The Protector (26 page)

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.

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.
 

But then the door swung open revealing
Eryn’s
hourglass figure, cast into silhouette by the light behind her, and there was no mistaking her nudity, with the exception of the barely-there, black panties on her hips. Ike’s heart suspended its beat.
  

Thank you, Jesus.
She hadn’t changed her mind. If anything, her state of undress sent a very clear message:
 
She wanted all of him.
 

Ike set aside his laptop, keeping it open just in case. Thoughts of packing up and shipping out flew from his mind. He was in no hurry to go anywhere. Not with
Eryn
standing in front of him like a virgin sacrifice, offering him more than any mortal man deserved.

He rolled slowly to his feet, his body strangely weighted. “You don’t have to do this,
Eryn
,” he felt it only fair to warn her. What if he hurt her? What if her father found out? How would he ever look Stanley in the eye again?

Her answer was to float toward him and slip her arms around him. The feel of her naked breasts through the material of his sweater made him groan.

“I know I don’t have to.” Her eyes were translucent in the shadows as she tipped her face toward his. “But I want to, Ike, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
 

Christ, she knew exactly what to say, not only to reassure him but to arouse him. She wanted to make love to him. It was nothing short of wondrous. Gathering her soft curves in his rough hands, he felt like he’d been given a rare and amazing gift. Afraid that she might evaporate into thin air or disintegrate like a dream, he lowered his head and kissed her cautiously.
  

Deep inside, he could feel himself trembling. He knew what he was, what he had to offer—which was nothing. But he could no more push her away than he could stop his own heart from beating. Besides, there was one thing that he could give her—more pleasure than she had ever known or would ever know again.

Sweeping back the long locks of hair that covered her torso, he beheld her naked breasts for the first time. They were everything he’d imagined—full and high and tipped with berry-like nipples that made his mouth water. Drawn to them at once, he ducked his head and ravished the velvety nubbins with as much restraint as he could manage.
   

For a night that had promised to end badly, this one was turning out to be the best goddamn night of his life.
 

Chapter Twelve

“Jesus Christ.” The shock in
Caine’s
voice brought Jackson fully awake. He’d been nodding off in the back of the Taurus on the return ride from Skyline Drive to Elkton Motel.
 

“What wrong?”
Ringo
asked, tearing his gaze from the steep, winding highway illumined by their headlights.
 

Caine
lowered his cell phone to share the news. “Our asset was murdered,” he told them, grimly. “His throat was slit, just like Pedro’s.”

Holy shit, thought Jackson, swiping a hand over his stinging eyes.

“The perp was still on the scene when our agents answered Mustafa’s summons, but he jumped out the window and escaped. Lucky for us, he left his blood all over the holly bushes. They’re running his DNA right now.”

“Was it Shahbaz Wahidi?”
Ringo
asked.

“No. They brought Wahidi in for questioning, hoping he’d spill something, but he has an air-tight alibi. We’ve intercepted all his emails, monitored his phone calls, and nothing. He doesn’t seem to be in contact with anyone.”

The news drove the fog from Jackson’s head, leaving his thoughts sharper. He was becoming more and more convinced that Shahbaz—and
Itzak
before him—were red herrings, employed by the real terrorist to divert suspicion from himself onto the Brotherhood.
 

As he mulled over ways to prove it, he overheard
Caine
update their supervisor on the failed attempt to wrest
Eryn
from Calhoun’s cabin. He made a point of mentioning how the ex-SEAL’s cellar was packed with ammunition and that he’d fired his rifle at Jackson, driving him away.

“That’s right, sir.
Yes, sir.”
Caine’s
tone grew smug.
“My thoughts exactly.
We’ll need at least fifty HRT members to surround his property, plus a helicopter. The sooner they get here, the better.”
 

Jackson couldn’t believe what he was hearing. They were planning to utilize the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team. “You can’t be serious,” he exclaimed the instant
Caine
pulled his phone from his ear.
 

“I’m as serious as a heart attack, Rookie.”
  

“Come on, sir. We haven’t even established dialogue with the man,” Jackson argued.
 

“You want to reason with him?”
Caine’s
eyes glinted as he twisted in his seat to glare back at him. “He fucking tried to shoot you.”

“He aimed well above my head,” Jackson insisted, though at the time, the bullet had felt pretty damn close.

“He has a smear on his military record, not to mention enough weaponry in his basement to start a revolution. You saw it for yourself.”

The so-called smear on Calhoun’s record was nothing more than a case of extremely bad luck. “The man needs the weapons for the business he operates. Look, can’t we at least give him a chance to do the right thing?”

“You said it yourself, Maddox. He’s not going to just hand her over.”
 

“Maybe if he knows the consequences.”
  

“Fine,”
Caine
gave in unexpectedly. “You want to talk to Calhoun, go right ahead. As soon as it’s daylight, take the Taurus and go. I’ll give you till noon to bring him in.”

Was he serious?

Ringo
drove them off the highway into Elkton Motel’s parking lot where he double-parked by the RV and killed the motor. The motel’s neon sign buzzed in the sudden silence. Jackson queried the wisdom of setting off Calhoun’s alarm and barreling up his steep gravel driveway unannounced.

“What’s the matter, Maddox?”
Caine
taunted. “Change your mind?” He pushed his door open, stepping out.
Ringo
did likewise.