by Lori Foster
The braid, however, was a sight to be seen. While the part she’d braided hung smooth and straight, the one Clint had finished bent in the middle, sticking out at a funny angle, sort of clumpy. She almost laughed, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He’d tried.
“All right. I’m finished.”
Slowly, Clint turned to face her. His gaze went to her feet and crept upward before finally reaching her face. “Everything fits?”
“Yes. Your friend, Red, did a wonderful job.”
Clint reached out for her hand. “How’s the ankle?”
“I can hobble out of here, if that’s what you mean.”
“I don’t mind carrying you.”
Resolute, Julie shook her head. “Not necessary.” Teeth gritted, Julie took a cautious step and was proud of her success. Without a word, Clint picked up the first aid kit with one hand and put his free arm around her waist, half lifting her, helping her through the door and to the bed.
Rather than retreating to their own room, Red and Mojo had propped up in the opposite bed. Mojo was drinking beer and watching television. Red was on the phone, apparently speaking with his wife, given the kissing noises he made before hanging up.
Empty food containers filled the small waste can by the door, proof that they’d already eaten.
At her appearance, both men froze, staring at Julie with comical expressions that she didn’t understand until she remembered her hair. She wrinkled her nose and fingered the braid. “Clint helped me with it.”
The comical looks transferred to Clint. Red gave an ear-splitting grin. “Now, that was real nice of him, huh?”
“Shut up, Red.”
Chuckling, Red got up and moved to the only chair in the room. Mojo also stood and, without a word, went to the adjoining room to steal the chair from there. He dragged it through the doorway and in front of the TV.
Watching them rearrange themselves for her amused Julie, and touched her heart.
She smiled at Red. “Thank you for the clothes. They’re perfect.”
“The rest of the stuff is there on the dresser, including the lotion and toothbrush.”
Lotion. Funny how the small things suddenly became so precious. “Thank you.”
Clint rolled his eyes. “Quit thanking him.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not necessary.”
Red smiled. “It really isn’t.”
“Still, all the same—”
Her words broke off as Clint lifted her, set her in the bed, then helped her get settled.
“You wanna eat now?” he asked.
“Yes, but I hate having you wait on me.”
He grunted.
What kind of reply was that? Julie wondered. And she supposed if she thanked him, he’d take exception to that, too.
Using the tray Mojo had carried the food on, Clint served her a sandwich, the can of Diet Pepsi, chips, pickles, and a slice of chocolate cake.
Mojo lounged in the straight-backed chair, his long jeans-covered legs stretched out before him, his lean hands, still holding a can of beer, braced on his middle. He didn’t look away from the television when he spoke to Clint. “There’s ice in the bucket.”
“Oh, no, I like it like this.” Julie lifted the Diet Pepsi and took a cautious sip. She felt conspicuous enough as it was. Everyone else drank out of a can, so she would, too.
Clint shook his head. “He means ice for your ankle, not for your drink.” He got two towels from the bathroom, folded one to put beneath her leg to keep the bedding dry, and filled the other with ice cubes. With ultimate care, he put it around her swollen ankle. It wasn’t very comfortable, but Julie kept her winces and her gasps to herself.
Clint moved to the first aid kit and returned with three small pills. “Here, take these.”
“What are they?”
“Two tablets for pain, and an over-the-counter sleeping pill.”
Julie hesitated, unsure if she really wanted to sleep. As tired as she felt, she was still wired and anxious and…afraid. Sleeping meant nightmares, and she’d had enough of them during her ordeal.
Clint enfolded her hand in his own. “You need sleep, Julie Rose.”
He had that implacable look again, and she’d managed to draw more attention from Red and Mojo. She tossed the pills down with a drink of her Pepsi.
Satisfied, Clint put the tray in her lap and went for his own food, settling himself on the opposite bed. The sandwich looked delicious, and Julie dug in, hoping to ignore her own misgivings about the coming night. She tuned out everything other than appeasing her hunger.
She had just finished her last bite of cake when she realized that while the television still played, all three men were watching her instead of it.
Her face warmed as she dabbed her mouth with a napkin and lifted her brows. This was getting ridiculous. “Is something wrong?”
Red shook his head. “You must have an incredible metabolism.”
She saw that Clint was still eating, but she’d already cleared her plate. Her face burned even more. “I always eat more when I’m nervous.” And for some reason, though she trusted the men, she got more nervous by the second.
Clint said, “You must live a secure life free of worry, then.”
Her temper frayed. She felt so frazzled, she needed a reason to release the tension. Clint made a great big solid target. “Is that another crack about me being skinny?”
He looked surprised at her waspish tone. A reluctant grin seemed to catch him unawares. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”
Well! He’d actually admitted it! Now what?
Forestalling her response to that, Mojo got up with an elaborate stretch and turned off the television. “I’m gone.”
Red groaned. “Same here. I’m dead on my feet.”
Clint popped his last bite in his mouth. “Give me a second to shower.” He topped off the garbage with his paper plates, picked up his duffel bag, and strolled into the adjoining room without a word to Julie.
Her heart sank, and the fear she’d been trying to ignore blossomed.
