“I told you to turn him on, not piss him the fuck off,” he growled above her, barely opening his mouth to get the words out.
“Well, I got him in here, didn’t I?” she sputtered in return, a little pissed off herself. She squirmed into a sitting position, making sure the towel was still securely in place. She made the mistake of glancing down at Mano’s sprawled form, a sick gasp escaping when she saw the cause of his death. Right before her shocked gaze, Clint calmly reached down, yanked the knife out of his back, and wiped the blade clean on a section of Mano’s dirty shirt.
Sour bile gurgled in her throat, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. She’d never seen anyone killed before. She gagged knowing she was going to be sick and struggled off the vanity, turning to face the sink. She gagged again. She was going to humiliate herself in front of a stranger!
“For fuck’s sake, don’t be sick!” Clint snapped in irritation and bent to grab Mano by a lifeless arm. His other hand curled around the dead man’s belt; he heaved the body into the tub, and then closed the shower curtain.
Sarah was splashing cold water on her face by the time he turned back, their eyes meeting. He could at least give her some credit for not giving in and throwing up, but nothing on his stony face showed he cared one way or the other.
“How long before someone comes looking for him?”
She shook her head violently, her fingers clutching the sink’s edge in a death grip for control. “Don’t know.” She cupped her hands beneath the faucet again, this time taking a drink from her palms.
“Where’s your room?”
Her eyes followed him as he moved past her to the bathroom door. He wasn’t going to be happy when he discovered it was the furthest point from the bathroom. “End of the hall.” As Sarah expected, his lips turned down when he opened the door.
Without looking back, he motioned her to join him. “When I open the door, I want you to make a run for your room. And for God’s sake, try not to sound like a fucking elephant stomping down the hallway.”
She stiffened, but it was from the close proximity of his body and not his insulting words. Another time and she would have blasted him with a comeback. Now it was a chore just to think straight. But the more she straightened away from him, the more he inched closer. Touching her, as if testing her.
Invading her comfort zone.
She was just about to give him a piece of her mind when he suddenly whispered against her ear. “Now!” He opened the door and she was shoved into the hallway. Sarah resisted the urge to look back, dashing down the hall to her room as he’d commanded.
Opening the door, she turned back to look at him, but he’d disappeared back in the bathroom. When he returned, he yanked the door open and dashed down the hallway on surprisingly silent feet, carrying a duffel bag Sarah hadn’t seen before. She managed to move out of the way just before he stepped through the threshold.
He quickly shut and locked the door before tossing the duffel bag on the bed. Not wasting any time he moved to the windows, inspecting the bars. She watched him quietly, crossing her arms over her breasts.
“Fuck!” he snorted, giving the bars an experimental jerk. Sarah couldn’t help but notice the muscles in his bare arms flexing powerfully.
“What did you expect? I’m not exactly a guest here,” she reminded him saucily. Even without the bars, she would have never made an attempt to escape anyway—they were two stories up.
Clint tossed her a go-to-hell scowl. It was apparent by his expression nothing was going right. “Get dressed,” he growled, moving to the other windows and finding the bars just as solid as the first one.
Sarah’s brows arched, “In what? Mano took the only clothes I had, and you left the ones they provided for me back in the bathroom.”
He hissed the foulest word in the book and one she was quickly learning was his favorite, as he strode back to the bed. “I’m half tempted to take you the way you are,” he threatened.
Her eyes widened. “You could try,” she replied, not the least bit daunted by his ugly, hateful expression. She watched with silent interest as he unzipped his duffel bag with a single, savage movement, before rummaging through it, muttering a string of curses beneath his breath the whole time. She smiled maliciously, crossing her arms.
Her smile disappeared when he tossed her some clothes in the same ugly green and black he was wearing. He might be a lot taller and bigger but she had some serious doubts she’d be able to squeeze her D cup breasts into any of his T-shirts. She held the garments up for inspection, wondering if she’d be able to get the pants up over her hips, too. They were short, and taking in the narrow cut of them, she doubted they belonged to him. Her gaze shot his way, giving him the once-over before realizing what she was doing.
“Put them on,” he demanded, noticing her hesitation. “While I think of a way to get us the fuck out of here. We have to move fast.”
“What about the way you got in?”
He shook his head without looking at her. “Too risky.”
Thankful he seemed preoccupied; Sarah turned her back and began struggling into the army fatigues. She soon found out her hips weren’t the problem, she couldn’t zip them up. Her earlier thoughts had been accurate—there was no way these were his.
Hearing a masculine chuckle behind her, she shot him a furious scowl over her shoulder while fighting with the zipper. She whipped the towel off angrily, sending it flying half way across the room before grabbing up the black T-shirt. She heard him suck in a sharp breath but ignored it, hoping he’d stubbed his toe on something.
Chapter Three
Clint’s eyes feasted on the delicate bones and graceful lines of Sarah’s smooth back. The fatigues he’d borrowed from a smaller friend were sinfully tight on her, outlining the rounded moons of her shapely ass and causing him to salivate. It had been a damn long time since he’d seen anything that sexy in army fatigues. He didn’t mean to stare, but he was a man after all, and he knew he was in fucking trouble. Big tits and a nice, tight ass were his weakness.
