The Protector (25 page)

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 her. “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.