by Lori Foster
“Spill the lowdown, Clint.” Emilio kept pace with his friend. “Someone got the sneak on you?”
“Don’t get any ideas,” Clint warned.
“Not me.” He held out both hands. “I like wearing my head on my shoulders, instead of up my ass.”
The boys all chortled again and even shared a few high fives.
“Language,” Clint reminded them wearily, knowing it wouldn’t do him any good. But the offender did offer a fast apology.
“So spill it. You were fighting one dude and another sucker punched you?”
“They hit ya in the head with something?”
“I bet Clint did some ass-kickin’, for sure.”
They were at his door now, and Clint tried to ignore their enthusiasm as he fished his keys out of his pocket. He knew the boys suffered something close to hero worship, and he’d tried to use it to influence them for the better. But sharing ass-kicking stories with them wouldn’t convince them to live on the straight and narrow. “It was nothing.”
Julie puffed up with pride. “I struck one of them.”
“No shi—er, no kidding?”
Dwayne said, “You protected Clint? Now, ain’t that sweet.”
Knowing a barb when he heard one, Clint rolled his eyes.
“I couldn’t let him be hurt,” Julie explained.
“It happened quite fast, and I didn’t have time to think things through. Otherwise, you understand, I’m against violence.”
“Ain’t we all,” Dwayne drawled with a grin.
“How’d they get him? Clint usually knows everything that’s going on.”
Julie cleared her throat. “Well, you see, Clint and I were…necking, I suppose you could say.”
Three pairs of jaded eyes blinked. Dwayne screwed up his mouth, trying not to laugh. “Makin’ out, huh? Where was this?”
“In Clint’s jeep.”
The boys all looked at Clint. Marlin winked.
“Smooth moves, dawg.”
“Then,” Julie said, regaining their attention, “someone grabbed Clint, and he got pulled out of his vehicle and onto the ground, and he hit his head quite hard. It made a horrible sound.”
“Probably cracked the concrete, too.”
For that clever quip, Marlin and Emilio slapped hands in another high-five salute.
Julie smiled with them. “I grabbed a stick from the floor. I knew it was there because it had made my trip most uncomfortable. I couldn’t get my feet settled.”
Clint frowned at her. “If you were uncomfortable, you should have said something.”
Chin in the air, she sniffed. “I didn’t want to talk to you then.” She turned back to the boys. “Anyway, they had wanted to steal Clint’s wallet. I used the stick to wallop one of them, and then Clint took over and made mincemeat of them, and finally four police officers arrived to haul them away.”
Clint turned the key in the lock and shoved the door open. “Inside, Julie Rose.”
She held out her hand to the boys. “Thank you for your help.”
Flustered by her, the boys each shook her hand.
They were almost inside when Dwayne said, “You want Carmen to take a look?”
Clint said, “No,” at the same time Julie Rose inquired, “Carmen?”
“Yeah. She was a doc back in the day. Still looks after most of us when we get banged up.”
Seeing that Julie wanted to accept, Clint took her arm and pulled her into the apartment. “Thanks, guys, but there’s no reason to bother Carmen. I’m fine.” He started to shut the door, then thought to ask, “Where’re you headed, anyway?”
Guilt flashed on three cynical faces. Marlin said, “Just hanging out.”
Knowing he lied, Clint kissed Julie’s forehead and said, “Give me a minute.” Then he stepped back into the hall and pulled the door shut. Because he knew Julie would try to open the door, he held onto the doorknob.
And she did try.
Holding the knob secure, Clint asked, “Where are you really going?”
Dwayne curled his lip. “Just a party, man. No big thing.”
“Right.” Clint marveled that the boys’ parents never seemed to keep tabs on them. They had far too much time to get into trouble. “There’ll be drugs there? Booze?”
Emilio shrugged. “We’ll have a few beers, that’s all. No need to freak.”
“It’s mostly the trim we’re after anyway,” Marlin added with a sly grin and bobbing eyebrows.
Clint’s stomach churned. “You’ve all got protection?”
