Читать книгу Just A Hint - Clint - Lori Foster - Страница 6

“Why would he take her?”

Those rough, rumbled words carried a dose of suspicion—and accusation. Equal parts nervous and concerned, Robert Burns swallowed hard. He was a man of influence, damn it, a man of wealth and standing with his own source of power.

This man-for-hire, a grunt that now worked for him, would not intimidate him.

It didn’t matter that Clint Evans wore an aura of danger as thick and suffocating as an electrical storm, or that his eyes were so…Jesus, his eyes were so sharp they seemed to cut right through Robert.

Forcing himself to lounge back in his chair, Robert feigned an insouciance that eluded him.

Evans’s reputation hadn’t been exaggerated. This man was more than capable of killing. Robert could see that just by looking at him, and it suited his purposes even as it set his nerves jangling.

“I can’t think of anyone else it could be.” That much was true, because as far as Robert knew, Julie had no enemies.

But he did, and now he’d been reduced to a man he didn’t recognize, a man he couldn’t respect. That thought made him ill, but it was still possible that he’d get Julie back unharmed and be rid of some trouble at the same time.

Robert lowered his head in what he hoped looked like hesitation, when in fact he teemed with frustration. The ransom note, now somewhat crumpled and smudged, rested on his desktop as an ugly, grim reminder of what his life had become. He detested himself for what he planned to do, but damn it, he had no alternative.

“I hate to admit it,” Robert murmured low, “but Julie’s something of a…tease.” He sighed and raised his face. “Her father did his best with her, but she’d do things, see…certain men, just to enrage him, just to prove he had no real authority over her. After his death, well, she seems to enjoy dishing the same provocation onto Drew.”

“Drew?”

“Drew Johnson, her uncle, the executor of her trust fund and the man now forced to monitor her behavior.” When Clint said nothing, Robert felt compelled to explain further. “Drew and her father were close, as family and as business partners. He loves Julie, never doubt that. But she’s always done just as she pleased regardless of how it damaged the family name.” He shrugged. “Sometimes it pleased her to flirt with danger.”

“You’re saying she got snatched because she flirted with the wrong man?”

“It’s possible. She’s done it before. Once she even had a liaison with a stable hand.”

A funny expression, almost like satisfaction, passed over Clint’s hard face. “Do tell.”

Robert shook his head. “It was a huge scandal, and Julie wouldn’t even bother to deny it to anyone, not even the press. She almost seemed to enjoy the untoward attention.”

Amusement brought a crooked smile to one side of Clint’s unhandsome face.

Robert scowled at the awful ransom note. “It’s possible she’s been up to her old tricks, and now she’s gotten herself into trouble. That’s all I can come up with.”

“You think she flirted with Asa Ragon?”

Swallowing down his uneasiness, Robert began his fabrication of the facts. “After the note, there was…one phone call.”

A new alertness entered Clint’s already intimidating expression. “What was said?”

Robert wanted to back up a step. He wanted to stop now, to call it quits. But he couldn’t. “Only that I should wait to hear from the kidnapper. He said he’d call and give me a time and place to take the money.”

“That was in the note. Why make a call if there wasn’t anything new to add?”

“He wanted to reiterate that if I involved the cops, or anyone else, they’d kill her.” Robert gulped, and tried to appear convincing. “The voice…It sounded like Asa.”

“You’ve met him?”

“Yes, and once you do,” Robert said, finally able to give the unadulterated truth, “you don’t forget him. You definitely don’t forget his voice. It’s rough, sort of gravelly. Maybe even damaged.”

“I’m curious.” Clint crossed his arms over his chest and sized Robert up with a look. “What kind of relationship does an up-and-coming social type like you have with a thug?”

“We’re certainly not friends!” His confidence ruffled, Robert made a show of straightening his tie, tugging on his cuffs. “I’m a well-respected financial advisor. One of the corporations I work for wanted to buy waterfront property from Asa. He was…was there during the discussion.”

“What was your recommendation on it?”

“That area is rife with development, but the city had no plans to extend public water and roadways onto that property. It would have cost more to develop it than it was worth, so naturally I advised against it.” A chill skated down Robert’s spine. At the time, he hadn’t realized the level of Asa’s influence. When he’d talked the corporation out of the property, convincing them to buy a property he represented instead, he’d talked himself into more trouble than he could handle.

“I’ll bet Asa wasn’t too thrilled with your interference.”

“He’s a lowlife scum of no importance to me.” Except that Asa had been enraged, and he’d demanded that Robert reimburse him for the money he’d lost on the deal—or else.

“You think Asa took your fiancée to get even with you?”

