by Lori Foster
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 a
nd 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.
Chapter Twelve
Clint took a swing at the bearded guy, but, without thought or effort, he somehow managed to duck. In no hurry, without a care, he moved to the side and raised a brow in inquiry.
Clint never missed, and the fact that he had now set him off. He turned to the other man, who backed up one step.
“Now, hold up just a—”
Clint didn’t let him finish. This guy was the bigger of the two, and Clint sensed he was more of a threat. With practiced ease, Clint turned on him, grabbed his arm, and twisted it painfully behind his back. At the same time he crossed his other arm around the man’s thick neck. After locking the hold in, Clint could choke him out or break his arm or his neck with little effort. Most men would have been groaning in agony, but this one just went still.
Julie jumped up and shouted, “Oh, my God!”
The man Clint held didn’t groan. No, instead he said, “Damn, woman, what have you done with yourself?”
Seeing red, Clint started to twist the arm a little more, but Julie rushed forward.
Still holding perfectly still, the man said, “Honey, if you don’t want him neutered, you better tell him to turn me loose.”
Julie gasped, and said to the man, “Don’t you dare hurt him.”
Outrage knocked the wind out of Clint. “Don’t hurt me?”
Her new hairdo mussed, her eyes dark with nervousness, Julie rounded on him. “Now, Clint, this is not a time to be macho.”
Dumbfounded, Clint stared at her. She dared chastise him with two intruders present? His temper shot up another notch, on the verge of erupting. Teeth locked, he explained, “I’m the one in control, Julie Rose, in case you failed to notice that.”
But then the man he held said, “Actually, if you’d care to take a peek, I could remove your balls at any second.”
Scowling at that too-calm, almost amused tone, Clint indeed looked down. And he saw a shiny, sharp blade held in the big bruiser’s left hand, now pressed just below his testicles.
Ho boy. Clint hadn’t even seen him draw the knife. He squeezed the right arm an inch higher. “Drop it.”
“As soon as you turn me loose, I’ll do exactly that.” Then he said, “And, Jamie, I swear to God if you choose this particular moment to laugh, I’ll brain you.”
Jamie? Clint felt as if he’d been dropped into a circus. “Jamie Creed?”
“Oh, now you did it,” said the man threatening his family jewels. “He’ll think he’s famous, and we’ll never get him to quit being such a weirdo.”
Fathomless eyes stared at Clint, sending a shiver down his spine. “Joe’s not going to hurt you, and you’re not going to hurt him.”
A groan nearly escaped Clint.
Everything started to sink in. It couldn’t be, but still he asked, “Joe, as in Joe Winston?”
A robust laugh filled the air. “Julie, have you been telling tales out of school? Now give, honey. What have you said about me?”
Joe Winston was obviously a lunatic. Clint was prepared to break his arm or neck or both, but all he wanted to do was joke. Pissed, Clint released him with a shove hard enough to knock him to his knees.
He didn’t even stumble. But he did flip his knife a few times and then tuck it away in a blur of motion. As if Clint had asked, he said, “It’s a balisong, or butterfly knife. Comes in handy sometimes.” He added in idle warning, “I’m real good with it.”
“I can see that.” Trying to regain his aplomb, Clint crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Julie. “You invited them here?”
She gasped so hard, she damn near knocked herself over. “No, I did not! I told you I wouldn’t tell anyone.” She marched up to him and pointed a finger at his face. “You’re never going to trust me, are you?”
Joe dropped his big, hulking body down onto the couch with a sigh. He crossed his arms behind his head, crossed his ankles on Clint’s table. “Actually, she called Shay, so this number was on the caller ID. No one thought anything of it until Jamie showed up in a tizz swearing the world was ready to end. Then Bryan and I—Bryan is Shay’s husband and a real handy fellow with tracking people down—did some checking and traced the number back here.”
“My number is unlisted.”
“Yeah.” Joe bobbed his eyebrows and grinned. “But I know people. Bryan knows people. It was easy enough to get the info.”
Clint understood that, because he knew people, too. “I don’t believe this.”
In an exaggerated, soothing tone that irritated more than anything else, Joe said, “Why don’t we close the door and all relax? Then we can figure out why the hell Jamie dragged me here, claiming Julie was in serious peril, on the verge of death, when it looks to me like she’s just having a good old-fashioned flaming affair.” He winked at Julie. “And by the way, good for you, hon, on the new look and the fling.”