Dwayne laughed. “I’m carrying my knife.”
Clint wondered if he should confiscate the knife. But hell, in this neighborhood, they might actually need the thing. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Rubbers. Yeah. I got it covered.” Then Dwayne glanced at the closed door and grinned. “Why? You need to borrow a couple?”
Clint caught Dwayne by the front of his shirt and rattled him a little just to get their attention. “I’m serious. Do I need to drag your sorry asses down to the clinic to show you what STDs look like? Do you want to be pissing through a Grinch ornament?”
“Shit no, man.”
“Then take my word for it, some chances aren’t worth taking. Even with a rubber, if you don’t know the girl or she looks like she’s giving it away too easy, pass on it.” He tapped Emilio on the forehead. “Think with the big head, because it’s the one that should have the most sense.”
Dwayne pulled away and straightened his shirt. “Damn, dude, lighten up. It’s just a party.”
But they all three looked more somber.
Clint shook his head, then smacked Marlin on the shoulder. “Why the hell I care about you sorry sacks, I don’t know. But you’ve grown on me.”
“Like a wart?” Dwayne teased.
“Exactly.” He considered all three again and knew he didn’t have the right to harangue them too much. “If you get into trouble, give me a call.”
“You’re the man.”
Emilio didn’t immediately follow his friends. He studied Clint and then held out his fist.
“Thanks.”
Clint tapped it with his own. “Just stay out of trouble and think before you do anything.”
Emilio nodded. “Keep it real.”
Feeling like a damn grandpa, Clint watched him go. He opened the door and found Julie Rose in tears. “What the hell?”
She threw her arms around him and squeezed him with all her puny strength. Her lips brushed his throat as she babbled. “I could hear every word.”
Unsure of her mood, Clint gingerly put his arms around her waist. “Yeah? Sorry about that.”
“You were very good with them.” She sniffled, and Clint felt her tears dampen his flesh. “What’s a Grinch ornament?”
Grinning, Clint said, “You remember the Grinch?”
“Yes. A holiday character. Skinny and green…Ewww. That’s disgusting.”
He laughed. “I know. I just hope they got the picture.”
“I think they did. They respect you. That’s plain to see.”
Did they respect him enough to avoid the temptations of their environment? Clint didn’t know. “So why are you in here sniveling and carrying on?”
She laughed, sniffled again, and wiped her eyes. “Because you’re wonderful.” She pulled back and touched his face with shaking fingers. “The most wonderful man I’ve ever known.”
And according to her, she knew some real paragons of machismo.
Clint’s head hurt. Bad. But at that moment, with Julie Rose smiling up at him, her big brown eyes liquid, her soft mouth quivering, he couldn’t pay any attention to the pain. He wanted her mouth—under his mouth, on his flesh, sucking, biting…
A teasing rap sounded on the front door. “The doctor is in. Open up.”
Clint groaned.
In a whisper, Julie asked, “Who’s that?”
“Carmen.” He released her and stepped back.
“Brace yourself, b
abe. Carmen is probably different from any of the women you’ve known.”
That was all the warning Clint gave her before opening the door. Carmen burst in, her arms open to embrace him, her body more uncovered than otherwise. She wore skin-tight black slacks and a barely buttoned sleeveless white blouse that did nothing to conceal generous breasts and dark nipples.
Dainty sandals covered her feet, and her toes and fingernails were painted fuchsia. Her dark exotic looks made her a showstopper. Her proclivity for drugs and prostitution made her a woman to be pitied.
At least to Clint.
He allowed her the embrace, but turned his face before her mouth could find his. “Bring it down, doll. I clunked my head and it hurts like a son-of-a-bitch.”
“I know, poor baby.” She pursed her red lips and cooed at Clint. “That’s why I’m here. I saw Emilio on my way in, and he told me all about it.”
Julie stepped forward. “Hello.” She held out a hand.
Carmen gave her the same look she used for insects. “Who are you?”
Still smiling in sweet welcome, Julie said, “A friend of Clint’s. The boys told me you were a doctor. I’m glad you’re here. I’m afraid Clint might have a concussion, but he’s flatly refused to go to the hospital.”
