Natasha found Clint in his apartment, which made life easier. He was sitting on the couch, a beer in one hand, a knife dangling casually from the other.
The floor was strewn with clothes — not unusual for Clint, but generally there weren’t this many on the floor. It looked as though he’d emptied his entire closet and dresser. Underwear, sweatpants, t-shirts, uniform gear. Two pairs of boots and one pair of running shoes. Two ties. Several pairs of socks. And a six pack’s worth of beer bottles.
Bottle Opener
Published
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