“Of course not.” Frazzled, Robert rearranged a gold pen on his desk just to hide his loss of composure. He couldn’t let Evans know of his own involvement or everything would crumble around him. That meant there had to be another reason for Asa to take Julie, one of her own making.

“Julie happened to be with me during that meeting. We were leaving straight from there to a play. I hate to say this, but you must have facts.” The lies burned like acid in his throat, but Robert told them anyway. “She…well, for lack of a better word, she seemed impressed with Asa.”

Clint turned his back on Robert. He picked up a small photo of Julie from the bookshelf. “You think she got involved with him?”

“I don’t know.” Jesus, Robert just wanted this over with. He didn’t want to talk it to death. “But I do know that Asa has a lot of connections. If he didn’t take her, he knows who did.” Robert stared at Clint’s back, thankful that those piercing eyes weren’t on him. “It was definitely him on the phone.”

With careful precision, Clint replaced the photo. “You say she’s a reckless flirt, that she got herself in this predicament by playing dangerous games.” He didn’t look away from Julie’s image as he spoke, and there was a raw edge to his tone. “Yet you still planned to marry her.”

Despite the pep talk he’d just given himself, Robert shivered. His smile felt sickly, and the sound of his heartbeat drummed in his ears.

“Understand, Evans, I love Julie, and love is often blind. Besides, I don’t really blame her for how she is. Her father could be overbearing in his efforts to protect her. He always tried to control Julie by controlling her money, gifting it out in small doses as he saw fit.”

And in the process, he’d made sure that Robert couldn’t skim from the funds. The bastard.

Clint turned his head to stare at Robert. “I take it she didn’t like that.”

“Julie hated it, and sometimes she hated him. I see her behavior as rebellion.” Robert raised his gaze cautiously to lock with Clint’s. “After we’re married, she’ll settle down.”

Evans said nothing to that. The silence dragged on until Robert felt stretched taut, until his skin prickled and his nerves twitched. Damn it, he would not cower. This was too important.

He stood and rounded the desk. “When you find her—” And he had no doubts Evans would do just that, one way or another. He cleared his throat and forced the words out. “You should be aware that Asa is very dangerous. Don’t underestimate him, don’t go after him unarmed.”

That eerie green gaze, unblinking and ice cold, pinned Robert. “You want me to shoot him?”

Instinct told Robert to deny it, but he couldn’t. “Despite her brazenness, Julie doesn’t deserve to be ransomed by a lawless ruffian. She doesn’t deserve to be frightened, mauled, and…”

Evans’s eyes narrowed.

Robert shook, his voice, his hands, even his heart. He tried to hide his revulsion, to swallow his awful guilt. “God only knows what else they’ve done to her.” A shudder ran through his body, brought on by worry, by hope and fear.

Important, this was so goddamned important.

“I want him out of her life.” I want him out of my life.

“You want him dead?”

Oh, God. “If she’s been touched,” Robert stressed, knowing she surely had been and hating his part in it, “if she’s been hurt at all, yes, I want him dead.”

The words fell like a sledgehammer between the two men. Evans didn’t blink, didn’t change expressions at all, so Robert continued. “Either way, Julie definitely doesn’t deserve the bad publicity that’ll result if you bring a kidnapper in to the police. She’s had enough of that already.”

“By being a flirt?”

“Yes. The only way to protect her now is to make sure this is never known. That’s why I hired you specifically, rather than someone…better known.”

A cynical half smile touched Clint’s hard mouth. “Rather than someone more legitimate, you mean.”

Robert tightened his jaw. Was the bastard taunting him? If society ever found out that he’d hired a borderline criminal to save his fiancée, he’d never live it down.

Drew would certainly be outraged.

He’d given Robert the funds to ransom Julie, never suspecting that Robert would try a different tact to get her back. If Drew knew, he’d cut Robert out—financially and socially. He’d be ruined.

But Robert wouldn’t change his mind now. He honestly didn’t want Julie harmed, but he had no choices left.

“Julie’s an heiress. I can pay the money if it comes to that.” Or rather, he’d pay half. The other half would hopefully go toward buying him some time. But Evans didn’t need to know that. “I was afraid if I paid the ransom, they’d kill her.”

Evans nodded his agreement to that.

“And I was afraid someone else would feel honor bound to go by the book, to drag in a bunch of animals for prosecution.”

“Probably.”

“Julie’s reputation has already suffered several blows. I’m afraid she couldn’t weather another scandal.”

Lifting one eyebrow, Evans said, “Sounds to me like you’re afraid of a lot of things.”

Robert’s male pride quailed under the verbal blow. “I’m afraid for Julie.”

