The Protector Read online

  Eryn went rigid. She shot to her elbow. “What? How can you say that?” she demanded.

  He couldn’t believe he was discussing this with her, though it had been easier to talk about than he’d thought it would be. “I was the OIC,” he said dully.

  “So? Ike, you told me you let your men cast a vote. What was their decision?”

  He rubbed his eyes. “One of them said we should just shoot them quietly. The other four wanted to let them go.”

  “So it wasn’t your decision that got them killed,” she said in vehement defense of him.

  “All right, Eryn,” he agreed, with intent to dismiss the conversation. He soothed her back against the pillows. “I’ll be right back,” he added, rolling out of bed to address the condom situation.

  As he eased into the bathroom, he shivered at the cool air wafting out of the still-open cellar door. He cleaned himself up quickly then went back into the bedroom, fully anticipating another round of mind-blowing sex.

  He found Eryn huddled under the covers, freshly asleep. Her hair, gilded by the light that framed the blind, lay like a shimmering scarf over her shoulder.

  My woman, he thought, rocked by a sudden possessiveness. At least, she was his for now. He wanted to wake her up, to make love to her again like they had all the time in the world. But they didn’t. They needed to leave Overlook Mountain before the Feds came back.

  It was better this way. He knew the more he got used to her, the more he would want to keep her. Christ, he couldn’t believe he’d told her about the incident. He hadn’t even thought about it for months, but the current circumstances had made it come rushing to the foreground, as if it had happened only yesterday.

  At least she’d defended him. That came as a huge relief. If only her father felt the same way.

  Resisting the urge to join her, he turned and hunted for the clothes he’d discarded earlier. As much as he wanted to bridge reality with his dreamy relationship projections, he had a job to do.

  Dressing with haste, he jogged down into the cellar with Winston on his heels. As he lit the gas lamp, he spotted the dog’s collar on the cot and went to pick it up.

  He could see, now, how the buckle plate might serve a dual function. Scrounging up a screwdriver, he pried it apart where the two molded halves came together. Sure enough, as they separated, a SIM card, a tiny antenna and a battery, all wired together, fell into his hand. Sonofabitch. He laid them carefully aside. Then he squeezed the two halves back together and buckled the collar onto the dog.

  It was time to plan for their exodus. But as he considered what they would need to take with them, memories of the past hour kept interfering with his thoughts.

  There weren’t any more rules of engagement for eluding the FBI than there’d been for dealing with innocent shepherd boys. All he had were Stanley’s directives to keep Eryn away from them and, of course, from the terrorists.

  Stanley hadn’t made a clear distinction between the two, but there sure as hell was a big one. Ike had no problem offing terrorists. Firing at a federal agent, on the other hand, could get him convicted—hell, he was probably in trouble already for shooting at Jackson.

  He couldn’t blaze his way out of the situation. He would have to be clever and resourceful. And he couldn’t let Eryn—or any burgeoning feelings he might have for her—distract him from his primary mission.

  Stripping off his black sweater, he donned a military issue T-shirt, fresh out of the package. He found a box labeled XL and pulled out a starched set of BDU’s, trading his black attire for woodland patterned camouflage.

  Donning battle dress made him feel like he still had options; he was still in control.

  In a previously unopened box, he found a small set for Eryn to wear. He headed upstairs to wake her up.

  But when he got there, he couldn’t immediately do it.

  He stood over her, riding the ebb and flow of each breath; reminding himself that this thing between them—the perfect chemistry, his deep-down fulfillment—meant nothing. He’d never be more to Eryn than a source of comfort and distraction. She was Stanley’s daughter. She deserved the sun and moon, so much more than he could give her right now.

  With common sense urging haste, he stroked his finger over her cheek. “Eryn, wake up.”

  The corners of her mouth pulled down in a pout.

  The look made his heart contract. Sorry, princess. Time was running out.

  Eryn pried her heavy eyelids open. As she met Ike’s gaze, memories of their lovemaking caused a wave of pleasure to roll through her and made every extremity tingle.

  “Time to get up,” he said, banishing her contentment. “We have to leave,” he added.

  She lifted her head off the pillow, noticing his change in attire, the alert manner in which he held himself. “Already?” she asked, dismayed.

  “Already,” he confirmed.

  “But...” Her heart sank. She’d hoped they wouldn’t have to leave, after all, that Ike would have thought of an alternative course of action. “Where will we go?”

  “Somewhere safe.” He turned from the bed, lifted a folded set of BDUs off his dresser, and tossed them down next to her. “Put these on. We have ten minutes.”

  She was about to ask a zillion questions when he picked up his laptop and disappeared into the bathroom. She could hear him moving swiftly down the wooden steps into the cellar.

  Numb with exhaustion, Eryn scooted to the edge of the bed to search the floor for her underwear. Recalling how he’d hauled them off her made her blush. She had no regrets about what had followed—none at all. Ike had finally shared the awful tragedy that had changed his life. He’d opened up to her, at last!

