Clint Barton Novels & Stories

David Bryant, he’s friends with Mikali and Kurt. He’s a quick-witted guy, with lots of tattoos and piercings thought in his trooper uniform. He wasn’t wearing any of those piercings, and I could only see a hint of the tattoos on his neck. “An attack?" I furrowed my brow. “I didn’t hear anything,” I shrugged.

Langston commented gently. Clayton sat on the stool in front of his father and nodded, seriously. “There’s no one else that I want to be with, dad,” he replied calmly. He run a hand through his hair. “You should have seen me became livid when I saw Jacob running to the front of his house, carrying her without any shirt on while she was in her active wear.”

His desolate expression made him look like a leaf about to fall—fragile, trembling, and helpless. Unable to stay indifferent, Serena changed the subject. “You were doing fine not long ago—how did you get so seriously ill all of a sudden?” “I… I’m fine. Just a little cold,” Clint forced a smile. “Don’t lie to me. On the way here, the nurse already told me. You were hospitalized because of a stomach hemorrhage caused by excessive drinking.” Clint shut his mouth and said nothing. “Was it for entertaining clients, for the sake of business?”

I didn’t need the half-truths he’d been dishing out like rationed water anymore. When I finally looked at him, Clint wasn’t standing like the man who usually had three backup plans tucked behind every decision. He looked… tired. Not exhausted as he’d run from something. But tired in the way people get when they’ve spent too long lying, too long covering tracks that keep reappearing.

A fire that melted the knot of anxiety she'd had since Clint's first assault. "Sowhat can you tell me about this Clint?" "You mean as far as his appearance?" "Yeah, but let's start with his full name and description." "All right. His name is Clint Jackson. He's about six feet tall, well built, with black hair and dark eyes. As you might have guessed, he's mean and loses his temper very easily." Her lips trembled and her knees began to shake as the vile memories coursed through her mind. She shook her head. "Does this guy carry any kind of weapon?"

“ The next time you try something like that, I won't be so forgiving.” The sudden clap of hands echoes in the room, the crisp sound demanding for our attention. Both of our heads turn to stare in the direction of the clap. There at the door stands a fucking tall, handsome man, I can only guess he is 6’4. He is freakishly hot, with a rugged look that makes my knees weak. His jaw is so sharp it can cut through anything “ Quite a show you both have going on,” He says casually as he leans on the door. A huge rugged smirk plastered on his handsome face. “Tell me, Santino, is this her?”

~Introduction to the Male lead~ Name: Zion Black Knight. Age: 19 years. Lives in: Manchester. A British national. Height: 6.1ft, Fair skin, black eye. He is a high schooler. He is somebody that can't be restrained or tamed. The child of world's best and richest businessman, Andrew Black Knight. The one who brought the renovation in the entire IT industry. He is rich, handsome and intelligent with a photographic memory. Perfect in every way.

"What else do you remember? What about the incident on the cliff?" Damien looked at his twin brother with teary eyes. "A guy with a long-barreled shotgun. He pushed me." The puzzle of Alpha Darren's past that he had been trying to solve was answered. "I was so confused by my own memories that I blamed myself," he muttered. He smiled wryly. "He wasn't a good father because he just kept quiet without trying to straighten out my memories. He even had the heart to kill his own son. Adam, you really are the definition of the worst father ever.”

I can’t even imagine what these cost compared to the pads I put on my BMW. “Nice, ain’t she?” The voice from behind me startles me, and I nearly drop the box as I turn around to see Clint standing there, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigar. He grins and takes a drag. “All those dumb rappers and their gaudy Lamborghinis, but this will blow any of those pieces of shit away any day.” “Yes.” I nod. “Yes, it will.”

Barry glanced at Clinton and said, "Clinton, do you have a death wish, too? He might not understand how it works here, but you do. Both of you—kneel outside now. I'll deal with you when I'm done here!" Surprisingly, Clinton broke down when he heard those words. He crawled to Barry and pleaded, "Mr. Barry, please! This man is here to cause you trouble. I followed your orders about Wyatt and his family, but he showed up and killed my men. He forced me to bring him here! "Mr. Barry, you have to do something!" Barry's face darkened as he glared at Matthias, his tone angry. "You're digging your own grave! I ordered them to trouble Wyatt and his family, yet you dared help them? How dare you disres