She quickly slipped the T-shirt over her head before turning to the mirror over the dresser and inspecting her appearance. It wasn’t bad, covered everything it needed to, yet Clint sensed her displeasure. The wet bra she was wearing soaked through immediately, emphasizing the shape and fullness of her tits and the fact her nipples were hard as berries. For a crazy moment, he visualized rolling them on his tongue while he was fucking the sass right out of her.
Her eyes flew to him. Did she honestly think he wouldn’t notice? Any red-blooded male with a healthy appetite for the opposite sex would look. His lips twitched, seeing the anger simmering in her eyes. He grinned. She was pissed.
“Go ahead, damn you, look until your eyes fall out, just as long as you get me out of here and home.”
“As long as we know where our priorities are,” Clint said, purposely running his eyes down the length of her. She was full of piss and vinegar, but damn if she didn’t have the body of a goddess! In spite of the circumstances, he felt a heat uncurling deep inside his gut, a clear indication the little witch in front of him was turning him on.
It didn’t surprise him. But the circumstances were hardly normal and he knew he had to stay focused. He could think about taming her later, when they had more time. He liked a challenge and Sarah seemed to like tossing them out, haphazardly.
“What about shoes?” Sarah frowned, slapping her hands on her hips. The action only stretched the material of her shirt tighter across her tits. Clint expected the shirt was going to give and split down the middle at any second.
A sight he'd like to see.
His eyes fell, taking in the scarlet tipped toes peeking out from under the hem of her pants, glad he’d had the foresight to grab her sneakers before leaving the bathroom. They weren’t designed for hiking through the jungle, but they were better than nothing. Pulling them out of the side pocket of his duffel bag, he dropped them at her feet. “Hurry up and put them on.”
“Good, then we’ll get along great,” he retorted.
“I doubt it. And I’m warning you right now, I’m too independent to take orders from an overbearing man and get along with him too. You seem the type that enjoys giving orders and expecting them to be carried out without question. But I can take care of myself.”
Clint snorted. “Yeah, you’ve done a good job of it so far.”
Sarah scowled. “Everyone needs a little help now and again. It doesn’t mean I have to like it.” She sat on the edge of the bed to slip on her sneakers. “Just how do you know Susan?” she asked as she was tying them. “I’ve known her since high school, and she’s never mentioned knowing anyone like you. Of course, I seriously doubt we travel in the same circles.”
“We don’t have time for conversation,” Clint said, ignoring her snub. He checked his watch for the time. Couldn’t she move any faster? His eyes went back to her, noticing she moved like she had all the time in the world. Well, he bet that changed once the shooting started and they were on the run.
“What now?” she asked, straightening. She gathered her hair, twisting it in a bun at the nape of her neck before tucking the loose ends into it. He tried not to visualize that hair wrapped around his hand. “Do we wait for the cover of darkness?”
It sounded like a line from a suspense movie. He snorted. “Not hardly, considering they’ll be coming for you soon. We’re getting the hell out of here now.” He knew it was going to be risky making an escape before nightfall, but they couldn’t afford to wait.
Sarah’s eyes moved about the room, touching on each of the windows. “Just how do you plan to get us out of here? Squeeze through the bars?”
His gaze fell briefly to her full tits. “Cute,” he said sarcastically. “We’re going to move to the next room and pray the fucking windows don’t have bars on them.” He pivoted to the bed and zipped up his duffel bag.
“But, we’re two stories up,” Sarah reminded him with worry in her tone.
Clint barely spared her a glance. “That’s right, let’s go.” He wasn’t about to start babying her this early in the game. He’d seen her spunk and knew she had enough grit to overcome most obstacles.
Moving to the door, he opened it a crack and peered out, motioning her to join him. She scooted in front of him and, when he opened it all the way, dashed across the hall to the next room. But before she could open the door, Clint grabbed her by the collar, forcing her against the wall.
“Wait a minute, damn it!” he whispered harshly, glaring down at her. Her careless actions only proved his earlier observations about her commonsense, or lack of. “That’s a damn good way to get your head shot off!”
Sarah squirmed around with her mouth open, but he hushed her before she managed to get a word out. Their eyes clashed briefly, before he cautiously opened the door. Once he was satisfied there was no one in the room, he jerked her in behind him, ignoring her huff of outrage. He quickly made his way to the window, yanked back the heavy curtain, and muttered a prayer of thanks. With no time to waste, he opened the window, sticking his head out to take in their surroundings.
The sun was rapidly disappearing behind a mountain as twilight settled in. Clint guessed they had about half an hour before it would be completely dark, and even less before someone came looking for her. They were running out of time. He unzipped his bag and pulled out a long coil of rope. At the end of it was a metal device, shaped like talons, which he positioned carefully just beneath the lip of the window ledge. He tested it to make sure it was secure before turning back to her.
It was obvious by her expression she’d figured out what was going on. And just for a moment, he saw a glimmer of fear in her eyes. She took a step back, shaking her head no before he uttered a word. “You want to get out of here?” he jeered, his words cold and exact. He’d give her ten seconds to make up her mind before he tossed her out the window.
