The Agent Next Door (13 page)

“It’s not just my parents. My brother works
for Greenpeace, and my sister is a lawyer for the ACLU.”

She laughed in earnest this time, a beautiful
sound that filled the car with warmth. “I can only imagine what
Thanksgiving is like at your house.”

“It has its moments.”

She rubbed her hand against his leg. “I bet
it does.”

John took in the first easy breath he’d had
in days.

A chime broke the silence. Erin’s text alert.
She reached into her pocket and pulled it out. He looked over at
the message as the screen illuminated the dark car.

How was your visit with mama?

***

Erin’s fingers curled into John’s leg as she
swiveled around in her seat. She looked out the back window, but
saw nothing but darkness. Not even headlights. The fog was so thick
that there was no way of knowing how far behind them the FBI sedans
were.

“Do you think the Mustaar are following
us?”

An engine roared behind them. A second later,
the Range Rover was flooded with yellow light. Whoever they were,
they were right on their bumper.

“I’m going with yes,” John said, glancing in
the rearview mirror. His hands tightened around the steering wheel
as the light became brighter. “Hold on.”

Erin braced her arms against the dashboard
just as they were rammed from behind. The car jolted forward. The
seatbelt locked in place across her chest. The wheels wobbled, but
John kept the SUV steady on the road.

“Don't look back. Keep your head pressed
against the headrest.”

Erin did as he said, just in time for another
jolt to shake the car. She waited for a burst of speed, for John to
accelerate and get them the hell out of there, but he kept their
speed steady.

A second later, bright red tail lights
appeared ahead of them. The Mustaar had blocked the road. There was
no way out.

Erin tensed, preparing for the crash, but
John turned the wheel hard. They swerved from the road with just
inches to spare. The wheels hit dirt and kept going.

Trees emerged from the dense fog, and Erin
realized where they were. The orchard before the freeway. She’d
passed it hundreds of times. The almond trees seemed to go on
forever.

John couldn’t possibly think he could lose
their pursuers in there. It was far too dangerous. The space
between the rows of trees were barely wide enough for the Range
Rover to pass through. There was no margin for error. And God only
knew what was waiting out there in this fog.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Erin
said as tree trunks began to blur outside her window.

“Trust me,” John said. He’d gone hard as
stone. Not a single sign of fear or panic showed on his face.

The dull yellow light was back. Brighter this
time. Bright enough for two cars.

“Those aren’t your FBI friends, are
they?”

The lights were gaining on them.

“Doubt it,” he said. “Ty’s men probably lost
us in the fog. I doubt they even know were off the road yet.”

Confirmation came a second later as gun shots
rang out. Erin ducked out of instinct, covering her head. She
waited for the shards of broken glass to rain down over her. But it
never happened. She peeked up at John.

“The car is armored,” he said.

She tried to suck in a breath. She was
shaking so hard that she could barely keep herself together. “You
have a bulletproof car? Do they give one of these to everyone at
the Department of Homeland Security.”

John gave one quick shake of his head. “It's
custom.”

Of course it was. Some men got flashy rims.
Some put in bulletproof panels.

He put one hand on her back, his palm flat
against her spine. “But it's not invincible, so it’s still a good
idea for you to stay down.”

Erin's eyes went round, and she tucked
herself into a tighter ball. Her lips moved in silent prayer.

Dear God, please let us live through
this.

She stared down at the floor between her legs
as bullets pinged off the side of the car. The sound brought back a
flood of memories. All too familiar fear clogged her throat. She
fought for each breath, desperate to keep herself in this moment,
but the memories refused to be suppressed. They came roaring back
to life.

There had been a lot of people at the house
the night her father died. There was nothing strange about that.
They rode up on their motorcycles at all hours. Erin had become so
used to the sputters and roars that most nights she slept right
through them.

But the sound of car engines, those were
different. She’d jumped out of bed the moment she heard that more
civilized hum traveling down the long dirt drive that led to their
door.

