The Protector (21 page)

Dropping his face into his hands, Ike rubbed his gritty eyes. Aw, hell, he needed to explain this to
Eryn
so she didn’t keep pushing the issue.
 

He put it off as long as possible, tidying the kitchen until it gleamed. She had left a mess intentionally, he realized, amused by her subtle punishment.
 
When there was no more putting it off, he turned toward the stairs, hoping to find her fast asleep.

Her scent ambushed him halfway up the steps, undermining his noble intentions. Over the groaning of the risers, he heard the sound of a page being turned. She was reading, he realized, peeking through the half-open doorway.

He drew back with a start.
Eryn
lay on her stomach across the bed, wearing nothing but that strappy top she’d worn the other night and white lace panties. Oh, fuck.
 

At his quick retreat, the floorboards squeaked, and she shrieked, fumbling to cover herself. He hovered in the hallway, torn between the common-sense urge to run like hell and his determination to set the record straight once and for all.
 

“Okay,
it’s
safe,” she called, her voice wobbling.

Safe, right.
He peered around the door frame, staying right where he was. She had wrapped the sheet around her like a toga, but the tops of her shoulders and most of her legs were still bare.

“It gets hot up here,” she said with a proud lift to her chin.
 

No kidding.
“You could open the window,” he suggested.

“I’ve tried. It’s stuck.”

Her answer left him no choice but to wade into the room to un-stick the window. Chill, moist
air wafted in as he jimmied it open
, cooling his scalding mental image of
Eryn
laying across her bed practically naked.

By the time he turned around, she had pulled the sheet over her shoulders.
Smart girl
.
“Came to apologize,” he said, edging toward the exit.

“For what?”

Why did women do this? “I was out of line today,” he added.
Obviously.

“Which part?”
 

Damn it. “
Eryn
, you’re not…” He cut himself off, afraid that he would either offend her somehow or make himself sound depraved.

For a change, she kept absolutely mute as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. “Look, I’m not going to betray your father’s trust,” he finally ground out, deciding that was the safest excuse handy. “He trusts me to watch over you, not—”
fuck your brains out.

“Take advantage of me?” she delicately supplied.
   

“Exactly.”
He jammed his fingers into his pockets to disguise his erection.
  

A crooked little smile seized her lips, making his pulse quicken. “I get it,” she told him, blushing prettily. “You don’t have to beat yourself up, Ike. If it’s any consolation, I’m not opposed to being...taken advantage of.” Her voice trailed to a husky whisper as her lashes swept downward concealing her gaze.

Not helping.
 

Swear to God, all she had to do right now was to drop the sheet, and he’d be across the room burying his face between her thighs.

Calling on his last ounce of restraint, Ike turned briskly toward the stairs. “Shut the window if it rains again,” he called, fleeing from the temptation she embodied.
 

“Sleep tight,” she sang out.

He pushed into his room and firmly shut the door.
Sleep tight?
Right.
She had to know she had him too worked up to sleep. Besides, he couldn’t afford to sleep, not when he had some serious planning to do.

Turning his lock against the desire to return to her, he spread an oil-stained towel over his dresser top. He then set out the lubricant and cloth needed to clean his sniper rifle. For the next hour, he’d lose himself in mindless routine.

If the Feds made a move tonight, at least he wouldn’t be caught with his pants down.
Some comfort that was.
 

Eryn
collapsed onto the mattress, half euphoric, half chagrined. What on earth had compelled her to say those
words,
I’m not opposed to being taken advantage of?
 

She covered her hot face with her hands. Had she known what she was saying? It wasn’t like her to be so forward.
 

But how else was she going to get to know Ike when he refused to talk to her? And she just had to get to know him better. His kiss had shot roots of curiosity deep into the soils of her mind.
 

The real Ike was lonely and despairing. He needed her.
 

Yet there was no way to comfort him if he didn’t let her in. And letting her in clearly terrified him.
That line about not betraying her father’s trust—hogwash.
 
It was fear that held him back. She could see it so clearly now. He was afraid of her; afraid of intimacy, period.

That was why he lived in this crumbling cottage, in deep seclusion!

Poor man.
A picture of what he used to look like flashed before her eyes. What had happened to the confident warrior her father had so loved?

It could only be the incident her father had mentioned, the one she couldn’t remember, except the part about lives being lost.
Friends of Ike’s
most likely. He blamed himself. He’d quit the military because he felt he’d let them down. For a man who took his duties seriously, their deaths would have been a crushing blow. That had to have been what happened. And until he discussed the past with someone else, the guilt would fester in him, like a tumor.

