, hard fingers clasped the bridge of his swollen, aching nose, and a second later, he heard a loud snap. He shouted with the awful pain—but then it was over.
“Keep some ice on it to make the swelling go down.”
Robert just lay there, speechless. How the hell had he sunk so low?
Clint dragged a heavy, stuffed cherrywood chair over close to the couch. “Now. Let’s talk.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You can start by telling me more about Marie.”
That alarmed Robert as nothing could have.
“Why?”
Clint didn’t cut corners. “Because it occurs to me that she has more reason than anyone else to want Julie out of your life. And with her brother’s connections, it’d be easy enough for her to have orchestrated a kidnapping.”
Robert shook his head.
“Also, Petie, the man who had Julie, was executed at close range. If it is Marie, she’s playing a very dangerous game with very dangerous people.”
“No.” Robert would never believe that of her. Sure, she was jealous of Julie, but she was also sweet and kind and gentle. She was nothing like her brother. “Marie is innocent in all this. She’s—”
“Listen to me, Burns. Somehow all this fucking drama is connected to Julie’s abduction, and I’m going to figure this out, even if it kills you.”
That caused Robert to do a double take. If it killed him? But he’d known from the start that Evans was capable of killing. And at the moment, despite the calmness of his voice and his relaxed position in the chair, he looked almost anxious to do so.
“Look at it this way,” Clint said. “If Marie is involved she could be in serious danger.”
Robert gulped. With no choices left to him, he did as Clint Evans insisted: he talked.
Clint’s mind cramped as he drove toward his apartment. For half an hour he’d tried to talk himself out of his worry, but damn it, Julie Rose did bring out the old lady in him. He’d fretted more since meeting her than he ever had in his entire life. He might as well get a cane and park his sorry ass in a rocker, because around her, he’d definitely lost his edge.
He tried to tell himself to stop worrying, that she was safe in his apartment. She’d promised to stay put, and as Julie liked to remind him, she was smart enough not to put herself at risk.
But damn it, he’d lived by his instincts too long to dismiss the fear completely. It had begun creeping up his spine the moment Asa told him Petie was dead. And when he saw the job done on Robert, and realized Robert was involved with Asa’s sister, it’d taken all his control not to rush home.
He was only another ten minutes away, but still…
Cursing himself, Clint drew out his cell phone and dialed the apartment number. On the third ring, just when he’d been ready to panic, Julie picked up. “Hello?”
She sounded breathless and rushed, and relief washed over him in a debilitating wave. “Hey, babe.”
“Clint? Hello! Where are you?”
“Just a few minutes away. What took you so long to answer?”
“Carmen’s cutting my hair.”
His heart stopped. His stomach hit his knees. Then he roared, “She’s what?”
“Don’t you yell at me, Clint Evans. It’s my hair, and I’ll do with it whatever I please.”
All kinds of awful, mind-boggling disasters flooded his brain. He envisioned her soft brown tresses lopped off at her ears, or teased out the way some hookers wore it. Or…Damn it, he liked her hair the way it was. He liked the texture, the length, the color.
“She did my make-up, too. I look so different.”
No, fuck no. Through his teeth, Clint rasped, “You tell Carmen I’m on my way, to stop whatever the hell she’s doing.”
In her prim teacher’s voice, Julie said, “I’ll do no such thing. Besides, she’s almost done now. Goodbye.”
And she hung up on him.
Pedal to the metal, Clint slipped through a yellow light, took a corner a little too fast, and swung his jeep into a parking space with panicked precision. Bounding up the stairs two at a time, he reached the hallway just as Carmen’s door shut.
So she’d run off, had she? The coward.
He looked at his apartment door and his blood ran cold. He’d rather face a gang of knife-wielding hooligans than see Julie done up like a whore.
And he’d rather take a beating than hurt her feelings.
Drawing a fortifying breath, he put his key in the lock, opened the door, and stepped in.
In the kitchen doorway, outlined by sunlight through the window above the sink, Julie stood uncertainly, waiting for his reaction.
Wow. And…wow again. Clint absently shoved the door shut behind him, unable to drag his gaze off her.
“Well?” Julie asked.
He shook his head. He got hard. He swallowed. “You look…great.” And she did. Bless Carmen.
Her smile did it, pushing him right over the edge. “Didn’t Carmen do an incredible job?”
Again, Clint nodded, words beyond him.
Julie laughed. Holding out the sheer gauze skirt that just skimmed her ankles, she turned. Her hair, now trimmed to just below her shoulders and lying in soft curls, swung around with her. The skirt was some pastel flowery pattern, paired with a pink tank top. She was barefoot, but wore an ankle bracelet, and her eyes somehow looked bigger, her lashes longer, though whatever make-up she wore was so subtle, Clint couldn’t quite pick it out.
He started for her.
Julie ducked behind the couch. “Oh, no you don’t. Not until you apologize to Carmen.”
In a stern tone, Clint said, “Come here, Julie Rose.”
As usual, his stern tone had no effect on her. She laughed again, her eyes twinkling, her cheeks either flushed or rosy with make-up. “You have to apologize, Clint. You might have hurt her feelings.”
Clint circled the couch, keeping Julie in his sights. “Did she say that?”
“No, she thought it was funny that you got mad.” Julie circled, too, staying just out of reach.
“Don’t make me chase you, baby.”
Wagging a finger at him, she laughed almost hysterically. “You have to behave.”
Clint shook his head. “I’ll behave. I’ll even apologize. Later.”
Julie kept backing up. “Now, Clint…”
Done waiting, desperate to hold her, to prove that she was okay and his, Clint went over the couch to get her. Julie screamed and turned to run.
And Clint’s door banged open with so much force, it bounced off the wall.
Clint realized that he’d forgotten to lock it just as two big men filled the doorway. They both looked disreputable, but for different reasons. Clint took their measure in the blink of an eye. One was big all over, oozing menace, prepared to fight. The other wore tattered jeans and a snug black tee, with long, unkempt hair and the scraggliest beard Clint had seen in this century.
Damn it, he’d put Julie at risk with his carelessness. In a single leap, Clint placed himself in front of her, protecting her with his body. The two men faced off with him, the bearded one somewhat distracted, the other balanced in the way of a man familiar with hand-to-hand combat.
It was a standoff, but Clint wasn’t about to wait for someone else to act first. He attacked.
And all hell broke loose.