The Protector Read Free Page A

back of the safe house. Camera three showed an empty, fenced-in yard, where nothing of interest was happening. Camera four showed the yards of the condos backing up to theirs. In one such yard sat a man Jackson had tentatively identified as National Guardsman Hal Houston, only he wore no markings on his military-issue jacket to confirm it. More curious still, he was sporting gloves on a fine, spring day with temperatures already in the fifties.
     
    “Maddox,” Caine called again, and Jackson dragged his attention to his supervisor’s monitor, where the split screen showed two different angles of a man in a UPS uniform standing at the front door of the safe house.
     
    Jackson sprang from his seat for a closer look. “Is that a terrorist?” he exclaimed. The man looked more Indian than Afghani, though it was hard to tell for certain.   
     
    “Nah, it’s the UPS guy. I’ve seen him before. But why’s he bringing us a package?”  
     
    “How do you know it’s not a bomb?” Jackson asked. After so many tours in Iraq, every mysterious object tended to look like a bomb.
     
    Caine snatched up the phone to contact the agent watching the safe house from across the street. “ Ringo , what’s up with UPS?” he said.   
     
    “Don’t know.” Jackson could hear Ringo’s tinny voice through the speaker. “I’ve seen him around before. Did we ask for a package?”
     
    “Hell, no.”   
     
    “So, what do we do?”  
     
    “Go tell him no one’s home and you’ll hold the package for them,” Caine suggested.   
     
    “What if it’s a bomb?” Jackson repeated.  
     
    Caine sent him a scowl. “We’re not in Iraq, Rookie.”
     
    Jackson glanced back at his own monitor. Nothing had changed. The back yard still stood empty. The neighbor was still sitting in his own yard, wearing gloves. Something didn’t feel right. “One of us should stay with Eryn ,” he asserted, and not for the first time.
     
    As usual, Brad Caine just ignored him.
     
     
     

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Two
     
     
     
    Eryn snatched her head up, startled. Winston pushed to all fours, his ears twitching. Who on earth would be ringing the doorbell? she wondered as the chime faded.
     
    Her imagination supplied an immediate answer. The taxi driver! He had tracked her down, and now he would finish what he’d started.  
     
    That can’t be. How would he know where to find me?
     
    There was only one way to know for sure, and that was to go to the door and take a look.
     
    Rising on jittery knees, Eryn traversed the short hallway from the kitchen. Her breath rasped in the silence as she tiptoed toward the solid panel door and put an eye to the peep hole.
     
    She drew back uncertainly. The familiar-looking uniform was reassuring, but the man wearing it was as foreign as all of her students. And why would UPS bring a package to a safe house? It had to be a trick, a way to get her to open the door.
     
    Retreating to the kitchen, she snatched up the phone and pushed one for Jackson. “There’s a man at the door with a box,” she whispered when he answered.  
     
    “It’s just UPS.” While his words were encouraging, the thread of tension underlying them was not. “Don’t answer, Eryn . Stay right where you are.”  
     
    How did Jackson know who was at the door? “What’s in the box?” she asked, even as her mind supplied an answer: a pipe bomb, of course. Wasn’t that what terrorists always put in boxes?
     
    Suddenly, the caller gave a forceful knock. Panic flooded Eryn’s arteries. He had overheard her whispering! He knew she was in here!
     
    “I have to go!”  
     
    “ Eryn , wait! Stay on the phone with me—”
     
    She hung up on him abruptly. Her father had promised her that the FBI would keep her safe. But she didn’t feel safe here, not at all.
     
    Snatching her purse from off the kitchen counter, she whirled toward the basement stairs. “Winston, come!”  
     
    He shot past her on the narrow