The Agent Next Door (12 page)

Erin shifted back and forth on her feet as
time ticked by. She didn’t want to sit down. The tables and benches
bolted to the floor looked colder than usual. The room wasn’t
exactly silent. She could hear the murmur of voices, footfalls and
the occasional metallic clank.

After what felt like the longest minute of
her life, she looked at John. His back was straight but his arms
hung loose at his side. His legs were braced apart. He reminded
Erin of an old-time gunslinger, ready for whatever came through
that door.

“You know, you don’t have to hang out here.
One of the guards will come in with her.”

“I’m fine.” He kept his eyes focused on the
far door.

“I’m just saying, I know how boring it can be
waiting, and if you want—”

“Erin, I’m not going anywhere.” His voice was
firm, and strangely reassuring. Because the truth was she didn’t
want him to go. Even though, deep down, she knew his presence would
only throw gasoline on her mother’s flames, she felt better when he
was close. Not just safer.
Better
.

She was just opening her mouth to thank him
when the large metal door on the opposite side of the room slowly
swung open.

Her mother stepped inside. Concern showed
plainly on her face. It only intensified when their gazes
locked.

“Erin. Sweetie. What’s going on? Why are you
here? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Erin said, rushing across
the wide floor and meeting her halfway. She threw her arms around
her mother. She squeezed hard, holding on for a half-second past
the brief moment that the prison allowed for personal contact. The
guard cleared his throat in warning. Erin pulled away. “Everything
is fine.”

“Like hell it is.” Her mom’s critical gaze
swept her up and down. “What are you doing out here on a Tuesday?
And how the hell did you get the warden to agree to let you
in?”

“Why don’t we sit down?” Erin went to the
closest table.

“And who’s the pig?”

Her mother was frozen in the middle of the
room. Her arms were crossed, her hip cocked, and her brow arched
nearly up to her hairline. Erin knew the look well. She remembered
it from her childhood, but two decades in a high security
penitentiary had sharpened her glare to near lethal.

Erin glanced over at John. He didn’t look all
that impressed.

“Come sit down, Mom,” Erin tried.

Her mom stayed locked in the staring contest
with John. Erin wasn’t sure she wanted to know who would win in
that match-up.

“Mom,” Erin called out again.

Nothing. Neither one blinked. Great. The last
thing she needed to deal with was fifth-grade theatrics.

“My house blew up.”

That got her mom’s attention. Her mother
swiveled around on her heel.

“What?”

“My house, it’s gone.”

Her mother’s big, blue eyes—the same color as
her own—went wide. “What happened?”

“Sit down and I’ll tell you.”

Her mom didn’t waste any more time sliding
down on to the bench next to her.

“Is that why the pig is with you?”

“He’s not a pig, Mom. He’s a friend.”

“A friend with enough pull to get you inside
a high security prison to see your mother on a non-visitation day?”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Are you dating him?”

“No,” Erin said with a shake of her head.
Technically, it was the truth. She’d had never been inside a
restaurant with John. She couldn’t say they were dating if they’d
never been out on a date.

Her mother leaned forward, but she didn’t
lower her voice. “But you’re sleeping with him?”

Erin felt a burn of shame creep into her
cheeks. She should have known better than thinking she could pull
one over on her mother.

“He’s my neighbor,” Erin said, trying to
dodge the question. They were getting off topic. She didn’t come
here today to talk about her complicated relationship status.
“John’s been helping me since the explosion.”

That brought her mom back to the topic at
hand. “What happened?”

A sudden pressure built up behind Erin’s
breastbone. If only she could pour her heart out to her mom. She
craved a moment of falling apart in her mother’s arms, of telling
her everything. Then her mom would smooth back her hair and quiet
her tears, and tell her everything was going to be all right.
Wasn’t that what other mothers and daughters did?

“Gas leak,” Erin said.

Her mother stared at her long and hard.
“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me.”