Evans reached for the photo again. “Uh huh. It’s touching, all this love and devotion you have for a woman who sounds like a royal pain in the ass.” He gave a careless shrug. “So I’m to be judge, jury, and executioner for this Asa Ragon, assuming he’s the only guy involved. I suppose there could be more.”

“Would more be a problem?”

“No.”

Did the bastard have to sound so cocksure of himself? Robert locked his knees. “Good.” He hoped he looked more enthusiastic than he felt.

“I’ll be her husband. I want to protect her, even if I have to protect her from herself.”

Turning the framed photo over, Evans pried off the backing, cracking the expensive hand-carved frame in the process. With a gentleness that belied the iron strength in his massive hands, he laid the broken pieces aside.

Alarmed, Robert took a step closer. “What are you doing?”

Those steely eyes were impassive when they looked at Robert. “I’m keeping this.” Evans slid the photo into the back pocket of his disreputable jeans.

For a man who commanded such an exorbitant fee, Clint Evans didn’t dress very well. His black T-shirt had faded to a dull gray, his Levis had to be ten years old, and his black lace-up boots had scuffed toes.

In fact, if it weren’t for the large, lethally honed body beneath those clothes and those dead eyes, Evans wouldn’t seem so imposing at all. He was an older man, probably nearing forty. His unkempt black hair had grayed at his temples and a timeworn weariness etched his unhandsome face.

But those eyes…

When Clint turned toward him, Robert shrank back, then shrank some more when he kept coming until Robert was forced to lean back awkwardly over his desk. Chest to chest, hands flat on the desktop and thick arms rippling with muscle, Clint Evans caged him in. He was bigger, harder, stronger, and Robert smelled his own fear.

This man would kill for money.

Robert wondered if he’d kill for pleasure, too.

That awful thought pinned him to the spot, making his lungs burn and his stomach clench.

Clint’s small smile held such a look of malice, Robert felt faint.

“Yeah, I’m capable of killing.” The hushed whisper of his words only made them more menacing.

“I…I see.” Robert hated him in that moment, and he hated himself. He’d be so glad when this was all over. “That’s…good.”

“I also know a liar when I see one.” Clint’s eyes narrowed more, pinpoints of green fire.

“Call it a sixth sense, intuition, but I always know when someone is bullshitting me.”

A warning? No. He couldn’t know, Robert tried to convince himself. But the tension built and Robert thought he’d made a horrible mistake, that Evans would kill him on the spot and no one would know who had done it, because no one knew he’d hired him. No one.

Sick defeat washed over him.

Then Evans leaned back, his smile crooked, smug. “That’s something you might want to remember, Bobby-boy.” He turned and walked toward the door, saying at last, “I’ve got everything I need. I’ll check your lead right now.”

“Now?” Just the thought of Clint Evans getting near Asa filled Robert with anxiety. If Asa found out that Robert had hired Clint, he’d be dead before nightfall. “You can’t mention my name, Evans. You can’t let him know I sent you there—”

Clint either ignored his panic, or just didn’t care. “You have my number, but only use it in an emergency.”

“Damn you, Evans.” Clint Evans’s business card listed a phone number, but no name, no address. Robert didn’t like it. Things were too out of control, too unstable. “Listen to me!”

“Sit tight and don’t do a damn thing until you hear from me.” Clint disappeared through the door, his gait relaxed, his attitude more so.

Robert slumped. His heart beat too fast and his knees felt like gelatin. Sweat dampened his brow.

Was Evans really that good? It’d be too perfect if both he and Julie survived this mess.

Robert hadn’t chosen Clint Evans lightly. In rapid order, he’d read the reports, and he knew about Evans’s major fuck-up two years ago. Only the most elite circles were privy to that information, but Robert had influential friends who were good at snooping. Evans walked a very fine line these days.

Since the awful fiasco, Evans hadn’t done much work-for-hire at all. He’d been too busy struggling to keep himself afloat and to pay his heavy legal bills. He’d sunk so low, he worked as a repo man, and by all accounts he was damn good at that job. Just as he used to snatch people back, he now reclaimed planes, yachts, and RVs, with little fanfare or fuss.

But the past was still there, still tainting him.

Clint Evans lived close enough, only a few hours away, so he was expedient. Given his tarnished reputation, he was capable of anything. And best of all, he was desperate. Those traits combined to make him the right man for this particular job.

Robert rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was doing the right thing, for himself and for Julie, he was sure of it. Second guessing himself now would be pointless.

If anyone could bring Julie back safe and sound, and at the same time get the better of Asa, Robert would put his money on Clint. Hell, he had put his money on him. But what Evans would get was a paltry amount in comparison to what Robert would gain—the love of his life, his freedom, a new start.