Red and Mojo moved around her, taking her tray, locking the deadbolt on the door. Mojo checked the ice in the towel, replaced it, then bid her good night with a mere nod of his head.
Red paused in the doorway. “You need anything else?”
She needed company.
But she couldn’t admit that to him. She’d look weak and silly, and besides, the sun would be up in a few hours, and she had to let them get some sleep. She shook her head. “Thank you, no.”
He smiled. “All right. G’night, then.” He flipped off a wall switch, leaving the room dark except for the lamp beside the bed. The shadows seemed to expand and grow, squeezing in around Julie.
The door closed behind Red, and she was alone.
Fighting off an absurd sense of hysteria, she looked around for a distraction—but found none. The silence struck her like a roar; the darkness spread.
Well, she scolded herself, while curling her hands in the sheets, what did you expect, Julie Rose? That they’d all sleep in here with you?
Now, that’d be a scandal that’d send Uncle Drew through the roof. Julie Rose, sleeping with three men. She could just imagine the conniption he’d have.
When she realized her own thoughts, she frowned in disgust because Clint now had her calling herself by both names. Way to go, Julie. You’re definitely losing it.
Forcing herself to move, she leaned up in bed and removed the painful ice pack. There was still some swelling around her ankle, but she’d manage. Evidently, she had no choice. She couldn’t start believing in boogeymen now, just because she’d had a bad experience.
She was a grown woman, not a child, and she would not be more of a burden on these wonderful men than necessary.
As drained as she felt, they had to be exhausted, too. They’d probably been called as soon as Robert knew she was missing. Petie had told her the ransom note was sent to Robert immediately.
&n
bsp; Her head throbbed with unanswered questions and her own sense of desolation, so Julie knew she wouldn’t sleep. She slid her legs off the side of the bed, then hopped—with some pain—to the dresser. She found the lotion and the toothbrush and toothpaste Red had purchased for her, resting among a colorful sundress, flip-flop sandals, and more panties. It took only a few minutes to brush her teeth and smooth her skin with the lotion.
And still she was antsy.
Despite the pill Clint had given her, she resigned herself to a sleepless night. Leaving the bathroom light on to chase away some of the demons, she crawled back into the bed and propped herself up against the headboard with the sheet pulled to her chin. She found the television remote and turned the set on, keeping the volume off so she wouldn’t disturb the others. Without cable, it was difficult to find a channel, but she finally located an old black-and-white western.
It beat staring at the walls, and it beat her own turbulent thoughts.
Clint cracked the door open just to check on her and saw her huddled in a tense ball on the bed. Her hands gripped the remote so tightly, he wondered that it hadn’t cracked. The television was on, but she stared beyond it, her eyes big and dark and haunted, her soft mouth pinched tight.
Well, hell.
He’d taken his shower in record time and shaved so fast he had three nicks for his trouble. He’d worried about her and, strangely enough, hadn’t wanted to leave her alone with Red and Mojo. Not that he didn’t trust them, but if Julie Rose got upset and needed to be held, he wanted to be the one to hold her.
Not any other man. Not even his best friends.
“Hey.” He spoke in a soft whisper so he wouldn’t startle her.
She jerked, looking up at him in shock. She swallowed convulsively. “I thought…I thought you went to bed.” Her voice was a high whisper, filled with a barely suppressed panic that she couldn’t hide. Not from him.
Her eyes, watchful and wary, tracked Clint as he sauntered into the room and closed the door behind him. This worrying crap was for the birds. He hated it. And if he didn’t want to worry, then there was only one thing to do.
He stopped beside the bed, leaned down, and pried the remote from her stiff fingers. He switched off the television, then went to the bathroom and turned out the light.
“What are you doing?” The words were shrill in her uncertainty.
Clint hadn’t bothered with a shirt, donning only clean shorts and jeans before coming to her. Now he pushed the jeans down and off and tossed them to the other bed.
Julie Rose stared so hard, he felt burned—but he ignored her attention the same way he’d ignored so many other things. He pulled back the sheets, slid into the bed, and patted her hip. “Move over.”
Breathless, she scrambled quickly out of his way. “Clint?”
“Shh. Let’s get some sleep, babe, okay?” He flipped off the bedside lamp, and the room was thrown mostly into darkness. Where the curtains didn’t quite meet over the window, a single beam of moonlight intruded, not quite touching the bed. Clint could see Julie Rose’s eyes shining in the darkness, and he could feel her nervousness feathering against him like the wings of a trapped butterfly.
“You’re…you’re sleeping with me?”
The hopefulness in her voice contradicted the appalled expression he was sure she wore.
“I’m sleeping with you.”
He stretched out in the bed and tugged her into the cradle of his body, her bottom to his lap, her back to his chest. Deliberately, he had one arm under her head, the other resting across her waist, enfolding her, protecting her.
She lay rigid, her breath coming too fast. It felt like hugging a skinny pole. “Relax, Julie Rose.”
A shiver ran through her, but not from the air-conditioning. This room was moderately warm, especially compared to the room the other men slept in. Her fingers fretted the blanket, and her feet kept shifting.
Finally, she whispered, “You knew I didn’t want to be alone, didn’t you?”
