The Protector (20 page)

An unpredictable breeze played havoc with her hair as she pushed the door open. Dark clouds surged across the valley toward them, bearing the scent of rain. Hovering on the top porch step,
Eryn
watched Winston heed Ike’s every command with no more reward than a pat on the head. “Wow,” she murmured, impressed by Ike’s accomplishment.
    

But then he offered Winston a stick from the log pile, and she frowned.
What’s this?
 

“Sic,” he said, urging the dog to bite it. “Good boy,” he added when the dog growled.
  

Eryn’s
puzzlement deepened. It wasn’t till Ike tossed aside the stick and started wrapping a towel around his forearm that she realized his intent.
Oh, no.

“Sic,” he said again, offering the dog his arm.

“He’s not going to bite you,” she called out, betraying her presence.

Ike visibly stiffened, but he kept his back to her, not acknowledging her comment.
 

Who did he think he was, teaching her docile Shepherd mix to bite?
   

“Winston, sic,” he repeated, thrusting his arm in the dog’s face.
  

Winston barked. His blond coat shimmered in the uncertain light as he backed away.

“Stop it!”
Eryn
demanded.

“Sic.”
 

The dog barked again. He turned in a circle, chasing his tail, but he wouldn’t attack Ike’s arm.

“You’re upsetting him,” she cried, leaping off the porch to intervene.
 

Ike’s head swiveled. His green gaze singed her as he took in her approach. The memory of their kiss seemed to thicken the air around them—or maybe it was ozone from the approaching storm.

“Come stand right here,” he said, crooking a finger at her.
 

She approached him warily.
 
“Why?”

“You’re going help me. When I grab your wrist, I want you to scream and struggle.” He squared off against her.

“Uh…” She wanted no part in training Winston to be aggressive, but the prospect of Ike touching her caused her to waver.

“Play on his protective urges,” he added, mistaking her hesitation for agreement. “Then maybe his Shepherd instincts will kick in.”

“It still won’t work,” she insisted. In his heart of hearts, Winston was all
Retriever
.

Fast as a trap, Ike caught her wrist, his grip like a shackle.

“Okay, that actually hurts,” she admitted, somewhat surprised. The clouds surged ever nearer, emitting ominous rolls of thunder.
 

“Struggle,” he said, loosening his grip at once.

It was still unbreakable. This wasn’t nearly as pleasant as the kiss they’d shared.
Eryn
tried peeling back his fingers with her free hand, but it was useless. “Okay, please let go; you’re wasting your time.”

Ike held her fast. “Tell him to sic.” She could tell by the look on his face he wasn’t going to release her till she did it.

Stubborn man.
“It’s not going to work!”

“Do it.”

“Winston, sic!” she raged, clenching her fists.

The dog just looked at her, obviously confused.

With a stifled curse, Ike dropped her arm and stalked away, dragging a hand through the spikes of his hair.
 

“What did you expect? I told you he wouldn’t attack,” she scolded.
 

He threw his hands up. “Why didn’t Stanley teach you to defend yourself?” he railed. “I can’t believe you’re so goddamn helpless.”
 

The accusation stung. “I am not helpless. Don’t discount me like that!”

He folded his arms and considered her as he might an unsolvable problem.
  

“Here, I’ll prove it,” she added, hunting for a weapon. Spying the stick Ike had used earlier, she snatched it up and wielded it like a bat. “Try grabbing me now,” she invited.

“Put it down.” Ike’s voice came out low and flat.

“I don’t think so. Earlier in the truck you called me dangerous. Now you say I’m helpless. Which is it, Isaac? You can’t have both.”

He had her angry now, and it wasn’t because he was training her dog to be aggressive—not really. It was because she could sense the distance he kept putting between them. He couldn’t make it any clearer that he considered that kiss a mistake, but it wasn’t. At least when he kissed, he communicated
something!

“You’ll end up with a splinter. That’s not the way to hold it,” he bit out.
   

“Then teach me how to fight,” she demanded.
 

“No.”
    

“Why not?
You taught me to shoot.”
 

He narrowed his eyes, saying nothing.

“You know what I think? I think you’re afraid of me, Isaac.” She tossed out the accusation with unaccustomed recklessness. But she needed to rattle his cage a little, to goad him into letting his guard down so she could kiss him this time. “You’re afraid you’ll kiss me, and you won’t be able to stop,” she added, with sudden insight.
 

His answer was a short, bitter laugh, but he didn’t deny it, she noticed with a private thrill. “You teach defense in your survival course, don’t you?” She pressed what she sensed was her advantage.

“To men,” he retorted.
 

“What’s the difference?”