Dropping into his chair with an enormous sigh, Robert tried to believe his own reassurances.

But he kept seeing those eyes, and he knew stark fear.

The early evening June sun was high in the sky, broiling hot on such a cloudless day. Clint Evans slipped on mirrored sunglasses as he strode away from the enormous, ritzy house in an expensive Cincinnati suburb. He was very aware of that small photo in his back pocket, and very aware of the woman who needed him. He wanted to pull it out and look at her again, but he didn’t. Studying her further wouldn’t help. It’d just make him nuts, and his stomach was already unsettled.

Rage always cramped his guts, made him literally sick, and Robert Burns enraged him.

Clint drew a deep breath and considered what needed to be done in order to save Julie Rose. She wasn’t a beautiful woman. Hell, she wasn’t even all that pretty. But she had looked delicate and very proud.

Burns told him she was a schoolteacher. She fit the stereotype physically: mousy brown, medium-length hair, intelligent brown eyes. That serene, yet taunting half smile that meant she’d have the patience and the wit to deal well with kids—and men.

She was twenty-nine and looked it. Maybe she even looked a bit older.

According to Burns, Julie was a hellion and a sexual tease. Clint smiled. Yeah, it was that more than anything else that intrigued him. A mousy, intelligent schoolteacher—who liked to screw around. He shook his head, indulging in a private chuckle.

Even while distracted with thoughts of Julie Rose, Clint scanned the area. An inbred caution had kept him alive and kicking through a hell of a lot. He lived with a heightened awareness of his surroundings that few people ever experienced for a single moment, much less an eternity.

Appearing casual and relaxed, Clint rounded the block of the old, ostentatious homes. A green minivan, out of place in the upscale neighborhood of luxury cars, pulled alongside him and stopped. Clint opened the door and slid in. There was no one around to pay him any mind. He supposed rich folk didn’t sit on the front porch and wave at neighbors the way they did in his neighborhood.

“So?” Red Carter quirked a blond brow in curiosity, while gently accelerating the vehicle forward.

“I don’t trust him.”

Red nodded. “Me either.”

“No? Why not?” So it wouldn’t get bent, Clint pulled the photo out of his pocket and held it in his hand. He studied Julie Rose once more. Her big brown eyes, glinting with mischief, smiled back at him. Damn. “You haven’t even met him yet.”

“You don’t trust him, so I don’t trust him.” Then with a frown at the photo, “S’that her?”

“Yeah.” Clint held it up so Red could see.

“What a shame,” Red lamented. “She looks awful sweet and sassy.”

His tone squeezed around Clint’s lungs, pissing him off, making him edgier. “She’s not dead yet.”

“No, but probably wishing she was.”

Clint didn’t like that probability at all. Maybe his insight was influenced by his disdain of the wealthy. Who the hell knew? But whatever the reason, he didn’t believe a word of Robert Burns’s story, and that meant Julie Rose was in more trouble than first assumed. “I don’t think Asa Ragon has her.”

The ransom note had been of a typical sort. Disguised lettering in a hodgepodge style, simple and straightforward. They’d be in touch soon on where and when to deliver the money. A quarter of a million dollars in exchange for Julie Rose’s life. If the cops were called, she’d die. No signature.

The note was plain enough. Why would there have been a follow-up phone call? Especially when no additional info was given.

Luckily the ransom amount, twenty times over, was held in a trust for her. Robert Burns claimed he had the money if it was needed to keep Julie alive. But Clint agreed with him on at least that much.

Paying would more likely ensure her death, rather than prevent it. Clint intended to have her safe and sound long before they could realize that no money was forthcoming.

“I thought Asa was the only possibility.” As Red drove, the landscape changed. The houses gradually grew smaller in scale and closer together.

“There are always other possibilities. It’s just that when Robert mentioned Asa…I dunno. It didn’t feel right.” As a small-time crook with big-time ambitions, Asa was a suspect. The man had a record a mile long and was certainly capable of real cruelty. One of the first things Clint had done was run a check on Asa. He was a scumbag, with prior connections to theft, possession of illegal arms, drug trafficking, assault and battery, extortion, and organized gambling. The list was long but had nothing on the scale of kidnapping. Asa ran his slum-area neighborhood like a warlord, but he’d never served maximum time.

It just didn’t set right with Clint. He didn’t want to waste time making false assumptions that could end up fatal—to Julie Rose.

Red drove and stole peeking glances at Clint at the same time. “So if he doesn’t have her, who does?”

