Just a Hint--Clint

by Lori Foster

  Mojo seemed to read his thoughts. “Think the recording will tell us anything?”

  “I hope so. But I’m not taking any chances.” Clint watched Mojo to judge his reaction to the altered plans. “I’m not letting her out of my sight till I know it’s safe.”

  Mojo gave him a long look, but said nothing.

  Ten minutes later, Red came in, toting a large bag fully stuffed. He closed and locked the door behind him, then looked toward the bathroom. “She still in the tub?”

  Clint frowned. He knew damn good and well where his thoughts were, so he could easily guess what the others were thinking, too. He didn’t like them picturing her naked. Hell, he didn’t even like himself picturing her naked. “You know women. I suspect she’ll be in there awhile.” He nodded toward the bag. “You get everything?”

  Red grunted. He upended the bag over the bed and dumped out the contents of light, feminine clothing. “She had me buy panties.” He picked up a pair of miniscule nylon underwear and waved it at Clint. “Size five. Can you believe that? If Daisy sees the charge on our credit card, I’m going to have a hell of a time explaining.”

  Smiling, Clint took the underwear. “Daisy trusts you or she’d have divorced you by now.”

  They were chuckling when the soft sob struck them all at once. It was just a small muffled sound, but it was a sound that struck terror in most male hearts.

  Clint jerked to attention, Mojo stilled as if he’d turned to stone, and Red frowned fiercely. Another small, nearly silent sob reached them.

  “Damn.” With a helpless expression, Red looked at the other two. “She’s crying?”

  Clint was at the bathroom door in an instant. He paused, shook his head with uncertainty, and tapped lightly. “Julie Rose?”

  He heard sniffling, then a husky, “Go away.”

  Like hell. He said over his shoulder, “Wait here,” and got a mute, horrified response from his friends.

  He didn’t wait a second more. Clint opened the door and walked in.

  Chapter Four

  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.”

  Cl
int 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 st
ings.” 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.