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?
“Let’s move.” He gestured downhill. “One more mile back to the cabin. Then we’ll eat breakfast.”
Taking off at an easy lope, he left her scrounging for the strength to hurry after him. At least gravity was on their side now.
As she chased his shadow, his chilling words echoed in her head. Stop and feel, and you’ll end up dead.
Was that what had happened to Ike? Had he learned to shut off his emotions to survive? That would explain why he rarely smiled; why he behaved like he was more machine than man.
Yet there was wisdom in his advice. God forbid she should come face to face with terrorists again, but if she did, thinking through her fear might be the only thing that saved her.
On the other hand, what was the point of living, if you could no longer feel?
Chapter Eight
Maybe training Eryn wasn’t such a good idea, Ike considered.
He was used to training men. There were no women on the SEAL Teams. He hadn’t had a woman enroll in his survival and security course yet, either. If he didn’t know better, he’d have guessed that the double X-chromosome interfered with accuracy. Eryn had fired twenty-five rounds at the plywood silhouette standing fifty feet away, and she still hadn’t hit it.
How could she be S
tanley’s daughter and be such a miserable shot? Jesus, at this rate, she’d need to cart around a cannon and be close enough to shake the enemy’s hand in order to shoot him!
Maybe if they’d gotten an earlier start today. But their four-course brunch, followed by a nap for Eryn, had taken up most of the morning. If she could shoot like she cooked they’d be in business, but obviously she couldn’t. The sky was starting to mellow, and the trees were casting long shadows, and she was still off by a country mile. “We’ll try again tomorrow,” he suggested.
“Are you thinking I can’t do this?” Eryn whirled to face him. As he ducked and broke right, she sheepishly pointed the Glock at the ground. “Sorry.” Her mouth drooped with defeat.
Determined to end things on a positive note, Ike heaved a sigh. Damn it, he was going to have to put his arms around her.
Easy, he ordered his libido as he drew her back around.
Her target was one of a dozen plywood silhouettes studding a clearing of wildflowers—an area known to his trainees as The Range. “Loosen up,” he said, feeling tension in her shoulders. “Let me see your grip.”
No wonder she kept missing. “That’s not what I showed you. Slide your right hand higher. Your forefinger needs to rest along the frame—like that, thumbs crossed. Now think of pushing with the right hand, pulling with the left. Got it?”
“I think so.”
“Go ahead and aim.” She smelled like peaches, with sunshine and woman thrown in to distract him. He tried holding his breath.
“Like this?”
What the hell was she aiming at? “Are you using the sights on the pistol?”
“I’m pointing at the target!”
Bracing himself for contact, he edged closer. “Remember your two sights. Keep your target in both of them, but your focus is on the V-post.”
“Oh.” Her tone made it clear she’d forgotten that part.
The nose of the gun wavered. Up. Down. Left. Right. Suddenly, she froze. “I’ve got it!”
“Hold it there.” He didn’t want her to miss. Gritting his teeth against the feel of her soft ass against his thighs, he moved closer till her back was molded to his front. Then he put his arms around her, cupping her hands to steady them. They were touching from shoulder to toe, and it felt like heaven.
“Breathe,” he said, as much to himself as to her, and she exhaled. “Now squeeze.”
Crack! The bullet ripped into the target. At the same time, the recoil pushed her up against him. It was all he could do to disguise his burgeoning erection.
“That’s a kill,” he said, backing away swiftly, but even five feet away, he could still feel her, smell her.
To his puzzlement, she just stared at the target with her shoulders slumped.
Ike edged around her to peek at her reaction, and her eyes, identical in color to the violets in the grass, shifted in his direction. “That made me think of Itzak,” she admitted sadly.
He was startled to find his hand in her hair, smoothing it where it bumped up over the ear muffs. “Think of the one who killed him next time,” he suggested, snatching his hand back. “Try again, by yourself this time.”
Giving her room, he watched her reconsider her target. As her face hardened and her eyes narrowed, he decided maybe she had some of Stanley in her, after all. Respect mingled with pity and roiled inside of him, heating to a furious boil. If it were up to him, the fuckers plotting her death would meet a premature and grisly end.
His gaze dropped to where the snug velour sweat suit clung to her amazing curves. Protecting her hadn’t proven all that rough. She hadn’t complained about the lack of creature comforts. She cooked; she kept the house neat. For the most part, she left him alone when she wasn’t trying to crawl into his head. He was starting to enjoy her company.