“Not sure yet. But I want to talk to this Asa character. Julie’s been missing for twelve hours now. If I’m wrong and he does have her, maybe he’ll give something away.”

Red nodded. “I’ve got his address in here somewhere.” One-handed, Red began riffling through the printouts he’d collected on Asa Ragon the moment they’d accepted the case.

Clint had every confidence in Red. They’d known each other for a lifetime, along with Mojo Dray, and between the three of them, there wasn’t much they couldn’t accomplish. Though they hadn’t worked together in this capacity recently, not since…

Clint shook his head. He wouldn’t go there, not now. It’d only distract him when the last thing he needed was distractions. He’d missed the fieldwork, truth be known, and he sensed that Red and Mojo felt the same.

They were all more than able to dominate in a physical confrontation, but Red usually worked as the inside man, able to dredge up information from seemingly nowhere. What he didn’t know he could always find out through an intricate web of associations in and out of the police force.

He was six years Clint’s junior, taller, leaner, and according to Daisy, his new, deliriously happy wife, better looking.

With blond hair and blue eyes, Red had a misleading nickname. He’d been dubbed Red years ago after a fistfight, because his fair skin had turned florid and stayed that way for hours. Red was a mean son-of-a-bitch, except when it came to women. Then he was a complete and total pushover.

When it came to Daisy, he was a lamb.

Clint and Mojo both considered it a blessing to have their friend happily and safely married to a very nice girl. It had been far too common for women to take advantage of Red, and more common still for Red not to mind in the least. Daisy kept all other women away from him.

Mojo was quiet, the supply guy with barbaric tendencies. He never said much, but when he did, Clint listened. And whenever Clint needed something, anything, Mojo got it. Though Mojo wasn’t married, he was involved in a long-term relationship, and Clint suspected marriage would be next on the list.

Clint provided leadership, organization, and muscle. Though at thirty-eight, he considered retiring that last accolade. He also considered himself too old and far too settled in his ways to ever inflict his life on a woman. He had good old-fashioned brief affairs when he craved them, and that suited him just fine.

Clint tipped his head, looking at the photo of Julie Rose. Judging by what he could see of the upper-body shot, she was a very slender woman, to the point of being skinny. The idea of her being abused made his stomach lurch.

But then, the idea of her marrying that ass, Robert Burns, didn’t sit much better.

“Got it.” Red interrupted Clint’s thoughts by fanning a single sheet of paper. “I knew I had it in there somewhere. Asa lives downtown, in a not-so-nice area. Judging by the map, we’re about half an hour away. His house should be easy enough to spot. It’s on a cul-de-sac and has a black door, so we can’t miss it. You wanna visit?”

“Don’t sound so eager, Red. I just want to check around, see if I think he actually has Julie before we go tearing the place down.”

“Meaning you want to walk in alone, huh?”

Clint settled back in his seat and laid the photo, facedown, on his thigh. He stared out the window at the passing scenery. “I’ll be careful.”

Red pulled the minivan into traffic and headed for the highway ramp. “Why would Burns lie about it? You said he’s sure Asa has her, right?”

Robert had said that and more. When Clint had loomed over him, it wasn’t just to intimidate the worm. He’d used the moment to place a special bug against the phone on Robert’s desk. The high-tech listening device was voice activated, so any conversation, either in the room or on the telephone, would be recorded and saved until Clint retrieved it by the simple means of a cell phone call that worked like the message retrieval on a regular answering machine. The device could hold up to ninety hours’ worth of chitchat, but he’d check it long before then.

“I have no idea why he’d lie—yet. But I’ll find out.”

“So you’re sure he is lying?”

Clint rubbed his tired eyes. He’d gotten the call from Robert early that morning, and he’d been running ever since. It was crucial that they act quickly, so there’d been no time to slow down, to eat, or to indulge in quiet introspection.

The usual rush of adrenaline and anticipation had bombarded Clint. But the moment he’d seen Julie Rose’s soft eyes and sly smile in that small photograph, other more confusing emotions had invaded. They were starting to make him edgy.

“By nature, Robert Burns is an insincere, cowardly creep. Is he lying about this? Hell, I’m not sure. But I don’t like him, and I don’t like this whole setup.” Clint twisted in his seat to face Red. “If someone took Daisy—”

“The motherfucker would be dead already.”

Clint rolled his eyes. Red was so sick in love with his wife, he couldn’t bear for her to yawn.

“Yeah, right, that much I assumed. But if you were Robert Burns, with his money and influence, and someone took your fiancée, would you be worried about sparing her reputation?”

Red snorted. “I already answered this. Severed heads would roll.”