Erin had hesitated before going out to tell
her daddy that the cars were coming. He’d been in a bad mood all
night. Worst one that she'd ever seen. Nobody liked it when Daddy
was in a bad mood. Usually, all the people stayed away when he
yelled and screamed, but that night they’d all stayed.

The house was packed when Erin shuffled
sleepily out of her room. Wearing her long white nightgown and
dragging her tattered teddy behind her, she slipped through the
crowd. She found her daddy standing tall near the back door and
pulled on the corner of his black leather jacket. She’d expected
him to be angry, but he just looked sad instead.

He’d knelt down and cupped Erin’s face with
his hands. His lips had pressed hard against her forehead.

“I’m sorry, Baby doll,” he’d said. “I love
you. Promise me you’ll be a good girl.”

“I’ll be good, Daddy.”

He’d picked her up, holding her close for one
last moment, before handing her over to Mommy. Then her mother ran,
not stopping until they’d reached the thick grove of trees on top
of the hill that overlooked the house.

Mommy was shaking as she wrapped her arms
around Erin, pulling her deeper into the shadows. Erin didn’t
understand why. They were too far from the house to hear the shouts
from the men in the cars. She couldn’t even hear her daddy’s voice
as he stepped onto the porch.

But the gunfire…

The barrage of bullets had zinged off the
metal siding of their house, just like they did now off the panels
of John's car.

Erin shook her head, desperate to clear it.
This wasn't twenty years ago. And that wasn't the FBI out there.
There was no option of surrender. There was only one way this ended
and that was with both of them flat on the ground with a couple of
extra holes in their heads.

Erin dragged in one ragged breath after
another, each one coming faster than the last. She tried to pull
her knees in tighter to her chest but her fingertips had gone numb,
a feeling that was quickly traveling up her arms and down her
legs.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.
That's a promise,” John said, his voice as soothing as any caress.
“But I need you to stay calm. This next part is going to get a
little rough.”

Erin’s head shot up. What next part? How
could this possibly get any rougher?

She’d just opened her mouth to ask when John
jerked the steering wheel hard to the left. Before Erin could
scream, the car dove between two trees, barely squeezing through
the slim gap.

The car on their tail wasn't so lucky. A
sickening crunch sounded behind them.

John slammed on the brakes, and the Range
Rover stopped short. He cut the engine. Erin spun around in her
seat. She could barely make out the mangled hood of an SUV wrapped
around the tree just a few feet away.

John leaned across her and threw open the
glove compartment. He tossed her the same 9mm from the firing
range.

“If anyone but me gets in this car, you
shoot. Don’t talk. Don’t ask questions. Shoot. Got it?”

Erin clenched the grip tight and nodded.

John turned and swung the car door open.

“Wait.” Erin shot her hand out to stop him.
“You can’t go out there.”

“I have to.”

She gripped his arm tighter, her fingers
curling into his sleeve. “It’s suicide. There’s still another car
hiding in the fog out there. God knows if you’ll be able to see
them.”

“Then they won’t be able to see me
either.”

“John, please.” Her voice cracked. She was
desperate to keep him in the car. She wasn’t even thinking of her
own safety anymore. If something happened to John… If she were
forced to watch as he was shot down… There was no way she could
bear it.

He leaned over and wrapped his hand behind
the nape of her neck. He pulled her close, pressing his lips
against hers. “I’ll be back for you. I swear.”

In the next heartbeat, he pulled away and
stepped outside. Erin watched through the window as he pressed his
back against the car, and waited.

Seconds ticked by, and Erin couldn’t breathe.
The only sound now was the constant high hiss of the busted
radiator from the smashed car.

Erin went still, straining to hear anything
that might be waiting for them in the gray gloom. All she could
make out was the rustle of the leaves, the noise from the other
car, and the pounding of her own heart.

