Just A Hint - Clint. Lori Foster
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and running anytime soon.
Behind Clint, Red’s dry tone intruded. “Well, that was efficient.”
Clint struggled with himself for only an instant before realizing he had no one else to fight. He jerked around, saw Julie Rose held in wide-eyed terror, and his stomach tumbled. Mojo stepped out of the way as Clint lurched to the bushes.
Anger turned to acid in his gut.
Typically, at least for Clint Evans and his weak-ass stomach, he puked.
Julie could hardly believe her eyes. One minute she’d known she would be raped and probably killed, and the fear had been all consuming, a live, clawing dread inside her that made rational thought impossible.
Now…now she didn’t know what had happened. Three men, looking like angelic convicts, had burst into the clearing. Well no, that wasn’t right. The first man hadn’t burst anywhere. He’d strode in, casual as you please, and then proceeded to make mincemeat out of her abductors.
He’d taken on four men as if they were no more than gnats.
She’d never seen that type of brawling. His blows hadn’t been designed to slow down an opponent, or to bruise or hurt. One strike—and the men had dropped like dead weights. Even the sight of the gun hadn’t fazed him. He moved so fast, so smoothly, the weapon hadn’t mattered at all.
When he’d delivered those awesome strikes, his expression, hard and cold, hadn’t changed. A kick here, a punch there, and the men who’d held her, taunted her, the men who had seemed terrifyingly invincible to her, were no longer a threat.
He was amazing, awesome. He was…throwing up.
Her heart pounded in slow, deep thumps that hurt her breastbone and made it difficult to draw an even breath. The relief flooding over her in drowning force didn’t feel much different than her fear had.
Her awareness of that man was almost worse.
Like spotting Superman, or a wild animal or a combination of both, she felt awed and amazed and disbelieving.
She was safe now, but was she really?
One of the saviors approached her. He was fair, with blond hair and light eyes, though she couldn’t see the exact color in the dark night with only the fire for illumination. Trying to make himself look less like a convict, he gave her a slight smile.
A wasted effort.
He moved real slow, watchful and gentle. “Don’t pay any mind to Clint.” He spoke in a low, melodic croon. “He always pukes afterward.”
Her savior’s name was Clint.
Julie blinked several times, trying to gather her wits and calm the spinning in her head. “He does?”
Another man approached, equally cautious, just as gentle. But he had black hair and blacker eyes. He didn’t say anything, just stood next to the other man and surveyed her bruised face with an awful frown that should have been alarming, but wasn’t.
The blond nodded. “Yeah. Hurtin’ people—even people who deserve it like these bastards did—always upsets Clint’s stomach. He’ll be all right in a minute.”
Julie ached, her body, her heart, her mind. She’d long ago lost the feeling in her arms, but every place else pulsed with relentless prickling pain. She looked over at Clint. He had his hands on his knees, his head hanging. The poor man. “He was saving me, wasn’t he?”
“Oh. Yes, ma’am. We’re here to take you home. Everything will be okay now.” His glance darted to her chest and quickly away.
Julie realized she wasn’t decently covered, but with her hands tied tightly behind her back, she couldn’t do anything about it. She felt conspicuous and vulnerable and ready to cry. In an effort to better conceal herself, she did her best to hunch her aching shoulders before looking back at Clint.
Just the sight of him, big, powerful, brave, gave her a measure of reassurance. He straightened slowly, drew several deep breaths.
He was an enormous man, layered in sleek muscle with wide shoulders and a tapered waist and long, thick thighs. His biceps were as large as her legs, his hands easily twice the size of her own.
Eyes closed, he tipped his head back and swallowed several times, drinking in the cooler, humid night air. At that moment, he looked very weak.
He hadn’t looked weak while pulverizing those men. Julie licked her dry lips and fought off another wave of the strange dizziness.
Clint flicked a glance toward her, and their gazes locked together with a sharp snap, shocking Julie down to the soles of her bare dirty feet.
He looked annoyed by the near tactile contact.
Julie felt electrified. Her pains faded away into oblivion.
It took a few moments, but his forced smile, meant to be reassuring, was a tad sickly. Still watching her, he reached into his front pocket and pulled out a small silver flask. He tipped it up, swished his mouth out, and spit.
All the while, he held her with that implacable burning gaze.
When he replaced the flask in his pocket and started toward her, every nerve ending in Julie’s body came alive with expectation. Fear, alarm, relief—she wasn’t at all certain what she felt, she just knew she felt it in spades. Her breath rose to choke her, her body quaked, and strangely enough, tears filled her eyes.
I will not cry, I will not cry…
She rubbed her eye on her shoulder and spoke to the two men, just to help pull herself together. “Should he be drinking?”
Blondie said, “Oh, no. It’s mouthwash.” And with a smile, “He always carries it with him, cuz of his stomach and the way he usually—”
The dark man nudged the blonde, and they both fell silent.
Mouthwash. She hadn’t figured on that.
She wanted to ignore him, but her gaze was drawn to him like a lodestone. Fascinated, she watched as Clint drew nearer. During his approach, he peeled his shirt off over his head, then stopped in front of her, blocking her from the others. They took the hint and gave her their backs.
Julie stared at that broad, dark, hairy chest. He was more man than any man she’d ever seen, and the dizziness assailed her again.
With a surprisingly gentle touch, Clint went to one knee and laid the shirt over her chest. It was warm and damp from his body. His voice was low, a little rough when he spoke. “I’m going to cut your hands free. Just hold still a second, okay?”
Julie didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. She’d been scared for so long now, what seemed like weeks but hadn’t even been a full day. And now she was rescued.
She was safe.
A large, lethal blade appeared in Clint’s capable hands, but Julie felt no fear. Not now. Not with him so close.
He didn’t go behind her to free her hands. He reached around her while looking over her shoulder and blocking her body with his own. Absurdly, she became aware of his hot scent, rich with the odor of sweat and anger and man. After smelling her own fear for hours on end, it was a delicious treat for her senses. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the smell of him, on his warmth and obvious strength and stunning ability.
He enveloped her with his size, and with the promise of safety.
She felt a small tug, and the ropes fell away. But as Julie tried to move, red-hot fire rushed through her arms, into her shoulders and wrists, forcing a groan of sharp-edged agony from her tight lips.
“Shhh, easy now.” As if he’d known exactly what she’d feel, Clint sat in front of her. His long legs opened around her, and he braced her against his bare upper body. His flesh was hot, smooth beneath her cheek.
Slowly, carefully, he brought her arms around and allowed her to