Because he couldn’t help himself, Clint turned the photo over and examined it yet again. He wasn’t sure what he looked for, but he’d know it if he saw it. “He claims she’s a runaround, that she’s wild at heart and gave her father nothing but grief.”

“Uh huh. The same father who endowed her with riches at his death?” Red’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

“Riches that are in a trust and inaccessible to her, or so Robert claims. But I believe him about that. Why else would a rich, young, pampered society babe choose to be a teacher, unless she couldn’t get to her own money?”

“You’re asking the wrong person. Remember that I’m more than capable of providing for my wife, yet she insists on working in a damn dirty factory.”

Clint grinned despite his gnawing uncertainties. Daisy Carter did like to keep her husband on his toes. “Daisy works because she knows if she let you, you’d completely take her over.”

Red stared straight ahead, but his hands tightened on the steering wheel in telling agitation. “I love her. I want what’s best for her.”

“Yeah? And who would know what that might be more than Daisy herself?”

Red growled, “If you’re suggesting I’m too—”

“She married you, right?” Clint barely restrained his grin. “She must think you’re what’s best.”

Predictably enough, Red flushed hotly, making Clint chuckle. Clint spent the rest of the drive annoying his pal, but his humor died a quick death when they turned onto Buxton Street.

“There it is, that big brick building.” Red pulled up to the curb several houses away. They didn’t want to look too obvious by getting any closer. Already, the green van was as conspicuous here as it had been in the ritzy neighborhood.

But for opposite reasons.

The rundown houses, some of them no more than shacks, were mostly abandoned. What vehicles cluttered the road were either rusted with age or sleek and black and parked in front of Asa Ragon’s home.

A family-type minivan didn’t fit in.

Clint opened the door and stepped out. Elderly people on a sloped porch across the street stared at him, then got up and ambled inside.

“You got your piece?” Red asked through the open door.

“I don’t answer stupid questions.” His gun and his knife were a part of him. He’d go without underwear before he’d leave either one behind. But it was a rare occasion indeed when Clint used them. More often than not, his hands and feet served well enough as weapons. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

He started to slam the door, but Red stopped him. “If you’re not, I’m driving right through the front picture window.”

Clint grinned, knowing Red would do exactly that.

The cracked sidewalk had weeds poking through it, mixed with pieces of broken glass and cigarette butts. The pavement around Asa Ragon’s house, however, had been swept clean. At the end of the cul-de-sac, it towered over the other houses, an impressive brick two story with sturdy shutters and a tall chain-link fence. As Clint neared that fence, a man appeared in the front door.

Clint never slowed. He went through the unlocked gate and up the path to the porch steps. The man stepped out and glared. “Who are you and whatdya want?”

“I’m here to see Asa.”

“He ain’t home.”

“Liar.”

Outraged color flooded the man’s face two seconds before he attacked. Clint caught the raised gun hand and pulled him forward, at the same time driving an elbow into his jaw. The man went down hard and fast, and Clint was barely able to keep him from toppling down the steps. He didn’t want any broken necks on his conscience—his stomach wouldn’t survive.

He propped the poor fellow against the porch rail and entered through the front door.

Voices trailed from down a long hall. As Clint neared, he realized he’d busted in on a party. He passed a modern kitchen where several people milled about. Two men turned to stare at him in disbelief. A woman eyed him up and down with a hello smile.

Clint ignored them all.

Through an open doorway, he saw the family room. Walls had been removed in an obvious renovation so that the family room was extra long, filled with a billiard table, wet bar, and sliding doors that opened to a patio and built-in pool. Over twenty people crowded the room, men and women, all chatting and drinking. More couples lingered outside on lounge chairs and in the water. The sickening sweet scent of pot clouded the air, mingling with tobacco smoke and the drone of drunken conversation. Everyone was so busy laughing and drinking, no one noticed him.

Amazing.

Clint lounged in the doorway. “Where’s Asa?”

At the intrusion of his voice, heads turned his way. The sudden silence left only loud rap music vibrating in the air.

A middle-aged man, stylish but overweight, with graying hair and a noticeable scar on his nose, laughed in amazement. “I have an uninvited guest?”

Even if Clint hadn’t recognized the air of importance, he’d have noticed the sandpaper voice. This was Asa Ragon. Deference got thrown his way, and protection was silently offered by the swarming of other men. “I need a minute of your time; then you can get back to your party.”

Incredulous, Asa looked around and when he laughed, everyone else followed suit.

Clint kept his arms loose at his sides, his posture relaxed, his expression bored. He stared at Asa with his most intimidating expression, and the laughter died.