“I can’t do it,” she said, her tone bordering on panic. “We’ll be sitting ducks.”
“Sure you can,” he insisted, trying to remain calm.
She continued to shake her head, not convinced. “I’m…I’m afraid of heights. And besides, I failed shimmying down ropes in gym.”
He swore, losing patience, knowing the key was taking the choice out of her hands and seizing control. Before Sarah got too far out of reach, he made a grab for her, hauling her easily toward the window against her will. At least she had the common sense not to scream.
“I’ll go first and talk you through it.” He forced her onto the wide ledge. There was no mistaking the reluctance in her tense body, and Clint knew they were going to lose valuable time because of it. He followed her gaze when she glanced down.
Directly beneath their window was nothing but a thick, green carpet of grass. Nothing to break a fall. The only thing going for them was there wasn’t a window beneath them, nothing but a long stretch of solid, brick wall.
“Once we reach the ground, if we’re still alive, do we head for that clump of trees off in the distance?”
They were bordering the edge of the estate. From there, it was nothing but dense jungle. Sarah began chewing on her bottom lip, leaning against his hand, which was pushing her. It didn’t take Clint long to lose patience. “You might not care what happens to you, but frankly, I don’t relish the idea of getting my,” He finished his crude comment in a low, gritty voice against her ear, "fucking balls cut off."
The graphic description of what they’d most likely lop off his body seemed to snap Sarah out of her frightened stupor. She was suddenly bristling like an angry cat with its back up and jerked around to face him with anger alive in her eyes. “I have a hard time believing you and Susan are friends. She’s too gentle and mothering to be associated with someone like you.”
Clint released a gruff sound at Sarah’s comment. Susan and he were cousins, but right now, he didn’t feel like going into any explanations. “Whatever it takes to get the fucking job done, angel. Do you want to get out of here bad enough to risk your neck, or do you want to hang around and see what Rodriguez has in store for you?” To get his meaning across, his eyes moved over her insultingly, stripping her, leaving little doubt what he thought Rodriguez had in store for her.
“I’ll be right on top of you!” she said without thinking, pressing her mouth when Clint’s mouth twitched with humor she obviously didn’t appreciate.
He sat on the sill next to her, taking up the slack of the rope. “Just remember I’ll be beneath you if you run into any trouble.”
He swung over the side, fully expecting her to follow him. When she didn’t, he glanced up to see Sarah peering over the side, her expression one of worry. Not saying a word, Clint just focused his eyes on her, narrowing them in warning. Imitating his actions, she took the rope in her hands and slowly swung her body over the ledge, making sure her foot was secure on the first knot before releasing the ledge.
“If I fall, maybe I’ll be lucky enough to land on him,” he heard her grumble.
Clint started down, and almost immediately felt Sarah’s sneakers scrape across his knuckles instead of the strategically placed knots. “Damn it! Watch what you’re doing!” He was careful to keep his voice low.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it!” she whispered back, but he caught the smile she flashed him. “It serves you right for making me shimmy down a rope in the first place.”
“I’ll bet,” Clint muttered. About the fourth time she scraped his knuckles, he let go of the rope and jumped the rest of the way to the ground.
He landed on his feet, and Sarah landed on top of him. A grunt left him on impact, and a loud woof of air escaped his lungs as her body bore him to the ground. She was no lightweight, but maybe that was because she had an abundance of curves. Clint hit the ground with a bone-jarring force. The thick, rich carpet of grass wasn’t a
s cushiony as it had appeared from the two-story window.
“Thank you for stopping my fall,” the little witch had the nerve to say. There was no denying the humor in her tone.
Eyes closed, Clint remained silent. Under normal circumstances he might have found her remark funny. But he was the one who’d landed hard on the ground and had the wind knocked out of him. He couldn’t spare the breath to make a nasty comment. She wouldn’t like the words he’d choose anyway.
“Are you dead?” She questioned in a whisper that was very close to his mouth. “No, I can’t be that lucky!”
Shit! It was surprising how crushing the weight of a woman could be when she was lying on top of you and you didn’t have a single drop of air left in your body. He parted his legs, unconsciously looking for a more comfortable position. The movement only made him aware of the intimacy of their aligned bodies, but he was hardly in the mood to appreciate that his dick was sung against her pussy.
Sarah’s indignant huff sounded as loud as a crack of thunder. With a huff of disgust, she put her hands against his chest and gave herself a push up.
A harsh growl rumbled through Clint’s heaving chest as he glared up at her. “What in the hell are you trying to do…kill me? Why the fuck did you let go of the rope in the first place?”
“When you let go, I thought it was all right to do the same,” she admitted, brushing off the back of her pants as though there was dirt on them. She avoided looking him in the eye. “Why did you let go?”
“To get the fuck from you and those damn sneakers,” he shot back, getting to his feet and glancing down at his scraped knuckles. His gaze returned to her. It satisfied him to see her take an unwilling step back. Good, she should be afraid of him. He was mad enough to spit.
No Escape Page 3