Cautiously, briefly, Carmen took Julie’s proffered hand. “The boys?”
“Emilio, Marlin, and Dwayne.” Julie softened her voice. “They are boys, you know. I doubt any of them are eighteen yet.”
Feeling unaccountably proud, Clint put his arm around Julie. “Emilio will be eighteen in a few more months.”
She leaned toward Carmen. “Doesn’t matter. You know how boys are—they mature much slower than females.”
Carmen raised one carefully drawn brow. “Yes, they do. They can be fully grown and still be little boys.”
“And this one”—Julie hugged Clint’s arm—
“he’s like all males, stubborn and too proud. He’s definitely hurt, but doesn’t want to admit it.”
Carmen made a tsking sound. “Macho, all of them.”
“True, true.”
Clint couldn’t believe his own eyes. Damn, but Julie had made fast friends with Carmen when usually Carmen pulled out the claws on other women. Men, she loved. Women, she saw as competition. But despite Julie’s obvious claim on him, Carmen behaved.
“So,” Carmen said, “let’s go have a look at you.”
A little dazed by the female bonding process, Clint led the way to the kitchen. He pulled out a chair, turned it backward, and straddled it. “I just got dinged, Carmen. It’s no big deal.”
Julie shook her head and proceeded to the refrigerator. She located a bag of frozen peas.
Carmen smiled. “I’ll see for myself—oh, my. That’s one impressive ding.” She pressed and prodded, then moved to the front of Clint and stared at his eyes. “Any blurred vision?”
“No.”
“Dizziness?”
“Nope.”
“Did you lose consciousness when you struck your head?”
Julie said, “Yes,” as Clint said, “No.”
Gasping, Julie said, “You did, too!”
His back straightened. “Don’t call me a liar, Julie.”
His dark tone left her unfazed. “Then don’t lie.”
“I’m not.” His head probably ached more from gritting his teeth than being conked. “I had the wind knocked out of me, that’s all.”
Carmen’s gaze went back and forth between them. “Interesting.” She gave her attention back to Clint. “The symptoms of concussion are amnesia, loss of consciousness, headache, dizziness, blurred vision, attentional deficiency, and nausea.”
“All I’ve got is a headache.”
She nodded. “Headache, of course, isn’t confined to concussion. Other symptoms that shouldn’t be ruled out are irritability—”
“He’s often irritable,” Julie muttered.
“—impaired coordination, sleep disturbance, noise or light intolerance, lethargy, behavioral disturbance, and altered sense of taste or smell.”
“I’m hungry, not the least lethargic, and I can smell your perfume just fine.”
Carmen grinned. “Then I suppose you’ll live.” She turned to Julie. “But if any of the other symptoms should show, I’d get him to an emergency room whether he wants to go or not. Better safe than sorry.”
Like a soldier taking orders, Julie all but saluted. “I’ll see to it. Thank you.”
Rather than leave, Carmen strolled to the sink and began making coffee. “So, while I get some coffee brewing, you can talk to me. What’s the story with you two?”
“Story?” Julie pressed the frozen veggies gently against Clint’s skull. It felt good. He hadn’t been pampered in…well, never. But Julie seemed content to stand there behind him, holding the icy bag in place, so he let his head drop forward and sighed.
Carmen pulled a pack of cigarettes from the waistband of her slacks and struck a match. She puffed—
And Clint, without lifting his head, said, “Not here, doll. You know better.”
“You are such a stick in the mud.”
“Coffee, cola—but no smoking. Take it or leave it.”
She wrinkled her nose at Julie while stubbing out the cigarette in the sink. “He does like to lay down rules.”
“I’ve noticed that.” Julie frowned. “But he’s correct about the smoking. It’s very bad for you.”
Carmen laughed. “God, I can see the two of you will get along just fine.” She slanted Julie an appraising look while putting her cigarettes away. “You two an item?”
Julie opened her mouth—and Clint squeezed her knee in warning. Julie tended to be far too trusting, and while he cared for Carmen, she was an addict and that made her impossible to trust.
