Clint Barton Novels & Stories

His hands clawed at me, but I bared my teeth, daring him to continue. With a final blow, I knocked him out. I stood up and fought with the others, all the while my eyes kept drifting towards where Clinton was. Falcon was high on alert, wanting to make sure that her mate was alright. Minutes later, all the rogues were dead except one. I was wounded, but it was nothing I wouldn’t heal from soon enough. I’d always been a fast healer. I watched as Clinton transformed, his face a battlefield of rage. A shiver ran through my spine as my eyes trailed down his body, stopping on his huge dick. It didn't help that Falcon chose that moment to send lewd images of me and Clinton.

"Mind If I take a look in your pond awhile, I promise not to break it if I can help it." The bartender nodded slightly and everyone got into place. "Clive Taylor," said Brick moving right to the small chubby man, wearing a dirty brown shirt and faded blue jeans with a prominent bald spot in the middle of his head, who had been the most nervous about their being in the bar. "I know some folks been lookin' for ya."

She needed someone to reassure her. "Madam, you can't believe that." Barton turned the steering wheel slowly and said urgently, "That night, he was completely drunk. I was only gone for ten minutes to get him some hangover medicine. In that short amount of time, I'm sure nothing happened." Uh... Barton's words were meant to comfort Chloe, but in reality, he knew the truth. He had been gone for at least forty to fifty minutes. He didn't think anything had happened while Lionel was passed out, so he had taken that opportunity to search for Chloe.

“Honestly, those two boys are probably the best choices from the men we think would say yes. I don’t think many others in town would want the job.” Clifton Vonn and Tyler Barron. I knew those names. Clifton and I had gone to high school together. He had been the backup quarterback since freshman year. Tyler was a few years younger than me and had dated one of Selene’s friends for a while in high school. Neither one really seemed like enforcer material from what I remembered. “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll talk with Jaxon and see what we want to do.” “We’ll leave you to it then,” Ernest said.

Feeling the suppressed angre in her boss’s tone, Sophia adds quickly: “Answer the Alpha’s question. You don’t want to know the consequences of disobey. What did she want from you?” “She asked about the fall of the Moore family from a year ago!” Experienced the horror of being kept under a power that he has absolutely no chance of even resisting, Clint soon realizes his position and even his speaking gets smoother. “And what did you tell her?” Slphia asks. Her rather soft voice soothed Clint. “Richard Ryan! He is the city’s best hitman. His gang takes his kind of jobs that no one else dare!” Clint says, avoding mentioning his parts in it.

Not under weight, but under a tremendous, crushing feeling. "This one…" Clarkson's whisper was a rasping whisper. He attempted to clear his throat, but it did not steady. "This one is from a boy. Sixteen. In Nebraska." Jonah moved closer, his heart racing. He had seen Clarkson set his face against boardroom raids and media mobs with icy calm. He had seen him weep tears of happiness at their engagement. But this was not like that. This was a bare, unguarded vulnerability that seemed to have shattered him asunder.

“Uh, no. Hard pass, man.” “Why?” Ryder looked completely confused. “Because I enjoy having functioning bones.” Ryder let out a laugh. “Come on, you look like you’d make the team. You’ve even got the build.” “Yeah, and you’ve got the build to wrestle bears. Doesn’t mean you should.” Clint leaned back in his own chair, taking a muffin out of his saucer and biting into it. “Besides, I think I prefer to watch and cheer from the stands. With my girlfriend of course.” He added after a few beats, and I almost didn’t hear because of how almost full his mouth was.

Chapter Eleven— fake dating. ☆Micaiah's POV☆ We sat in his study. Barton himself looked like something out of a mob movie—sixty years old, silver hair slicked back, a pinky ring that caught the light when he moved his hand. Kieran stood behind me, silent and watchful. He'd barely said a word since we arrived. "So," Barton said, swirling his scotch. "Daemon Blackwood." I leaned back, keeping my expression neutral. "He's becoming a problem."

Genji said as he pulled out his holo phone. “DON'T YOU DARE SEND IT TO MAIKA AND GET ME OUT OF HERE NOW!” Clayton shouted. Genji and Willow rolled their eyes as they laughed at the sergeant as they tried to pull him out by grabbing his center and groin plate. “I will hand it to you Clay despite Esmeralda blowing up. I am more impressed that you didn’t get torn in half by that explosion.” “Well Bossman I am awesome and I got plot armor!” Clayton bragged. “I would not count on it, you are merely a lucky mortal.” The Demon grunted.

“Buddy, welcome.” A big smile was shaped on Marcus’ lips as he saw Clayton entering his working room. Marcus was older a few years than Clayton, he had a dark-skinned tone since he liked to spend most days in some outdoor activities. He worked for the data analysis unit at the research division. He was one of The Hunkers who worked as Clayton’s assistant.