The women in the room—most of them young, some of them beautiful—all moved nervously, getting out of the way as if expecting an explosion. The men edged closer to Asa, displaying loyalty and the willingness to serve.

With a lazy look, Clint said, “That’s not necessary, you know. Right now, all I want to do is talk.”

Disbelief hung heavy in the air.

A few of the men made an aggressive move toward Clint, but Asa held them back with a lift of his hand. “I’m curious,” he rasped with a rough laugh. “And intrigued. You have balls, friend, to come in here like this.”

Clint glanced around at the men stiffened with hostility, and he smiled, too. He looked back at Asa. “I’m not your friend. But I would prefer to do this the easy way, so less questions get asked. I’m guessing you don’t like questions any more than I do.”

“But you still intend to ask a few?”

“Yeah.”

Asa hauled himself off the couch, pausing to whisper to the woman at his right, then pat the woman’s butt to his left. “Through here.” He gestured to Clint, indicating a door located behind the pool table.

Clint strolled forward. Though he looked unconcerned, he had a heightened awareness of every breath around him, every nuance of anticipation. He stayed loose limbed, prepared to move in any direction if necessary. He preceded Asa into the room and was followed by three hulks before Asa entered. The door shut behind them.

Clint turned to face Asa and the others, waiting to see what would happen now, ready for whatever it might be.

Asa tilted his head in a curious fashion. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have my men beat you senseless.”

Clint shrugged. “They’re of more use to you alive than dead.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I can’t guarantee they’ll survive if they attack me.” Clint looked at the livid man closest to him and shook his head. He was large, muscle bound, and in his late twenties. He would pose no challenge at all. “I know you want to, son, but the humiliation might be more than you can bear.”

Asa again chose to be amused. His scratchy laugh filled the air until tears ran down his pudgy cheeks. The other men saw no humor. Finally, Asa gestured toward a table. “Sit, sit. I can tell you won’t bore me.”

This room wasn’t as nice as the game room. A round wooden table and four chairs were in the middle of the floor. A bare bulb hung overhead. The room was small and crowded and as he sat, Clint planned a number of moves in case things turned ugly.

Asa seated himself across from him, and the other men stationed themselves around the room. “Who are you?”

“You can call me Clint.”

“No last names, eh? A wise man. So tell me, Clint, who do you work for?”

“Myself.”

“Ah, no, I don’t think so. Someone has paid you to come here.”

“Actually, someone likely wants you dead.” Clint thought of Robert’s expression whenever Asa was mentioned, and then the panic when he feared Clint might give away his name. Was Julie’s reputation really what motivated him, or was it something else? “That’s not why I’m here, though. I’m looking for a woman.”

Asa nodded, and his own smile turned patronizing, sarcastic. “I can see why you’d seek my help. You wouldn’t exactly be a prize to the ladies, would you? Not with that face.”

Clint knew what he looked like: His nose had been broken more than once. A small scar cut through his left eyebrow, another across his chin and one over his upper lip. Too many fights had left his face craggy from abuse.

He also knew that despite his appearance, women gravitated toward him because they liked the sense of danger. They were silly bitches, but when he only wanted to fuck, the reasons for their interest didn’t matter all that much.

Cutting to the point, Clint said, “I want to return a certain woman to someone else, someone you supposedly stole her from. And I want to return her unharmed.”

For the first time, the humor, the indulgent amusement, was gone. Asa turned livid. “I should kill you for that accusation.”

Well, well, well. What a telling reaction. Clint leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs in a deceptive pose, making it easier for him to roll away from the man closest to him, and to use the table for a shield if necessary. “Here’s the thing,” he muttered. “I don’t know you, so I have no idea what you’re capable of.”

For a fat man, Asa shot to his feet with surprising speed. He flattened his beringed hands on the table and leaned toward Clint. “I’m capable of anything.” The hatred in his eyes, coupled with his growl, gave credence to that claim. “But I’m not a cowardly monster who would abuse a woman, any woman.”

Clint contemplated him for a long time before coming to his own conclusions. Damn it, he believed him.

Why had Robert been so sure Asa had her? “Here, in your element, you’re powerful.”

Asa held up a large fist, squeezed tight. “Yes. I use my power to crush men who oppose me. I use my power to make a better life for my family.” The fist relaxed. “I have no need of hurting women, and any man who does is an animal who should be permanently removed from this earth. Point him out to me and I’ll gladly have him killed.”

Clint narrowed his eyes. “I was hoping you could point him out to me.”

Asa snarled, and Clint hurried to say, “It’s not that I don’t believe you. But seeing as you don’t have her as I was told, I hoped that given your influence and connections, you might have heard something else that’d give me a clue how to get her back.”

“Who told you I had her?”