Julie caught his hint and fell silent. Clint said, “She’s a friend of the family.”
“I didn’t know you had any family.”
“What?” Clint asked. “You think I crawled out from under a rock?”
Carmen shrugged. “So, she’s staying with you?”
“Temporarily. Her belongings got snatched during her travel. She lost everything, and she doesn’t want to finish her trip until the cops recover her stuff.”
With the coffee preparations complete, Carmen rejoined them at the table. “That explains the awful dress.”
Julie looked down at herself. “I rather like it.”
“Oh, please. Was your make-up stolen, too?”
Julie blinked, and admitted a bit sheepishly, “Actually, I never got the hang of make-up.”
“Ohhh. Uncharted territory.” Carmen rubbed her hands together. “Trust me, honey, I can do you up right. We’ll have a blast.”
Alarmed by the idea of Julie changing, Clint said, “Now, Carmen—”
Julie beamed. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”
Clint said, “Shit,” but the women ignored him.
Settling back in her chair, Carmen eyed Julie up and down. “You’re not that far from my size, either, so I could probably loan you some of my old clothes.”
“Really?”
“You’ll need a padded bra, though.”
“No, she does not.”
Smiling, Carmen propped her head on her fist and winked at Clint. “So defensive over a mere pal?” She laughed. “Trust me, honey. If she wants to fill out my blouses, she’ll need some help. That’s all I meant.”
The coffee finished sputtering, and Carmen got up to pour three cups. A hostess by nature, despite the debilitating effects of the drugs, she set a mug in front of Clint and one in front of Julie, along with sugar and a carton of milk.
“I’m taking mine home with me, so Clint can rest.” She saluted him with her coffee. “But, Julie, honey, give me a call tomorrow and we’ll do a makeover. Clint has my number.”
“A makeover on me? Really?”
“Head to toes. It’s long past due.” She wagged her fingers at Clint. “Too-da-loo, love.”
&nbs
p; Julie handed the frozen vegetables to Clint and went hobbling after Carmen to the front door. Clint groaned. Julie might not realize it, but her personality made her potent enough already. Carmen’s idea of a makeover would no doubt emphasize Julie’s sexuality, and that’d be more than he could take.
He pictured Julie in the getup Carmen wore, and his head swam. Damn. He heard the front door close and knew he was all alone with her now.
“Lock the door, Julie Rose.” For the next few hours, he didn’t want any interruptions.
Chapter Nine
“I don’t know why you thought I might not like her,” Julie said as she reentered the kitchen. “She’s charming.”
Julie Rose was definitely unlike any other woman he’d known. Rich, but she didn’t look down on Carmen. Skinny, but with more spirit and backbone than most two-hundred-pound men. “She’s an addict and a hooker.”
“I didn’t realize she had a problem with drugs. That’s so sad.” Julie took her seat opposite Clint and reached for her coffee. “But I’ve known other hookers.”
Clint fell back in his chair. “Come again? No, wait. More of the sterling specimens from your beloved Visitation?”
Julie grinned while sugaring her coffee heavily. “Visitors to Visitation, actually. Well, except for Cyn. She married Bruce and stayed.”
“A preacher and a hooker…never mind. I don’t want to know.” He reached across the table and took Julie’s hand. “Listen to me. Carmen is nice enough when her head is clear. But her entire existence is desperate, and desperate people can’t always be trusted. You’re not to tell her anything about being kidnapped, about who you really are or where you’re from.”
“All right.”
Clint’s eyes narrowed. “Are you humoring me?”
“Of course not. I’m not stupid, and I already told you I trust you. If you don’t think it’s safe, then I don’t think it’s safe.” She patted his hand. “There’s no reason for you to fret.”
“Women fret, men do not.”
“Oh? Then what would you call it?”
“I’d call it trying to keep your sweet ass out of trouble.”
Her gaze lowered, but he could see the smile on her mouth and the flush in her cheeks. “Do you really think my, er, ass is sweet?”