His gaze flicked to her breasts and lower. “There are a couple differences.”

The bold inference flustered her. She knew she was playing with fire but she couldn’t seem to help herself. “And why would those prevent me from learning to defend myself?”

A muscle in the side of his jaw jumped. “You going to use that stick?” he asked her softly, “or just stand there running your mouth?”

Bingo. With a smirk of triumph, she rushed at him while swinging the stick at his butt. That’ll teach him.

Except the stick never made contact with his backside. In a move too quick to see, he grabbed her weapon, whipped her around, and pulled her back to front against his larger frame.
 

“This isn’t a game,
Eryn
,” he grated in her ear. She could feel his heart pounding against her back. The stick, placed like a bar against her shoulders, kept her pinned against him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your distance, understand?” The hard ridge under his zipper was as much a threat as his words.

If he was trying to intimidate her, he was succeeding. She didn’t know if her knees trembled from fear, chagrin at being told off for pushing too far, or because she felt the substantive proof that he could ravish her right here, right now, with or without her participation. “I—I understand,” she said.

He released her wordlessly and stepped back, hurling the stick toward the woodpile, apparently furious with himself.

Eryn
fled for the porch. A backward glance saw him striding across the darkening yard to the long rope dangling from the oak tree. Pausing again at the door, she saw him pull himself, hand over hand, up the length of the rope, his feet dangling. He disappeared into what looked like a tree house.
 

Rain began to pelt the yard. Winston streaked past her, up the steps, toward shelter.
Eryn
followed him inside, leaving Ike outside to weather the storm.

She went straight to the bathroom, flicked on the light and studied her flushed face in the mirror.

What are you doing,
Eryn
?

Her reflection provided no answers. It wasn’t her style to taunt a man into losing control, especially not one as dangerous and battle-hardened as Ike, but some small voice insisted that he needed her to force him out of his protective shell. The hunger revealed in his kiss today—the volatility he’d just warned her about—sparked an unexpected yearning to soothe him.

She was crazy to consider it. The man had been a sniper; he was a recluse with a murky, tortured past.

And yet her father trusted him with her keeping. That said something, didn’t it?

Forget about him,
she advised herself.
Eat your dinner, read a book, and go to bed.

As long as Ike kept to himself, then he deserved to wallow in his isolation. Who was she to force him to deal with his issues?

Cutting herself a portion of shepherd’s pie, she ate it standing up, fighting all the while to keep her gaze from sliding to the window, where the sky had darkened to black. Occasionally, jags of lightning lit up the yard as bright as day, revealing snapshots of Ike, stripped to his jeans, punishing himself with push-ups and pull-ups and those drills called burpees.
 

He’d rather be struck by lightning than spend time alone with me.

Feeling like a cat with its fur rubbed wrong,
Eryn
dumped her plate in the sink without washing it. She’d agreed to cook for him, but he could damn well do the dishes.

Snatching up her book, she stormed upstairs to bed.

Ike took an ice-cold shower. It did as little to abate his craving for
Eryn
as exercise had. He’d driven his body to the brink of exhaustion, to no avail.
 

Eating his supper all alone, he moaned aloud as the buttery crust, creamy vegetables, and seasoned beef melted in his mouth. He would have gone for a second helping, only the silence overhead, coupled with his concerns about the FBI, had whittled away his appetite.

He caught himself listening for her upstairs. Was she sleeping? Reading? Christ, he hoped she wasn’t crying. He cringed to recall how harshly he’d dealt with her.

It wasn’t her fault he’d lost his mind and kissed her today. He had no excuse, only that he’d wanted to lock lips with her from the moment she touched her tongue to her upper lip the day he’d grabbed her at the safe house. She had to know by now that she had that effect on men.
 

You’re afraid you’ll kiss me, and you won’t be able to stop.
Damn right, he was. But why wasn’t she?
 

He could only suppose her desperate circumstances had skewed with her judgment. He supposed it was only natural for a girl in her predicament to be drawn to the one man who could defend her. With him, she could forget she was being hunted by terrorists.

But if there
were
no terrorists, the story would be different, wouldn’t it?

If she weren’t running scared, he’d be the last man she would want comforting her. He was a rough and ready soldier, a man who’d abandoned his teammates when they needed him most; a man who hadn’t called his mother in a decade. He had no business even looking at her.
  

She was vulnerable right now. If he took advantage of that, what would that make him? Plus one time would never be enough. He would want her for as long as she could stand him—which wouldn’t be for very long, he acknowledged with bitterness. Sooner or later, he would come up short, unable to give her the stability she was used to.
 

His life had gone to shit the day he’d watched his teammates die, knowing all the while that he could have prevented it.