Just A Hint - Clint. Lori Foster
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“The bust will be legit.”
Clint smoothed away a smudge of dirt on the side of her jaw. “They’ll do some time, but you won’t have to be involved.”
Of course, Red had gathered up plenty of info first, including the registration that had been left in the car. If they managed to escape the cops, Clint knew who they were, and he’d know how to find them.
What he didn’t know was who had hired them, because they hadn’t known. They were given money and instructions by another street thug who worked for an anonymous man. Robert? Asa? Clint had no idea. And he had no way to find the one responsible. Yet.
Julie didn’t look quite convinced, so Clint added, “I didn’t think you’d want them in the van with us.”
Defeat took the tension out of her spine, and she slumped against him. “You’re right.”
He’d expected hysterics, shock. She was too composed and he didn’t like it. He wanted to keep her talking. “Do you know any of their names?”
“Just Petie.” She shivered again from saying his name. “He was the worst.”
Clint gave her a reassuring hug.
“Did you really break his jaw?”
“Yeah. I’d have done more than that if you hadn’t gone and fainted on me.”
Her eyes searched his, looking for answers. “You were worried about me?”
“Let’s just say I prioritized.” Clint had had his hands full of soft, limp woman, so he’d left the questioning to his friends. “One of them never came to.”
“Do you think he was dead?”
“No. He had a steady pulse.” She hadn’t sounded particularly upset by the prospect of death, just curious. But there was still a small frown on her brow, a look of discomfort, confusion. Clint leaned down to see her averted face.
“Julie Rose, are you—”
“I’m fine.”
Her rushed reply came a little too fast to suit him. “You don’t have to tell me any of the details if you don’t want to, but—”
“Us.”
“What?”
She glanced at him, at the front seat of the van where Mojo and Red sat, then down at her lap. She curled her legs under the skirt of her tattered gown. “There are three of you,” she emphasized in a low tone, “and they’re certainly close enough to hear, so anything I say would be to all of you. The proper pronoun would be us, plural.”
He supposed that was the teacher in her coming out.
After that small lecture, she avoided his gaze. “Do you want to introduce me to your friends? I don’t even know some of their names yet.”
To Clint’s speculative eye, she looked a little woozy, in pain, and God knew she was babbling. But she’d awakened as easily as she’d passed out.
And he was still worried.
Clint propped his back against the side of the van and nodded. “Yeah, sure. Why not? It’s not like we’ve got more important stuff to talk about.”
She glared at him, pleasing him with her gumption.
“The driver is Red, and the man staring at you is Mojo.”
As if they’d known each other a long time, Julie cuddled comfortably into his side. Her tangled, shoulder-length hair tickled Clint’s skin as she nestled her head against his chest. He noticed she had a couple of broken fingernails when she rested one slim hand across his bare abdomen. When she turned her body toward him, her thigh half covered his.
Damn. She was crawling onto him, getting under his skin so fast that it made his head swim.
To distract himself, Clint stared down at her exposed ankles and bare dirty feet.
“Red and Mojo? But what are your real names?”
Red chuckled while maneuvering through the dark night. Clint knew he hadn’t missed a thing, that he was aware of little Julie Rose holding on to him for dear life. But Red would never make her uncomfortable by mentioning it.
“Oh, no.” Red shook his head. “Forget it. You don’t need to know my real name.”
Mojo muttered, “Hell, I don’t even remember mine anymore.”
Julie smiled. It was an amazing sight, that small, sweet smile.
Her fingertips absently curled against Clint’s skin in a discreet caress that about made him nuts. “So Mojo and Red, I suppose I owe you my thanks also. Your timing was a little off—I mean, a few hours earlier would have been better—but still, you did get me away before they could do what they really wanted to do, and I’m eternally grateful.”
“What did they really want to do?”
She frowned at Clint. “Don’t growl at me.”
“Answer me, Julie Rose.”
Rolling her eyes, then quickly turning her face down so that her false bravado couldn’t be unmasked, she said, “They wanted to…rape me.”
“Is that right?”
She nodded. “They said so enough.”
“They told you they were going to rape you?”
“Yes, after they got the money. Then they’d have killed me. They told me that, too.” She drew a breath and deliberately lightened her tone.
“But thanks to all of you, their plans were routed.”
The men shared a look of understanding. Red spoke first. “We’re glad we could help.”
Julie held silent for a long moment. “Do you do this for a living, then? Run around rescuing people, I mean.”
Clint felt aggrieved. There were things they needed to ask her, things they needed to know. She was dirty, bruised. She’d fainted. And she wanted to indulge in chitchat. “Julie Rose—”
Without lifting her head from his shoulder, she tipped her face up to him. “Why do you keep calling me by my first and last name? Just Julie will do. I mean, you’re my champion, right?” She gave a nervous little laugh. “We should be on a first name basis.”
He liked her name, and he liked her. However, keeping an emotional distance was necessary, and he could help accomplish that by not getting too friendly.
When he didn’t answer, she sighed. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”
Clint dropped his head back against the side of the van and closed his eyes. Why the hell was she so chatty?
Julie nudged him. “Did any of you get hurt?”
Clint squeezed her to let her know that was something of an insulting question. He decided to get things back on track. “Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
Red again spied her in the rearview mirror, and he smiled. “We’ll be on the main road in another ten minutes. I’ll pull into a fast-food place and get you something. Anything in particular sound good?”
“Yes. Whatever you see first. That sounds perfect.” She smiled at Clint. “Do you see how I’m actually answering questions, not just ignoring them? It’s easy enough to do. I’m sure you could manage if you try.”
Clint’s eyes widened. She’d just chastised him, and her efforts at subtlety were absurd. “I have questions,” he told her, and though he didn’t mean to, he frowned.
Julie nodded. “Okay, but we’ll take turns.” She peeked up at him. “I suppose you’ll insist on going first?”
Mojo