Clint Barton Novels & Stories

One dark night, where I climb into a car expecting Cain to be there, but coming face to face with Abaddon instead. "I need to leave now, are you coming with me?" He offers his hand to me but I shake my head. I might not remember everything, but from what I have read in my notes, what Cain and I have is real, he protected me and now I need to do the same for him. "Ok, but if you need me, call me. My name's Eli." He slips a piece of paper into my hand, then slips away just before Chloe comes around the corner.

A squeaky voice spoke and I quickly averted my gaze from the two lovebirds back to the living room, only to notice another blonde girl, even more gorgeous than the other, only this one looked rather bitchy, standing in the middle of the living room, glaring in our way, with her arms crossed. Judging by the way she was looking at us, she was clearly not the friendly type, unlike Elyse. “She’s not a toy, Clara,” He answered rather annoyed, not even bothering to turn around and look at her. But she clearly wasn’t satisfied by his answer by the way she was glaring at us now, even more angered. “Then what is she?” She then questioned, nervously tapping her foot on the floor. “That’s none of your

Ethan pauses as he clenched his jaw, “you’ll answer them.” He unbuttoned the tight collar around his neck and I watched in horror as he started on the buttons. Ignoring the look on my face he made his way to the edge of my bed. When he sat down he stopped unbuttoning about halfway down his shirt. I could see his muscular chest but it did nothing for me. I didn’t miss the red scratch marks that peaked out from under the shirt.

He said, "It's a secret, but if I don't have to kill you, then I guess I could tell you." Zia, "..." There was a moment of pure silence before Stella cracked up. She said, "You are a funny man! Haha! But, of course, we can keep a secret, especially since you are Adrian King's assistant. We, the Martins, know that crossing him won't be easy." Clint smiled confidently. He said, "Very well, then, it's Clinton Bradford." "Clinton Bradford? How many Bradfords are there? You wouldn't be Samuel Bradford's son, right?" Stella asked.

“Whe n I told him his son’s heart stopped, he groaned and hung up on me.” “He what now?” I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I get that you don’t like Clint because he’s a dick. But his father makes him look like a saint.” “Sounds like it.”

Clint did not wake up early despite the fact that he set alarms and sleep early. It is one of the things that his mother usually fight him about. You need to be up and not always sleeping, she would always say. Shooting out from the bed, he walked down to the bathroom to have a bathe. The police incharge of acting as his driver will soon be here and he is not prepared. He hurriedly had his bathe and dressed up in a brown suit with black Italian shoes. Checking the time, 8:10am, the driver will soon be here. Clint rushed down to kitchen to get himself some snacks but then he heard the knock on the door. Damn, he is here Clint said and walked down to the door to open the door only to find out

“A bunch of impudent Celestial Imperial people! How dare you guys cause trouble in the Hapi Clubhouse? You guys are tired of having a long life, right?” “Hehe...” Clifford Hann let out a cold laugh. Then, the very next second, he took a stride forward and grabbed that man’s finger, which he was using to point at Tyr, before forcibly snapping it. “Arghhh!!!” A miserable scream rang out. Clifford had broken the man’s finger. “You have got some balls!” Barton’s expression had turned entirely murky. He didn’t expect this bunch of people to be so lawless. They even had the nerves to lay their hands on his men on his turf. Didn’t they just have a death wish?

Mirabel was next, skipping, laughing, carrying a small teddy bear with a ribbon that said “For Mommy.” Japheth came last, calm as usual, but even he couldn’t stop grinning. I fell to the ground and embraced everyone, and the sudden calm allowed my heart to rest. With a gentle whisper, I kissed every one of them, “You scared the living daylights out of me.” “But we were with Daddy,” Jake said innocently. “We had to hide so we could make the surprise!” I looked up, and there he was. Clinton. Leaning slightly by the bar, a drink in his hand. Dark navy blazer. Crisp white shirt. No tie. He was wearing a clean suit, his hair professionally brushed, and his usual smile showing as he spoke.

"Yes.” Clayton turned away, stalking toward the home bar. He grabbed a bottle, poured himself a shot of whiskey, and threw it back in one go. He poured another, and then with the glass in hand, he walked back, standing a few feet away from me as his gaze flicked to the television. "I thought you were leaving," I muttered.

I manage, “Derek Barton ate Jimmy Jones, then his old man? That’s why we haven’t had to worry about that illegal poker club over at The Stumble Inn these past few months? Jones hasn’t been around to run it because . . . ” I open my eyes, peer at Gavin, part of me wishing to Heaven I’d never started this but also knowing deep in my gut, now, that it was inevitable. “I bet if I called Henry Chin, Barton’s landlord, he’d just say Barton skipped town and his rent, and he probably wouldn’t even think to mention a small little thing like cleaning up huge bloodstains on the floor after Barton cleared out.” Gavin nods slowly. “You knew Barton, then?”