The Protector (15 page)

She cringed to see a silhouette looming over her. But then she made out just enough of Ike’s face in the starlight to recognize him. “Oh, it’s you.” She fell limply back against the pillow.
  

“Time to start your training.”

Relief turned into denial. “I just fell asleep,” she protested, snuggling deeper into her bedding.

He tugged down the sheet and blanket without warning, exposing her to the now-cold air in the attic.
 

Eryn
shrieked. She had stripped down to nearly nothing when the attic had felt like a furnace several hours ago.
 

Ike sprang back. “Get dressed,” he ordered, his tone telling her he’d seen plenty of pale skin, despite the dark.
“Sweats, T-shirt, and running shoes.”
He backed toward the stairs.
  

“All I have is my Skechers,” she called, rubbing her sticky eyelids. “And why are we shooting in the dark?”
 

“First we train,
then
we shoot,” he said over his shoulder.

“Train for what?” She hadn’t signed up for this.
 

“For the worst,” she thought she heard him say as he melted out of sight. “Keep the lights off.”

Clutching the blanket to her body, she considered what the worst meant. To her, it meant her dream, still so fresh in her memory, becoming real.

God forbid she would ever come face to face with Itzak’s killer, who wanted to decapitate her. But better to be armed than defenseless. Rolling out of the bed, she felt in the dark for her new, pink velour sweat suit.
 

Five minutes later, she joined Ike downstairs, finding him at the kitchen table wearing what looked, in the dark, to be an Army-green hoodie.
 

“Why no light?” she whispered.
 

“Light betrays you to the enemy.”
  

She had never actually thought of that. To Ike it was probably second nature.
   

“Eat and let’s go,” he said, handing her a power bar like the one he’d given her the night before.

With no appetite to speak of, she choked it down.

Ike stood up abruptly. “Ready?”

“I guess.” It was hard to whip up her enthusiasm.
 

Cold air enveloped her as she followed him through the door and off the porch. Shuddering, she drew hood of her jacket over her ears and knotted the pulls.

A hint of buttery sunlight edged the adjacent mountaintops, but the sky was still an indigo sea sparkling with stars. Down in the dark valley, a rooster crowed. Only farmers and newspaper delivery boys had any business being up at this hour.

And soldiers training for the worst, she amended with a shudder.

“Warm up.” Ike turned beneath the tree and started doing jumping jacks.

Eryn
followed his example, her breath forming a cloudy vapor before her. They did fifty jumping jacks then something Ike called burpees, which entailed dropping to the damp ground and jumping up again, keeping her feet together. Then they stretched their quads and hamstrings.
 

“All set?” He straightened abruptly.

“All set for what?” she asked, mentally counting back to her last workout at the gym.
 

“Running.”

She didn’t care for the word running. Jogging was more her style.
 

“Follow me,” he said, taking off.
  

Crap!
Eryn
hurried after him. His dark form blended instantly with the vegetation growing up behind the cabin. She found herself on a path that formed a dim tunnel through the woods.

Whatever you do, don’t twist an ankle,
she cautioned herself, promptly stubbing her toe on a rock.

They were running uphill on a rugged, rain-eroded trail. Her calves and ankles immediately protested. Her lungs strained. But she refused to be a victim, running scared. If she wanted her life back, she would need to learn a lot from Ike.

With renewed vigor, she pushed herself to catch up with him. Her breath sawed in the backwoods stillness. The scent of sap and minerals filled her nostrils. Her fingers, ears and nose stung from the cold, but she managed to close the gap between them.

At last the path leveled off, and she fell into a rhythm she felt she could sustain. As they wound through the hickory and chestnut trees, the sun began to rise, shooting golden beams through the forest, illumining the tree trunks yellowed with lichen. A woodpecker hammered out a hollow-sounding percussion, while warblers and goldfinches darted through the undergrowth in search of grubs. If her body didn’t hurt so darn much, she might actually enjoy this quality time with Mother Nature.

She saw Ike glance back and increased her speed to impress him. She realized she could scarcely hear him over the sound of rushing water, which grew louder with every step. Ike slowed down, and she joined him, gasping for breath, at the lip of a ravine, where, over the centuries, melting snows had carved a deep, rocky gorge. Water gushed through it, crashing and swilling in its haste to get down the mountain.

“Naked Creek,” he announced, looking and sounding rested.

“Pretty.” Dabbing her runny nose with a sleeve, she squeezed the stitch in her side, praying they would rest awhile before turning back.
  

“We’re going to cross,” he said.

Eryn’s
eyes flew wide. The climb down to the water looked deadly. “How?” she squeaked.

“Zip line.” He stepped over to a tree.

