The Protector Page 16

  Bounding down the precipice into the tree line, he had to grab at tree branches to slow his descent. It wouldn’t do Eryn any good if he broke his neck; on the other hand, he couldn’t get to her fast enough.

  The sound of his pounding heart became indistinct from the thudding of his boots as he crashed downhill toward the trail that would carry him back to her. Stanley would be so pissed if he let the FBI take her back.

  Was that a gun shot?

  Eryn froze at the sound, her heart palpitating. Then the FBI was already here, and Ike was out there trying to chase them off his land. Oh, my God!

  No sooner had she arrived at that awful realization than the cabin’s front door groaned open. Recalling Ike’s warning about the lantern, she snuffed the flame, plunging the cellar into total darkness.

  Please, let it be Ike, she prayed, straining to hear over the blood rushing past her eardrums.

  The intruder closed the door quietly behind him. Footfalls, heavier than Ike’s, moved stealthily across the floorboards above her. Winston growled low in his throat, and Eryn crouched beside him, hushing him and clutching him for reassurance.

  It could only be the FBI. She glanced back at the collar, hidden in the dark on the cot but still broadcasting her location. What do I do?

  Think through your fear, Ike’s voice whispered in her head. The cellar was hidden. Maybe if she stayed put, whoever was looking for her would give up. Or Ike would come back and chase them off.

  Fractured light sliced through the floorboards as the intruder switched on a flashlight.

  Eryn considered arming herself. She was surrounded by weapons, none of which she knew how to use.

  Upstairs, the bathroom door swung open. Winston growled again, and she squeezed him tighter, her heart pounding.

  “Eryn,” called a familiar voice. “It’s Jackson. I know you’re under the house. Are you okay?” He sounded genuinely worried.

  Jackson. She’d always trusted Jackson, only she didn’t want to go back with him. She felt safer with Ike.

  But then Winston, recognizing Jackson’s voice, tossed up his head and barked in greeting.

  “Eryn?” Jackson’s voice sounded closer, like he was standing right at the height of the stairs. “How do I get to you?” He opened and closed Ike’s second bedroom door.

  “Go away,” she called. “I don’t want to leave with you. I’m safer here.”

  “Come on, Eryn. He’s got you down in the basement. That’s kind of creepy, don’t you think?”

  “It’s not like that. He’s protecting me.”

  “We can protect you, too.” He started tapping on the wall, searching for the stairs.

  “Right, like you did at the safe house?”

  “You’re right. That was a trap that backfired. I had no idea my boss had leaked the location of the safe house. I swear I’ll protect you better next time. You trust me, right?”

  “Go away! I like it here.”

  He sighed. “It’s not that simple, Eryn. Either you can tell me where you are, or I’ll just break this wall down. Ah.” With a snick, the darkness suddenly lifted. Bright light shone down the stairwell. Jackson had found the way in.

  Eryn pushed to her feet as he descended the steps. “Stay,” she ordered, gripping Winston’s scruff as he attempted to rush at the agent. Jackson pinned them in the beam of his flashlight, and she blinked at him defiantly.

  “Are you okay?” He looked her over thoroughly.

  “I already told you. I’m fine.”

  The light slid away from her to pan the four walls. “Holy Christ,” he whispered, as surprised as she had been by the quantity of weapons assembled in one place.

  Now. “Sic, Winston!” Eryn released her dog.

  With a mock-ferocious growl, the Shepherd mix lunged at Jackson, toppling him. Eryn dashed past them up the wooden stairs. She sped out of the bathroom, through the living room and out the front door. Vaulting off the porch, she headed straight for Ike’s lookout up the huge oak tree.

  **

  A rash of barking confirmed Ike’s worst fears. He berated himself for not anticipating the FBI’s strategy. As a former Spec Ops commando, he was trained to think outside the box. In that regard, he had failed the Commander tonight.

  Sprinting down the last treacherous path, he approached the cabin at a speed he knew was reckless. But how would he ever redeem himself in Stanley’s eyes if he let Eryn be taken?

  At the verge of bursting into the clearing, he threw himself against a tree, caught his breath, and queried his senses.

  The wavering light of a flashlight silvered the tiny leaves in the woods around him. A man’s voice, cajoling but tinged with desperation, was calling Eryn’s name.

  She’s mine, thought Ike, raising his sniper rifle. Peering through the crosshairs, he caught site of his target in the yard. It was the third agent, sure enough, the light-skinned black man, young and physically fit. As he searched the fog-shrouded shrubs, Winston loped happily alongside him, his tail wagging a mile a minute.

  If the dog was out of the cellar, then where the hell was Eryn?

  Setting his rifle to fire a single round, Ike aimed it well above the agent’s head and pulled the trigger.

  Crack! The agent sank into a crouch, dropping his light, which sputtered and died. But in the next instant, he fired back, his bullet hitting the ground within a yard of Ike’s position.