  Damn the FBI for not just leaving them alone. She’d have been perfectly happy to stay here with Ike for as long as it took them to catch the terrorists.

  Shivering in the cool air, she dressed quickly in the BDU’s he’d given her. The stiff, starchy canvas abraded her sensitized skin. There was only one reason he could have told her to put them on, she realized with an unpleasant start. They were going to have to blend with the forest, to hide from the FBI.

  Realizing she still had no socks to wear, she dashed upstairs to fetch a pair. She ran into Winston on her way back down. “You put Winston’s collar back on?” she called out, perplexed.

  “Took out the tracking device.” Ike’s voice came from the cellar steps. “You were right.”

  “So where is it now?” she asked.

  Stepping in her line of sight, he patted a pocket on his thigh.

  “Don’t you want to burn it or something?”

  “I have a better plan.” His gaze slid to the dog who sat expectantly at the bedroom door, and all expression vanished from his face.

  Eryn’s gut tightened. She had learned to recognize that look. “What’s wrong?” she demanded.

  He met her gaze reluctantly. “We need to leave the dog here,” he announced.

  “No.” She glanced at Winston with heightened alarm. “Why?”

  “We can’t take him with us, Eryn. The agents will find him when they search the cabin. They’ll take good care of him.”

  “How do you know that? What if they don’t come? We can’t just leave him!” Tears scalded her eyes. “Please, Ike.”

  “Don’t ask me,” he retorted, looking away. “It’s not what I want. We have to cross the zip line. We have to rappel down a cliff. He can’t do all that.”

  “Why can’t we go a different way? You won’t even tell me where we’re going!” She stamped her foot on the floor, using it as an excuse to get her heel in her shoe.

  “I told you, somewhere safe.”

  “Details, Isaac!” she demanded.

  A hint of humor lit his shadowed gaze. “Okay. I have a friend who owns a vineyard twelve miles west of here. We’re walking there. Hopefully, he’ll give us a car so we can drive to Pennsylvania.”

  “Pennsylvania?” Her heart sank. “What’s in Pennsylvania?”

  �
��Cougar. He was supposed to take you in the first place.”

  “So you’re just going to pass me off to Cougar?” After what we shared?

  He swung a packed rucksack on his back. “Come on, it’s not like that,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

  “Then what’s it like?” She needed to hear something, anything to indicate that last night had meant as much to him as it had to her.

  “I have to get you away from here, that’s all,” he insisted. Setting his jaw, he went into the living room and reached under the sofa.

  Eryn sank weakly onto the edge of the bed, where she met Winston’s questioning gaze. A lump clogged her throat at the thought of leaving him. Attuned to her emotional state, he padded over.

  “Come on, boy,” Ike called from the door. “Let’s walk.”

  Winston looked back and forth between them, obviously torn, but the call of nature claimed victory, and he followed Ike outside.

  “Coward!” Eryn shouted, as Ike shut the door soundlessly behind him. Walking the dog was an excuse to avoid communicating.

  Blotting her tears with a starched sleeve, she looked around. She wondered if she would ever see the cabin again. She’d just started to like it here, especially when Ike went out of his way to heat her bathwater. The peaceful view had lulled her into a sense of security. She’d even forgotten from time to time that someone wanted her dead.

  With a sharp sniff, she pushed to her feet. Winston would hate being left behind, but she knew the agents, especially Jackson, would look after him. And Ike would have an easier time getting her out of the area undetected.

  For her father’s sake, she owed it to Ike to cooperate. And when the time came to part ways, she wouldn’t cling like a vine, either. She’d known from the start they had no future together.

  Ignoring the ache in her chest, she plodded to the bathroom to use the facilities. A glance in the mirror showed a pale-faced woman with uncertainty in her eyes, not at all how she’d looked hours earlier, anticipating making love with Ike.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Time to run, princess.” Ike swept the clearing with that all-seeing look that made Eryn’s stomach knot. Every tree, every leaf, every blade of grass was scrutinized and dismissed in under a millisecond. Finally, his eyes came to rest on Eryn as she hiked her purse onto her shoulder.

  She nodded. At least she wasn’t toting a rucksack that looked like it weighed sixty pounds.

  “Here, why don’t you give me that?” He slid his pack off his shoulders. “You’re going to need your arms free.”

  With a sigh and feeling guilty for adding to Ike’s burden, she watched him drop her purse on top of the assorted gear he’d collected for their exodus. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “Don’t be,” he said, swinging the pack back onto his shoulders. “I’ve carried more.”

  Winston’s frantic barks, merging with the scratching of his claws at the door, drew her attention back at the cabin behind them.

  Ike deliberately caught her eye. “He’ll be alright. Promise,” he added, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. “Come on, babe,” he urged. “You set the pace.”