“That I can’t say.” He didn’t want Robert’s death on his conscience.

Asa straightened in thought. “But you want my help?”

“I want information.”

“What do I get in return?”

Turning his own words back on him, Clint said, “The satisfaction of knowing I’ll take care of the man who took her in the first place.”

Asa was thoughtful for long moments. “When was she taken?”

“Twelve, maybe thirteen hours ago.”

In question, Asa looked around at his men. They nodded, shrugged. A small, very private conversation took place, ending when Asa belted one man across the face. The man staggered, nearly fell, then straightened as if awaiting more punishment.

Asa paced back to Clint, his expression livid. “I have information, though I didn’t realize until just now that it involved a woman.”

Clint’s blood surged; his heartbeat quickened. “Go on.”

“Unfortunately, it’s anonymous information. I fucking hate anonymity. It’s cowardly.”

Thinking of Robert’s preferences, Clint said, “I agree.”

Asa slashed a hand through the air. “Everyone knows I keep track of what happens in my neighborhood. Keeping information from me can prove…deadly.” He smiled and shrugged, as if such a penalty was to be expected. “I knew there was a kidnapping, but my man just told me that it was a woman taken. When I first heard of it, I made the mistake of assuming it was a local job, and that it was a man.”

“She’s not local.”

“Not if she’s still alive.” Asa worked his jaw.

“No one around here can pay a ransom, so if anyone’s taken, it’s to be punished.”

“She’s being ransomed.”

“Which makes her not local.”

Impatience thrummed inside Clint, so it was a good thing he didn’t have long to wait.

Wearing an air of satisfaction, Asa faced him. “Normally such information would cost you dearly. But considering it’s a woman…” He held out his arms, a king filled with benevolence. “It would be my honor to retrieve her for you.”

Clint declined that offer with a shake of his head. “Tell me where she is. I can take care of it.”

“There’s more than one man.”

Clint shrugged.

“Yes.” Asa chuckled anew. “I believe you can handle yourself. But you see, I have a personal dislike of those who mistreat women.”

Clint crossed his arms and frowned, ready to have an end to the meeting. “Yeah? Me, too.”

There was no time for small talk. At this very moment, Julie Rose could be hurt, suffering abuse. Awareness of her, of her situation, flowed through Clint’s blood with every beat of his heart.

Asa gave up with a good-natured shake of his graying head. “Fine. I’ll tell you what I know, which is the direction they were headed, and the area where they’re likely hidden.”

It was too easy. The whole scenario seemed far too pat to allow Clint to relax.

As if reading his thoughts, Asa said, “Yes, it smells like a trap, doesn’t it? I wish I knew the man who shared the details, but I don’t.”

“Do you at least have a description?”

Asa gestured to the man who still wore a hand-print on his left cheek.

Military style, the man stepped forward. “A small guy. Wiry, and like a punk.”

“A punk?”

“Long, dark hair, earring. Maybe in his mid-twenties.”

Asa dismissed the man. “If there was a trap, it was probably against me, not you.”

Clint couldn’t argue that.

“Likely, the informant assumed I’d go after her. And I would have, if I’d realized it was a woman. But understand, too, around here, anyone who finds out anything reports back to me. It’s not surprising that I’ve heard about it.”

“Just tell me what you know and I’ll take care of the rest.” And if it was a trap, Clint would handle that, too.

“Fine. But the information comes with a friendly warning—you punish the bastards or I will.”

Clint nodded agreement. “I’ll hurt them.” And if they’d hurt Julie Rose, he might even kill them, as Robert probably wanted him to.

Five minutes later, with descriptions and directions and a lot of haste, Clint reached for the door. His reasons were twofold—he felt pushed to get to Julie fast now that he knew where to find her and knew the caliber of the men who’d taken her. They were scum, without the slanted moral code to which Asa subscribed.

Also, the likelihood existed that Red, having counted out the requisite twenty minutes, would be parked in the living room at any moment.

Asa bid him farewell. “Trent will show you out. Next time you visit, it will be with a modicum of courtesy.”

Clint didn’t intend to be back, so he shrugged. “I’ll do my best.”

Trent kept pace with Clint’s hurried stride. When they stepped onto the porch, he looked down at his fallen buddy, still out cold. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing he won’t recover from.” Clint went halfway down the steps, then paused. It was unusual, but curiosity got the better of him. “Tell me why Asa is such a champion of women.”

Trent grunted. “It’s not a secret. His mother was killed trying to fight off three men who beat and raped his sister.”

Clint went still in surprise. “His sister?”

“She was in her early teens when it happened, and now she’s all the family he has left.”