“There’s no way that your
friend
brought you all the way out here because of some gas leak. You’re
in some kind of trouble, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine, Mom.” Erin blinked back the
burning in her eyes. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“I—I can’t.” Her voice was barely a
whisper.

“Is someone after you?”

“Mom—”

“It’s because of
him
, isn’t it?”

Erin’s hesitation was all the answer that her
mother needed.

“I knew it. He looks like a fed. Why the hell
would you get yourself tangled up with one of those? You know
they’re nothing but trouble.”

Erin recoiled like she’d been slapped. “You
don’t know anything about John.”

“I know he’s gotten you involved in some
serious shit.” Her mother reached out her hand. Her voice fell. “Do
you want me to call the family?”

The family.

Erin's blood ran cold. It had been decades
since she had contact with any of the members of her father’s old
gang. “No, mom. That’s not why I’m here.”

“It's not a problem, Erin. All it would take
is one call. I wouldn't even have to cash in any favors. They'd all
do it for you. For your daddy.”

“No.” Erin’s voice was firm. “John’s looking
after me.”

“Doesn’t sound like he’s doing a great job of
it.” She shot another glare at John. Erin’s cheeks began to burn.
“I thought I raised you better than to put your trust in a pig. You
know they have no loyalty.”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m well acquainted with selfish
people who put their desires above the people who depend on
them.”

A flash of shame showed on her mother's face.
A second later, Erin felt one of her own. Her mother might not be
perfect. She might be the furthest thing from it, but she was
paying for her crimes. And she was her mother. Erin didn't want to
hurt her. Not even in anger.

“I’m sorry, Mom. It’s been a rough couple of
days.” Erin glanced down at her hands. John was right. This trip
was a bad idea. “I just wanted you to know that because of…all
this…I might not be able to come out and see you for a while.”

Her mother was silent for a moment. “Why? Are
you running away?”

“No, I just have to lay low for a bit. I'll
be back when it's safe.”

“That sounds a hell of a lot like running
away to me.”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course, it matters. Hollidays never run.
We never back down from a fight.”

“Can you even hear yourself, Mom?” Erin threw
up her hands. “Being a Holliday is nothing to be proud of.”

“How dare you say that.” Her mother rose to
her feet.

The guard against the far wall took a step
forward, but stopped short. John must have signaled him to hold
off. But why? Wasn’t this the kind of overly emotional
confrontation he had been afraid of?

“Maybe if dad had backed down the day the FBI
knocked on our door he would be alive right now. Maybe you wouldn't
have ended up locked away for the rest of your life. Maybe I could
have grown up with parents I wasn’t ashamed to talk about.”

“You’re ashamed of me?”

Erin immediately wished that she could snatch
the words out of the air and stuff them back down.

“Mom, I didn't mean that.”

“Don't lie to me, girl. Of course, you
did.”

“Okay, maybe I used to be, but that was a
long time ago, back when I was a kid.”

“You’re mad at me? Fine. But your daddy was
loyal to our family through thick and thin. He would have done
anything for you.”

“Except stick around while I grew up.”

“He had to take a stand.” Her mother's eyes
narrowed. “It was a matter of pride.”

“Pride?” Erin flew to her feet. She propped
her hands on the table and met her mother eye to eye. “He chose
pride over me. Over you. He chose not to put that damn gun down. He
could have walked out that door with his hands up and talked to
those agents, but he chose pride instead. And you and I were the
ones left to pay the price.”

Erin drew in a ragged breath. She wasn't sure
how she felt now that the words were out. Not embarrassed. Not
guilty. None of the emotions she was so used to.

She steeled herself for the tirade that would
start flowing from her mother. Instead, a smile spread across her
face.

“You've been waiting a long time to say that,
haven't you.”

Erin balled her shaking hands and stuffed
them into her pockets. “I don't know. Maybe.”

“That's my girl,” she said. “Get angry. Angry
is good. Angry is better than scared.”

Erin sat back down on the bench. “You sure
about that? Because it doesn't feel that way.”