But who was she to force him to talk? And what made her think she could play counselor when she’d never experienced that depth of guilt and grief herself?

It’s
better I don’t try,
she told herself, with a sigh of disappointment.
   

She and Ike were two very different people; it wasn’t like their futures were likely to bring them together again. Having tried the impractical route back in college, she’d long ago decided not to waste her time on bachelors without promise. She was holding out for Mr. Right.

And Ike was so not that guy.

Seeing rain splatter the window sill, she rolled out of bed, dragging the sheet behind her to close the draft and shut off the light.

As she sprawled back across the lumpy mattress in the dark, the memory of Ike’s hard body had her touching herself. Pleasure gripped her as she envisioned his rough hands on her breasts, relived the thrill of his tongue tangling with hers.
Oh, Ike.
She moaned, arching toward her fingers in an effort to appease the ache pulsing inside her.

But her decision to leave Ike alone made her sudden climax an unfulfilling one.

She wanted more. She wanted all of him, every mysterious, tortured part of him. But that desire was impractical, if not impossible. The man would barely even talk to her, let alone share his life with her. Practicality won the day, whether she wanted it to, or not.

Chapter Ten

“I have information for you,” Mustafa said, calling the number on the narrow scrap of paper. To his disappointment, he recognized the voice on the other end as belonging to the same young man who’d approached him at the hotel.

And to his further disappointment, it was Vengeance who entered the McDonald’s on Connecticut Avenue half an hour later, where they had arranged to meet. Two FBI agents sat in a dark blue Buick parked across the street, listening to the conversation via Mustafa’s Blackberry.

The McDonald’s, which stood across from the National Zoo, stayed open until midnight, one hour from now. Aside from the two employees tidying up in back, Mustafa and Vengeance had the dining area to themselves.

Once small talk was out of the way, Mustafa slid an envelope across the table. The boy picked it up, opened it, and read the address written inside.

“She is here?” he asked incredulously, “in D.C.?”

“Yes. The house belongs to a friend of her father’s, an old Marine colonel,” Mustafa explained, relating what he’d been told to say.
 

The boy’s brow furrowed. “Why isn’t she better protected? Doesn’t the FBI take us seriously?” His grip tightened on the square of paper.
   

Who
is
us? Mustafa wondered. Was it the Taliban? Al Qaeda? “She’s no longer under the protection of the FBI,” he lied. “Her father dismissed them. He thinks he knows better how to keep her safe.”
   

“He thinks he is indestructible,” Vengeance concluded with a sneer. “We will bring him to his knees.”

“Yes,” Mustafa agreed. “But...who else is involved? Can they be trusted?” he asked, feigning concern.

The boy became guarded. “It is not safe for you to know,” he said, putting the note back inside the envelope and pocketing it. He came abruptly to his feet and inclined his head. “Thank you.” Without a backward glance, he headed for the exit.
 

Mustafa remained in his seat. No sooner had the door closed behind Vengeance than he heard an engine turn over. He wondered if the agents would detain and question the youth. Probably not, for that would undermine the trap they were trying to set.

Let it work, Mustafa prayed, swallowing his last sip of coffee.

**

Ike’s eyes abruptly opened. He had stretched out on his neatly made bed with the intent of catching just enough shut-eye to keep his reflexes sharp. He must have slept longer than he’d intended, for the driving rain that had lulled him to sleep had abated. Moonlight now shone through the cracks of his lowered blind.

Checking his watch to see what time it was, he found it flashing, and he jerked upright. Images had been forwarded from the cameras guarding his property to his laptop, meaning someone was near his invisible fence.
 

Oh, hell, not the FBI!

Slipping out of bed and into the chair at his desk, he opened his MacBook Pro and logged on. A total of twelve image files awaited his perusal.

A cold sweat formed on the small of his back as he studied each image. For the past couple of hours, three men in dark pants and windbreakers had followed his property line along the northwest boundary, but never crossing onto his land. They were reconnoitering. A steep cliff finally forced them to retrace their footsteps and leave.
 

Didn’t they know he could see them? Hadn’t Dwayne told them all about his high tech security system? And what were they looking
for—a
vulnerability? They wouldn’t find one.

Ike leaned back in his chair. What to do?
he
wondered.

The creaking of treads jerked his attention to his door. By the sound of it,
Eryn
was also up and moving down the stairs. With a stab of his finger he put his laptop into hibernation and closed it, plunging his room into moonlit darkness.

Memories of how she’d looked tonight, stretched across her bed in her undergarments, sent tongues of desire licking over him. He remained glued to his seat, wondering what the hell she was up to. If she knew what was good for her, she’d go right back upstairs.