No, something else
was
out there—the
low purr of an engine idling nearby. Erin spun around in her seat,
trying to locate the car in the heavy fog, but it was no use. She
couldn’t see more than ten feet in any direction.

John slowly moved along the Range Rover,
inching his way toward the back. Erin bit into her lip. She fought
the urge to yell at him to stay put. There was no way of knowing
where the second car was, or how outnumbered they were.

Suddenly, an engine gunned and shattered the
silence. Headlights switched on, illuminating the fog on her side
of the car, getting closer with every heartbeat. Erin’s first
instinct was to jump from the passenger seat into the driver’s, but
she had no time. Instead, she closed her eyes and braced for
impact, one that would tear her side of the car apart.

A single shot rang out.

Erin peeked through one eye when the expected
hit didn’t come. A dark-colored SUV broke through the fog and into
view, it’s wheels slowed to a crawl. It was almost out of momentum
when it came to a rest with a tap against Erin’s door. There was no
question why.

A cobweb of splintered glass and splattered
blood radiated out from a lone bullet hole in the windshield. Erin
swiveled away, grateful that the damage kept her from coming face
to face with the sight of the dead driver.

John was crouched down by the back of the
car, his gun raised in front of him. He'd hit the driver, and he’d
done it with one shot and a fraction of a second to aim. It was
damned impressive. Not that she wanted to sit face to face with his
handiwork.

She was climbing over the center console,
reaching for the door, when the sound of more gunshots stopped
her.

She swung around. It wasn’t over. A man had
jumped out of the second car, holding the biggest gun Erin had ever
seen. There was nothing methodical about his gunfire. Bullets
scattered through the trees haphazardly striking the side of the
car, the trees, and the dirt.

Erin clutched the Glock tighter and hunkered
down as best she could into the foot well. She could only make out
the top of the gunman’s head. She couldn’t see John at all. Her
heart froze as the barrage of gunfire went on and on. There was no
way that John could survive such an intense attack.

Her tears flowed down her cheeks and fell
onto her knees when there was a break in deafening onslaught. The
bastard must have run out of bullets. She risked a glance up just
in time to see John—still standing, thank God—swing around the
bumper.

One shot sounded. The man’s head snapped
back, and he collapsed out of sight.

Erin's hand flew to her mouth as she stared
out the window. She didn’t need to move over to get a closer look.
She knew what a dead man looked like.

An eerie quiet fell over the orchard. John’s
gaze met hers through the back window.

“Are you all right?” he shouted, his tone as
tense as the rest of him.

Erin nodded even though she was far from
okay.

She watched with wide eyes as John slid
around the Range Rover. He strode over to the man’s car and opened
the driver's door. He gave the inside of the car a quick once over
before turning and doing the same to the one that had crashed. A
moment later, he stood, shaking his head.

They were dead. They were all dead.

Erin’s shoulders shook as she drew in a
breath. Relief spread through her like a flood. They were safe. For
the moment anyway. John had saved them, just like he’d said he
would.

John came to her door. Erin threw it open and
tried to wrap her arms around his neck to show her gratitude. She
wasn’t going to be able to thank him, not with the sobs that were
clogging up her throat.

He pulled back, and wrapped his fingers
around hers, taking away the 9mm.

The gun. Of course. She’d forgotten all about
it. John clicked on the safety and placed the weapon on the dash.
Only then did he let her crash against him. At least one of them
was thinking clearly.

She buried her face against his hard chest
and closed her eyes. She relished the sound of his heart, beating
strong and steady under her ear, proof that he was alive. Unlike
the men lying in pools of blood behind her.

Erin tried hard not to think about them. They
would have done the same to her without a pang of regret. All
because she cared about a man they hated. That had been enough to
sign her death warrant.

And she did care about him. There was no use
pretending otherwise.

Erin unwrapped her arms from around his
shoulders and looked into his deep brown eyes. She slid her hand up
the back of his neck and pulled his head down. Her lips quivered
against his.