Protection

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

His head was dying from the inside out!

Clint’s eyes slid open and he felt the full impact of a splitting headache. He closed his eyes against the sunlight pouring through the window and winced.

What had happened to him?

He tried to pull himself into a sitting position, but it only made his headache worse. His hands ached and when he looked down, he saw his bruised knuckles.

Had he got into a fight? Looking down at his hip, he saw his empty holster and a surge of panic rushed through him. Had he lost the gun? Had he lost it in some poker game? What had possibly gone wrong?

Forcing himself into a sitting position and trying to ignore the pain, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand. The pain in his head became too much to bear and he fell back down onto the bed with a groan. Just then, a wall-rattling growl echoed throughout the room and Clint jumped.

What was making that awful noise?

Taking in his surroundings, Clint found himself in a hotel room.

How did he end up in a hotel room?

It wasn’t fancy, with only the necessary furnishings and walls that didn’t block any sound from outside.

The loud noise came again and Clint looked around, his head throbbing from the sound. He found Damian lying in the bed across the room from him, his mouth wide open and eyes closed shut. That loud racket was a snore coming from that man. Clint would have rolled his eyes if his head wasn’t hurting so much.

Instead, he reached for the book on the bedside table and threw it at him. Damian let out a whine that rivaled a child’s.

“Ah, my head!” he exclaimed as he rubbed his temples.

Clint rubbed his forehead and was finally able to stand up. He needed to find his gun and Miss Cooper. He had no idea what had happened to him yesterday, but he wasn’t planning on stopping long enough to find out until he found his gun. Glancing toward the chest-of-drawers on the wall in front of him, Clint took a few staggering steps toward it. His foot caught on a heap in the floor and he looked down. A groan came from the heap, and Clint recognized Colt’s shaggy dark hair.

“What’s going on?” Colt asked.

“What are you doing in the floor?” Clint snapped.

“The beds were taken,” Colt mumbled.

Clint approached the desired piece of furniture and searched every drawer. No sign of his gun.

“Where’s my gun? Where’s Miss Cooper?” He asked Colt.

Colt shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Stop talking!” Damian complained, stuffing a pillow over his face. “You’re making my head worse.”

Clint stepped back over Colt. “How did I end up here? Is Miss Cooper in this hotel? I need to find her.”

“I don’t know where she is. I came in late last night. I found you two sleeping and figured you wouldn’t mind if I bunked with ya’ll,” Colt explained.

A loud rap sounded at the door and Damian whined.

Wimp.

“Come in,” Colt said.

Clint scowled at him. Never let just anyone enter your room unannounced, especially when you didn’t have a gun. Did these people possess any common sense?