As he reached up to crank a pulley, she spied a thick wire strung from one side of the gorge to the next, camouflaged by the silvery sky.

Making its way toward them was a device that looked like a set of handlebars with a bungee cord dangling from the center and a belt attached to the bungee cord.
“Oh, no.
I’m not going on that.” She edged away from him. “Let’s just run back.”

“Sure, you are,” he said, grabbing the handles and pulling them closer. “Over here.” He gestured with his head.
 

She held her ground. “What’s any of this got to do with learning how to shoot?” she demanded.

“Everything.”
He reached out and caught her elbow, pulling her closer. Holding her gaze with a burning look he added, “You think shooting is about pulling a trigger and hitting a target?” His warm breath fanned her cheek. “It’s not. It’s about learning to separate yourself from something that scares you shitless. You want to shoot? First you have to learn to think through your fear.”
  

She’d never heard him say so much at once, in a voice that was rough and cynical and made her prickle all over. “Okay,” she conceded with her heart pounding, “but only if you come with me.”

His eyes narrowed. He inclined his head in agreement. “Okay.”

“Hold me tight,” she added, as he guided her into position under the bars. Ike would never let her plunge into deadly rapids, she assured herself.

“Hands here and here.”
He placed her hands where he wanted them. The bar felt cold beneath her aching fingers; his body blessedly warm, as he took up position directly behind her. She had to resist the urge to lean against him, to draw reassurance from his strength.

As she measured the distance to the other side of the ravine, her knees began to knock, her arms to tingle. She felt him loop the broad leather belt around her waist, and her heart began to hammer.
 

“Once you’re airborne, lift your feet out in front of you. That’ll keep you moving,” he instructed, backing them up.

She could hardly breathe.

“When you reach the other side, you’ll hit a stop. Let go and jump to the ground. Take the belt off.”

“I thought you were coming with me!” she cried with sudden panic.
  

“Right behind you,” he amended. “Ready? Run!” He didn’t give her the chance to decipher whether she was in this alone or not before he pushed the handlebars into a running glide.

The next thing
Eryn
knew, the land under her feet was gone, and she was gliding through thin air, all alone.
 

A squeal of terror erupted from her throat. She glanced down at the deadly rush of water and sharp rocks. Fear sucked the strength from her grip. Her momentum slowed; her fingers started to slip on the handlebars. She would never make it to the other side.

“Feet up!” Ike shouted, his voice echoing in the gorge.

“I hate you!” she yelled back, lifting her feet and regaining her speed. Trees and rocks rushed toward her. Then, suddenly, she was sailing over solid ground. She hit a stop, and remembering his instructions, let go of the bar. Landing on shaky knees, she unfurled her cramped fingers and glared over her shoulder at him.

Ike stood on the opposite side with his arms crossed, wearing a crooked smile. “You did
good
,” he called.
 

“
Well,
” she muttered, correcting his grammar. With her entire body quaking, she fumbled to release the belt around her middle and realized it would have kept her from falling, even if she had let go.

As Ike drew the bar back to his side, her emotions seesawed between euphoria and outrage. She had done it! But he had lied to her! How was she supposed to trust a man who didn’t keep his word?

As she watched Ike glide effortlessly toward her, her anger heated to a boil. He dropped to the ground while the bar was still moving, released the belt and approached her warily.
 
“You want to hit me, go ahead,” he offered.
 

Eryn’s
chin went up. “I don’t believe in violence,” she retorted.
 
    

“Yeah, you do.”

He was right, damn him. She wouldn’t be subjecting herself to this kind of training if she didn’t believe in fighting back. Without a hint of forewarning, she drew back her foot and kicked him in the shin.

“Ow!” With an incredulous laugh, he bent over to rub his injured leg.
 

“You lied to me!” she raged, annoyed by his amusement, though his rusty laugh was music to her ears.
 

“Not technically.”
  

She made to kick him again, only this time he caught her heel, causing her to lose her balance. As she toppled over, he seized her arm and pulled her upright. She felt like a doll in his hands, a feeling that both thrilled and annoyed her.

He kept hold of her. “Look,” he said, his touch disturbingly warm, even through the sleeve of her sweatshirt, “you did something you didn’t think you could do, right?”

“I suppose.”

“That’s the first step to overcoming fear.” His gaze slid intently toward her mouth.

“So the end justifies the means.” Her voice sounded huskier than usual. Her blood warmed with the expectation that he would try to kiss her.

“Exactly,” he said, releasing her, instead.

Disappointed, she just stared. Did she want him to kiss her?
  

“You want to survive, you conquer your fear,” he added tersely. “Stop and feel, and you’ll end up dead.”

Not again. Here she was trying to establish a rapport with him, and he was picturing her dead. When would she learn?