Clint POV
The house was bigger than it should be for one person. It easily had three bedrooms. But that didn't make sense because Romanoff didn't have a partner from what I could tell.
I somehow felt at home here but again it didn't make sense. The house seemed familiar. I could just picture the layout in my head. I waited a few minutes before getting out of the "borrowed" car and walking down the walkway to the front door. I got the key out of the potted plant on the table. How did I know that was there? Brushing the dirt off, I unlocked the door as quiet as possible.
I paused for a moment and listened. Nothing. Everything on this street was eerily quiet. Everyone must be in bed. Makes sense since it was three in the morning after all.
I pushed the door open. Arms were around my neck before my eyes had time to adjust and lips met mine. It took me half a second to adjust. I shoved them away and blindly flicked on the lights. I drew another arrow and leveled it at her.
The color drained from her face as she stared back at me. I took the chance to study her face. Green eyes. Her hair was a shade of red that you couldn't get from hair dye. Her eyes flicked to the door behind me.
"No point in trying to escape," I said.
Her eyes moved back to mine and I realized I hadn't killed her yet. Why?
"I know."
I nodded and glanced around. There was a man's stuff here as well. A shirt here and there, bills. The hoodie she was wearing seemed too big for her. Her file didn't say anything about a relationship.
"Your husband, boyfriend, or whatever home?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Where?" I asked, moving forward causing her to move back.
"Here."
"Where!" I snapped sharply.
"You."
I frowned.
"I've never met you in my life," I replied evenly.