“I knew.”
She squirmed a bit more, and Clint had to bite back a groan as her soft rump pushed against his groin. He flattened his hand on her belly to still her.
“What will the others say?”
“Red and Mojo?”
The top of her head bumped his chin when she nodded.
“They know me.”
She twittered a nervous laugh. “Meaning, they know you’re honorable?”
Right. Honor was a sketchy thing, meaning different things to different people—or so he’d learned. “They know I’d never take advantage of you.”
They’d also know the torture of sleeping with a sexy woman whom he couldn’t touch. They’d give him hell about it later, ribbing him, but they wouldn’t say anything in front of Julie Rose.
Minutes stretched by, and Clint hoped she was falling asleep. He knew she wasn’t when she touched his hand that rested on her stomach. “You saw me.”
She’d said that in the bathroom, too, so apparently it preyed on her mind. He intuitively knew what she meant, but asked anyway. “When?”
“Back at the cabin, when my gown was torn.” He could hear her breathing. “You saw my breast.”
Her delicate fingers were busy tracing his, from his knuckles to his fingertips and back again. Though he doubted she realized it, the erotic imagery was so vivid it made him nuts. He’d love to feel her soft fingers on his cock, tracing it the same way.
Shit.
Clint caught her hand and pinned it to her stomach beneath his. He could almost feel her mind working. “Yeah, I saw you.”
“What did you think? When you saw me, I mean.”
She asked the strangest questions. “A lot of things.”
“Like what?”
He sighed. “Julie Rose.”
“What?”
Knowing she wouldn’t give up, Clint said, “I thought about killing all four of them. I thought about what I was going to do when I found the guy who’d hired them to take you.” He gave her a squeeze. “Mostly I thought about getting you safe.”
“Oh.” A load of disappointment filled that one single word.
“And I thought that you were far too pretty and petite to be mauled by those animals.”
She held silent for a few moments, then teasing, she whispered, “You thought about throwing up, too.”
“Brat.” Her silent laughter could be felt, and some of her tension eased. “No. I don’t think about that. It just happens.”
“Did you think I looked pitiful? Or pathetic?” She made that sound like the worst thing imaginable.
“Pathetic?” He grunted. “You’d just spit on Petie as if you weren’t tied and helpless,” he reminded her. “I thought you looked very brave.” Foolishly so. He’d moved to put himself in front of her before Petie could retaliate, which Clint had known he would. “I ignored your nakedness, Julie Rose, because it wasn’t important. Getting you safe was.”
She wiggled again, but quickly stilled. Her breath caught and held. She trembled.
It was a stupid question, but still he asked it. “What’s the matter now?”
Her voice dropped with shyness, with something more. She spoke so low he could barely hear her. “You’re…well, you have a…”
Hard-on. Didn’t he know it. “Yeah, but I’m ignoring that, too.”
She made a choking sound and teased, “Because it’s unimportant?”
“Because it doesn’t mean anything. I’d have to be dead to not have a boner right now, but I’d have to be a major bastard to want to do anything about it. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”
He thought he might have heard her snicker, but wasn’t sure.
“No, I’m not afraid.”
“Can you sleep, then?”
“Not yet.”
Clint started to groan, but caught the sound in time.
“You feel awfully big.”
Hell. Normally he enjoyed it when women noticed his size. But not now. He damn sure wou
ldn’t discuss it with Julie Rose. “Listen…”
“Do you rescue people for a living?”
A change of topic. He didn’t know if he should be relieved or annoyed. “Used to. These days I’m mostly a retrieval agent.”
“What does that mean?”
Clint carefully masked all emotion. “A repo man. People stop paying on property, I take it back for businesses.”
“Oh. Is it dangerous?”
Instead of disdain in her voice, he heard fascination.
“Sometimes. Depends on how expensive the item is, and how determined someone is to keep it, even if he hasn’t paid for it.”
“What kind of things do you repossess?”
“Anything. Everything. Most recently we took back a two hundred thousand–dollar directional drill. It’s a big, awkward piece of machinery, so even after locating it, getting it back wasn’t easy.”
“Did you have to beat anyone up?”
His mouth quirked at the way she asked that, as if she’d enjoy a gory fight story. “No. Not that time.”
“Oh.”
He should have had this damn conversation sitting up, with the lights on. But he’d honestly thought she would sleep. She had to be exhausted, and she’d taken the pill. It wasn’t strong, but she was so slightly built, it should have had some effect on her.
“What do your parents think of your work?”
“I don’t have parents.”
She twisted her head back to look at him.
“Well, for heaven’s sake, everyone has parents.”
Clint shrugged. “Not me. Not anymore. My mother left when I was a kid, and Dad died from lung cancer when I was almost eighteen.”
“I’m sorry.” She resettled herself. “My mother passed away when I was young. It was just me and my father.”
Clint gave her a squeeze of sympathy. No little girl should be without her mother.
He could almost hear her chewing over her thoughts before she asked, “Were you close with your father?”
Thinking back, Clint said, “He worked a lot, but I don’t have any complaints. He kept me fed and dressed, and we had a decent house.”
“I bet he’d be proud of you now.”