  Luck had nothing to do with this man’s accuracy. Ike broke cover, darting to a new location.

  “Don’t shoot, Calhoun,” the man called suddenly, with a healthy dose of respect in his voice. “That’s not going to help your cause any.”

  “Get off my property,” Ike growled back.

  “I’m going,” the other man assured him. “But this isn’t over, not by a long shot. I came here to warn you, Calhoun. My boss wants Miss McClellan back in FBI custody, and he’ll stop at nothing to get her. If you don’t surrender her willingly, you’re going to find yourself in a heap of trouble.”

  “Go before I change my mind and shoot your ass,” said Ike, unimpressed.

  The agent bolted from cover. Ike listened to him sprint into the woods, confident of his direction, even in the dark. He had to have had prior military service. It was possible the man would even double back, but Ike didn’t think so. The agent had inferred that the FBI would seek some legal means of detaining him.

  Out of nowhere, Winston barreled into him, planting his front paws on his chest. Ike went to pull him down and found his collar missing.

  “Eryn?” he called, his worry rushing back. He sought her heat signature. Nothing. Aside from a raccoon, cowering under a bush, the yard was deserted. Christ, if she’d run off into the fog, she could have stepped over an unseen cliff and plunged to her death.

  “Where is she, boy?” he asked the dog. “Find Eryn.”

  Loping to the oak tree, the Shepherd mix lifted his leg, and Ike groaned.

  “I’m up here.” The sound of her voice, coming from way up in the branches, snatched his head up.

  Well, I’ll be damned.

  She’d found a good hiding spot, albeit a cold one. He climbed the slat rungs swiftly, concerned about her state of mind. When his head crested the crow’s nest, he found her huddled on the floor, her face as pale as the moon.

  “You’re in trouble, Ike,” she stated, wringing her hands. “You’re in trouble because of me.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he insisted, moving closer. Thank God she was safe.

  “They followed us here.” Words tumbled out of her mouth barely making sense. “It was Winston’s collar. I didn’t realize it, but they’d swapped out his old one for a new one. The tracking devise is in the buckle plate, I think.”

  Stunned, he just looked at her. “But…couldn’t you tell it was a different collar?”

  She shook her head. “I never noticed. I guess with those pills I was taking…”

  “It’s not your fault.” Her self-reproach had him rushing to reassure h
er. “I missed it, too. If the collar has a tracking device, I should have noticed.”

  She gave him a sudden, unexpected shove. “Why didn’t you tell me that the FBI followed us?” she demanded, suddenly irate. “You knew all along, didn’t you? You saw them when we went shopping. And then Dwayne confirmed it, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted, bracing himself for the return of her panic.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” She smacked him in the shoulder with a balled fist.

  Because protecting her was his job. Catching her hand, he found it ice-cold.

  “Oh, Ike.” Her fierce demeanor softened as he warmed her fingers between his palms, saying nothing. “Why do you keep so quiet?” she whispered with a searching look.

  Her hands were so delicate, so smooth.

  “Don’t you know it’s unhealthy to bottle everything inside you?” she added, stroking the side of his face.

  He felt his insides melt. “I’m all right,” he assured her, his voice turning raspy.

  “Are you?” She didn’t seem convinced.

  “So what happened?” he asked, unused to the spotlight. “How’d you get away from the agent?”

  “Jackson,” she said, giving him a name. She sat up taller, her proud little smile lighting up the darkness. “I thought through my fear,” she told him on a proud note. “I sic’ed Winston on him, just like you said I could, and I got away.”

  Visualizing it, he just had to grin. “You did great,” he acknowledged. “Just, uh…do me a favor and don’t tell your dad about tonight. I should never have left you by yourself.”

  “Yeah, I was starting to think you had PTSD.”

  “What?” He didn’t follow her.

  “I thought you were imagining intruders,” she added with a rueful smile. “That’s what happens when you don’t talk to me. My imagination takes flight.”

  “You thought I was crazy?” What the hell kind of opinion did she have of him, anyway?

  “PTSD isn’t crazy. It’s a completely natural reaction to unprecedented levels of stress.” She gave a sudden shudder. Her lower lip trembled. “In fact, I think I have a touch of it myself,” she added, tears glimmering in the dark.

  Ike’s indignation evaporated. Her efforts to be brave and resourceful made her irresistible. He pulled her roughly into his lap and wrapped his arms around her to quell her tremors. With a sigh of relief, Eryn leaned into him and snuggled closer.

  The lingering adrenaline inside him heightened his awareness of her to painful levels, turning him instantly hard. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  Eryn’s head shifted on his shoulder as she tilted her face toward his. In the next instant, her lips landed warmly on his chin.

  What the hell. Ike couldn’t ignore the unspoken invitation. With a groan, he crushed his lips to hers. The lure of her darting tongue immediately beguiled him. By the time he thought he should scrounge up some self-restraint, he came up empty-handed. The well was all dried up.