“Yeah, I'm sure. Those poor sons of bitches
that are messing with you have no idea the mistake they've made
pissing off Frank Holliday's daughter.”

John must have decided that was enough
because the guard finally walked over to her mom’s side.

“I told you, Mom. I'm not like dad,” she
called out as her mother was led away by the arm toward the
door.

“Oh, I know, darling. You're ten times
stronger than he ever was.”

Chapter 9

The Tule fog had rolled in. John could barely
see across the parking lot to the car. The darkening sky didn’t
help either. The conditions would make for a long ride back home,
but hopefully not another silent one. The last thing he wanted was
for Erin to get lost in her head again.

She hurried down the stairs ahead of him and
made a beeline for the Range Rover.

He wasn’t surprised. It had been an emotional
meeting. One that was long overdue.

He’d been wrong about Erin’s mother. It had
only taken him a few seconds of watching them interact for him to
realize that. She’d been able to get through to Erin in ways he
couldn’t.

Sure, the woman despised him and all that he
stood for. No shocker there. But this wasn’t about him.

Before the guard had led Carol Holliday into
the room, John couldn’t reconcile the idea of a notorious criminal
couple being the parents of the woman who’d trembled in his arms.
There was no way someone as sweet and soft as Erin could have come
from such terrible people. She was nothing like them.

But the moment he’d seen the two together,
he'd understood. It wasn't just similar features—the crystal blue
eyes they shared, or the stubborn chin. Carol Holliday might have
been the poster child for rebellion, but she was also a mother.
Erin's mother.

John had seen her humanity break through—the
pain in her eyes as Erin broke down, disappointment in her taste in
men, impotent anger that her daughter was facing a danger she was
powerless to protect her against.

John opened the passenger door. Erin slipped
past him. Even in the dense gray gloom, he could make out the
shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes.

He felt a painful pull in his chest beneath
his breastbone. Usually tears meant that he had won, that he’d
pushed his target past the breaking point. But there was no winning
here.

Damn it. He was used to being the one with
all the answers, but right now he had no idea how to ease her
pain.

He climbed into the driver’s seat, closed the
door and turned toward her. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” She gave a slight nod, but her tone
was flat. “I’m good. I just want to get out of here.”

Her brave front only made it worse. Only made
him want to scoop her up in his arms and kiss her until she forgot
all about this place, all about the danger that had invaded her
life. Until the only thing she felt was his touch.

Instead, he slipped the key into the
ignition, started the SUV, and pulled out of the parking spot. He
glanced in the rearview mirror. The headlights of the FBI sedans
were faint in the fog, but they were there.

A mile down the road Erin’s gaze was still
focused somewhere in the distance, and her mouth was still clamped
shut. She sat only inches away, but she looked so alone. Enough was
enough.

“I’ve always been a disappointment to my
parents.”

Erin swiveled toward him, looking startled.
“Excuse me?”

Okay, maybe not his smoothest opening. This
would be easier if he had Ty’s charming smile, or Alex’s way with
words. He often felt lacking in comparison to his SEAL brothers.
All John had was brutal honesty. It was going to have to do.

“I’m just trying to say that I understand
what it feels like to be at odds with your family. Mine have never
approved of the choices I’ve made.”

She blinked a few times as if trying to clear
her head. “How is that possible? Your work keeps people safe. You
were a Navy SEAL, for God’s sake? Who could possibly be
disappointed with that? Besides
my
mother?”

“Mine, apparently. My father was a philosophy
professor at Berkeley. He wrote a couple of famous pacifist essays.
My mother worked with several anti-war non-profits.”

“Your parents are hippies?” Her brows shot up
as a giggle escaped her lips. It looked like the truth was enough
after all.

John smiled. “You could say that.”

“Wow.” She patted her hand against this thigh
for emphasis. She didn’t pull it away. It was a small gesture, but
an intimate one that immediately dissipated the cold distance
between them. “I’m having a hard time imagining that.”