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up—”
     
    The click in Ike’s ear sounded like a gun shot. Flinching, he hurled the cheap phone across the length of the barn into a bayberry bush.  
     
    Sonofabitch!
     
    Scraping his fingers through the silver spikes of his hair, he glared at his Durango and grimaced. Now what? He couldn’t just leave Eryn on the side of a country road. But taking her to his refuge was unthinkable.
     
    The place was a dump, which was fine for him. He’d wanted seclusion, not some ritzy resort up in the mountains. After three years in Afghanistan, his cabin was a big step up. Blue eyes, on the other hand, had probably never roughed it in her life.  
     
    Damn it, the last thing he needed was some beautiful, untouchable female underfoot. Keep her? What the hell was Stanley thinking?
     
     
     
    Roused by a wet nose, Eryn awoke with a start. The events of the morning came rushing back to her. Her leaping heart subsided as she realized she was still safe in the Durango, only it had been parked by an old barn, set some distance from a country road. The breeze wafting through the cracked window smelled of hay. Winston whined, asking to be let out.
     
    Where was Ike Calhoun?
     
    Twisting in her seat, she searched the area frantically. There he was, standing in the shadow of the barn, raking a hand through his hair. Relief morphed into uncertainty as she beheld his rigid stance. Every line of his densely muscled body screamed frustration.  
     
    Why had they stopped here, and why did he look so irate? They’d made it safely out of Silver Spring. They hadn’t been followed as far as she could tell, yet anger seemed to roll off him as he stalked toward the Durango with a menacing scowl.
     
    Eryn held her breath. He didn’t look much like her savior now. Shrinking against the door, she clutched her dog’s collar as Ike raised the cargo hatch. Seeing her awake, he wiped all expression off his face. “Dog needs a walk,” he said shortly, scooping up the rope still attached to Winston’s collar and giving it a tug.
     
    “What about me?” Eryn asked, wishing she didn’t sound so scared.
     
    “You stay put,” he said, slamming the hatch shut behind him.  
     
    Stay put? The dog was being afforded a walk, so why not her?  
     
    Shivering with uncertainty, she waited anxious minutes for them to return. At last, Ike shut Winston into the back again and slid behind the wheel. As he donned his seatbelt, she scrounged up the courage to ask him what was next.
     
    He gunned the engine, shooting back onto the country road, driving like the hounds of hell had given chase. “Um, where are you taking me?” she called.   
     
    His grip tightened on the steering wheel, but he didn’t answer.
     
    His silence turned her mouth desert-dry. “You haven’t explained why my father sent you,” she persisted, her breath coming in gasps.    
     
    “Not now,” he growled.   
     
    Talk to me! Her imagination, quick to help out, offered possibilities. Maybe he wasn’t working for her father. Maybe he’d just overheard the story about Lancaster, using it to gain her cooperation, and he was actually in league with the terrorists!
     
    He could have been the one to mail the bomb to the safe house, forcing her to flee out the back. It made sense, didn’t it? And now he was driving her to some remote spot to cut her head off!
     
    Oh my God! Eryn peered out the window, noting their speed and measuring her chances for survival if she jumped out.  
     
    “Relax.” Her rescuer/abductor spoke up suddenly. “You’re headed somewhere safe. That’s all you need to know.”
     
    Oh, really? She glared at the back of his head, relived but furious. Who was he to tell her what she did or didn’t need to know?
     
    He tipped the rearview mirror. As their gazes clashed, Eryn’s stomach flip-flopped. The memory of how solid, how male he had felt pinning her to the shed sent a shiver of awareness through her. In any kind of physical struggle,