  And he honestly didn’t give a shit.

  If Stanley hadn’t wanted Ike to touch his precious daughter, then he should’ve found a more reputable man to protect her. Eryn was too beautiful, too sweet, too delectable to resist. And, despite the training that made Ike one of the best warriors in the world, he was still flesh and blood, with basic, male needs. And one need in particular had a powerful grip on him.

  Eryn’s heart trotted at the message in Ike’s kiss. It was a kiss of desperation, of surrender. She felt as if she’d pried open a door, and his true essence was pouring out like rays of sunshine bearing his heat and energy. She’d been waiting for this moment, for him to emerge from his private prison since the day they’d met.

  Somewhere between the glide and retreat of his clever tongue, she managed a suggestion: “Let’s go inside.”

  He went still at her whispered words, and she kicked herself for talking at all, when body language had sufficed just fine.

  “I have to check my laptop,” he divulged. “See what the agents are doing.”

  His words were an unpleasant reminder of what she had already managed to put out of her mind. “You think they’ll be back tonight?” Oh, please, no. She wanted to weep at the FBI’s awful timing. Here Ike was finally letting down his guard, and the agents wouldn’t leave them alone long enough for her to get to know him better.

  “Probably tomorrow,” he replied, giving her hope. His lips hovered over hers, caressing them lightly, regretfully. “But we should leave.”

  “What? Tonight?” Her hopes plummeted.

  “That way we’ll be gone when they return.”

  “No.” She curled her fingers into the dense muscles of his back. “I don’t want to leave, not tonight. Make love to me first, Ike,” she added, startled by her directness, but not at all ashamed. “Please.” So what if he wasn’t Mr. Right? Her life had taken a drastic detour in the past month. What guarantee did she have that she would even live long enough to find the one?

  Ike was the only man in her life who mattered, a man fully capable of satisfying her needs. She could trust him. She wanted him. Why deny herself the experience when there might never be another?

  At her words, he drew a deep breath. His eyes glittered with unmistakable desire.

  “You said they’ll be back in the morning. We still have time,” she assured him.

  “We might,” he agreed. “I’ll know more once I check my laptop.”

  His words implied that his laptop was linked to the same high tech security system that was also linked to his watch. She felt safer knowing that, though it was Ike himself who made her feel secure. “Let’s go check it, then,” she urged, squirming out of his arms.

  “Not that way.” He caught her back, rolling smoothly to his feet. “Best way to get down is to use the rope.” She watched in wonder as he reached into the branches, caught the top of the dangling rope, and held out his hand to her. “Come on, princess. We’ll go down together.”

  The endearment made her heart flutter; still, she clung to the far side of the crow’s nest, uncommitted. “That’s what you said the last time,” she reminded him.

  “Boy Scout’s honor this time.” His teeth flashed in the dark.

  “You were a Boy Scout?” Skeptical, she nonetheless took his proffered hand and let him pull her to the opening on the other side of the crow’s nest.

  “Eagle Scout,” he said without conceit. “Now, reach for this and hug it tight. Once you’re on I’ll swing around you.”

  Glancing into the void below, she balked. But the only way to get back into the cabin was to reach the ground again, and reaching the ground was high on her list of priorities tonight.

  With a squeal of fear, she clasped the rope with both hands and stepped off the crow’s nest. Clamping her thighs around the rope, she managed not to plummeting thirty feet.

  In the next instant, Ike was behind her, his hands above hers, his feet below. “Loosen your grip,” he said.

  Together they glided slowly and gracefully down the smooth length of the rope. By the time her feet touched the ground, Eryn felt that, with Ike, she could do anything. Anything at all.

  On spongy knees she tottered toward the porch, her hand firmly held in his, her heart leaping with the anticipation of getting to know him, intimately.

  When Eryn slipped into the bathroom with a breathless excuse, Ike went straight to his laptop, accessing the images there and studying them intently.

  There were four new images waiting for him. The first showed the agents regrouping near the spot where he’d left them. The one in charge appeared to be irate, chewing out the one who’d gone in for the recovery—Jackson, Eryn had called him, with respect in her voice.

  The next three images showed all the agents retreating up to Skyline Drive. Ike expelled a sigh of relief and guessed that they’d go back to wherever they were staying. Come morning, they’d procure a warrant for his arrest, citing some lame charge. By midmorning, they’d be back.

&nbs
p; Only he and Eryn wouldn’t be here. At least they didn’t need to leave right away. His blood warmed at the prospect of fulfilling Eryn’s request. Make love to me first, Ike.

  Unless she’d changed her mind....

  Glancing at the bathroom door, he steeled himself to accept that distinct possibility. He could never accurately guess her next move. Would she emerge fully dressed and announce that she had spoken impulsively? Hell, he wouldn’t blame her if she did. All he really had to offer her were a few hours of reprieve from the nightmare that had become her life. She could get that from any man. He happened to be the one on hand.