  As with their previous runs, she tackled the steep incline with all she had. But her legs felt like rubber as she stumbled over the moist, uneven earth. A near-sleepless night gave her very little energy to call upon. She tried telling herself this was just another training run; that they’d be back to the cabin for a leisurely breakfast. Only, she knew it wasn’t, and they wouldn’t. They were running headlong into reality.

  She arrived at the tree line out of breath, more than glad to stop when Ike called, “Wait,” and veered suddenly off the path. He mounted a man-sized boulder.

  Watching him, she listened to the wind rustle the tender leaves on the trees. Ike pulled binoculars from his pack and peered out over the valley. He went suddenly still, his back stiffening.

  “What do you see?” she asked.

  He put the binoculars away and leapt lightly down beside her. “We might have company coming,” he admitted, avoiding her gaze. As if on cue, his watch began to beep. He silenced it with a push of his thumb.

  “The FBI?”

  He gave a nod. “You trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  “We need to move fast. No talking, no slowing down. No questioning my orders. Clear enough?”

  She swallowed hard. “Crystal.”

  He sent her a tiny crooked smile that alleviated her fear. Chucking her under the chin, he spun her around and gave her a push. “Now run!” he said.

  **

  The Taurus barely made it up the gravel driveway. Slipping sideways on a hairpin turn, Jackson was relieved to arrive at the cabin, at last. It looked far less sinister in the daylight than it had in the dark. He parked beside Calhoun’s Dodge Durango and killed the overheated engine.

  Calhoun was likely still here since his truck was here, Jackson reasoned, leaving his gun in the glove compartment. He wore a Kevlar vest under his dress shirt, just in case. But the ex-SEAL wouldn’t shoot an unarmed man; Jackson was counting on that.

  As he opened the car door, he was hit by a torrent of barking. He approached the cabin cautiously, his hands by his sides where Calhoun could see them. Aside from the dog, the only sound was that of birds twittering, the wind blowing. The area struck him as deserted, unthreatening. He hoped he hadn’t come too late.

  The planks on the porch groaned as he crossed them. He rapped firmly on the screen door. Winston scratched the inner door and whined.

  “Isaac Calhoun! This is Special Agent Maddox. I’d like to talk to you.” Jackson’s booming voice sounded ridiculous in the peaceful quiet.

  Getting no reply, he cracked the screen door and found the inner door unlocked. As he pushed it inward, Winston tried barreling past him, only Jackson caught him by his collar and muscled him back inside. He shut the door and looked around, noting details that had changed since the night before. A kitchen cabinet stood open. The smell of toast still hung in the air.

  Despairing that he’d come too late, he pushed into the bathroom, where he opened the cellar door and peered into the darkness, making sure that Eryn wasn’t down there. Of course, she wasn’t. Nor was there any evidence suggesting she’d been forced to stay there for any length of time.

  He went back upstairs, poked his head into the master bedroom. The unmade bed caught his eye. Twisted sheets and dented pillows suggested they had shared the bed, been intimate. Having pegged Eryn as the prim and proper type, it made him wonder if she’d known Calhoun prior to this week. That sure would have made it easier for the former SEAL to coax her from the safe house, would have given him an edge.

  Winston clawed at the exit, recapturing his attention. The dog’s desperation to get out made Jackson wonder if he knew where Ike and Eryn had gone. He hunted briefly for a leash. Finding nothing suitable, he gave up, deciding he would take his chances. “You know where they went, boy?” he asked, pulling the door open. “Show me.”

  Winston bolted out of the screen door with Jackson right behind him. The dog disappeared around the cabin. It was all Jackson could do to keep him in sight as the Shepherd mix hightailed it up the well-worn path that led to Calhoun’s southern boundary and Skyline Drive. It was exactly the route the FBI had expected him to take, if and when he fled. An HRT squad lay in wait on Skyline Drive.

  Torn between his commitment to duty and his lack of respect for his supervisor, Jackson considered whether to call his supervisor or blow him off. The Marine in him had him pulling out his phone as he ran.

  “Well, Rookie?” Caine prompted when he picked up.

  “Sir,” Jackson gasped for breath. “They’d already left the cabin by foot by the time I got here. I think they’re hiking up to Skyline Drive. I’m right behind them.”

  “I know where they are, Maddox. I’ve been tracking their movements for the last half hour.”

  What? Jackson’s gaze went to the dog’s red collar. Half hour? But he and Winston had only bee
n running for ten minutes, unless...unless the GPS device wasn’t even on the dog. Calhoun must have discovered it, in which case, he would use it as a decoy. Jackson felt a surge of relief.

  “You can fall back, Rookie. Obviously your plan didn’t pan out. We’ll leave it to HRT to get our client back.” Caine severed the call abruptly, sparing Jackson from having to tell him the truth.

  He dropped his phone back into his jacket pocket and kept right on running. One, he couldn’t leave Winston running off into the forest by himself. Two, he wanted to warn Calhoun about the HRT, convince him to surrender peacefully or face the consequences.