And that in itself was dangerous. He needed to minimize her effect on him, somehow. Maybe a trip to Elkton was in order. He could look for the RV he’d seen yesterday—ascertain that it wasn’t the FBI’s RV. He could stop in at the local pub and ask TJ if he’d seen any strangers in suits. Hook up with TJ’s sister for a quick coupling. That might just take the edge off his lust.
Only who would protect Eryn while he did all that? There wasn’t anyone he trusted to look after her. Bottom line, her safety mattered more than this hankering inside him.
Crack! Thunk! The sound of her bullet hitting its mark brought him sharply to the present.
“I did it!” She remembered to engage the safety before rushing at him with her arms out flung.
There was no avoiding her effusive embrace. “All by myself!” she cried, throwing her arms around him. Her soft breasts were crushed against his chest, her warm breath sighed against his neck. Her beautiful face seemed lit from the inside out, like a lantern.
He forced himself to study the target. “Nice job.” Fighting to keep his hands from palming her ass, he gently disengaged himself. “Do it two more times, and we’ll call it a day.”
**
The FBI interview with the Sheriff’s nephew took place at 9 P.M., just outside of the security office at Massanutten Resort. Children scrambled on the playground equipment lit up by halogen lamps. Fruit bats darted in the darkening sky. Dwayne Barnes, heavily bearded and built like a lumberjack, jumped out of his skin as the three agents surrounded him the minute he stepped from his place of work. The look of dread on his face told Jackson he’d been expecting this moment.
“Dwayne Barnes?” Caine flashed his badge. “Brad Caine, FBI. Special Agents Maddox and Ringo,” he added introducing his companions. “We’d like a word with you.” Caine gestured to the solitary RV parked on the far end of the lot, and Dwayne gave a reluctant nod.
Inside the Mobile Command Center, they handed him a Diet Coke, a Ho-Ho pastry, and kicked off the interview with the usual questions tailored to put the mountain man at ease, but he was so enamored with the amenities that came with the RV that he couldn’t stop staring at them.
“Ya’ll have two refrigerators,” he marveled.
“That’s a beverage bar,” Caine said shortly. “What can you tell us about Isaac Calhoun?”
Dwayne lowered his half-eaten snack cake. “Who? Oh, you mean, LT.”
Caine’s upper lip curled. “Still calls himself Lieutenant, does he?”
“Well, no. But folks call him that ‘cause of his military bearing.” Dwayne shrugged. “What do you want to know?”
“How do you know him?”
“Took ITC Survival and Security Training last fall.”
“What was that like?”
Dwayne shrugged. “Tough. Learned a lot. Got recertified.”
A sheaf of papers hit the table in front of him, making him jump.
“What’s this?” Dwayne frowned down at the first page. “Why’s my name on this?”
“This is the Class 1 misdemeanor you were charged with several years back, Mr. Barnes,” said Caine. “The one your uncle kept secret from your employer? I wonder how they’d react to learning that you lied to them all this time. You think they’d let you keep your job here?”
Dwayne Barnes visibly swallowed.
“You wouldn’t want them knowing you grew and sold your own marijuana, would you?”
A long moment passed before the man finally buckled. “No, sir.”
“That’s the spirit,” Caine continued. “Now, why don’t you start by telling us everything you know about LT?”
Two hours later, they sent the mountain man on his way. While Caine disappeared into the sound room to update their supervisor at the Washington Field Office, Jackson mulled over the information Dwayne had shared with them. None of it made Ike Calhoun look like a man you wanted to tangle with. When Caine finally emerged, Jackson took one look at the smirk on his face and his stomach fell.
“The SAC says we need to take her back,” the supervisor announced, cheerily. “He doesn’t think our client is safe with this former sniper, and neither do I.”
“Sir,” Jackson protested, “
there’s nothing in Calhoun’s record to suggest he’s a menace.”
“You’re wrong, Rookie. There’s a reason his men wound up dead on that mountain in Afghanistan. The circumstances are all hush, hush, but the rumor is he got them all killed.”
“Since when do we base our decisions on rumor?” Jackson asked, his temperature rising.
“Look at the facts, Maddox.” Caine’s syllables grew clipped. “The man is a trained killer. He’s offed eighteen terrorists and, according to Dwayne Barnes, he has enough weapons on his property to start World War Three. That, in my opinion, makes him dangerous.”
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