The Agent Next Door (3 page)

John nodded, and stayed standing as Marianne
took a look around his living room.

“So, this is it?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“It’s a bit…minimalist, don’t you think?”

John pulled his brows together and crossed
his arms in front of his chest. It was a stance that had been known
to make hardened war criminals tremble. Marianne Wilson didn’t look
all that impressed.

“Are you ready to go to the barbecue?” he
asked.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. I’m not
going to make a young buck like yourself drag an old bat like me to
a party.” Marianne laughed “Not that it wouldn’t be worth it to see
the look on Stephanie Duncan’s face when I walked in with one of
your beefy arms wrapped around me.”

“So, we’re not going?”

“Oh, you’re going. Just not with me. You’re
going to take Erin.”

“But she’s not here.”

“Of course she isn’t. You’re going to go over
there and get her.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I might be old, but I'm not blind. I saw the
way that you were looking at Erin.”

“And?” John shrugged his shoulders. Erin
Holliday was a beautiful woman, soft in all the right places. She
also seemed to be smart and oddly charming. What was there not to
like?

“And...Erin is a sweet girl. Hell, she puts
up with me. But she's had a rough time. A real rough time, and she
deserves to have a man who looks at her the way you do show up at
her door and take her out properly.”

“Rough time? Tell me what you mean.” It
wasn’t a polite request. It was a command, one that even Marianne
couldn’t miss.

“I’m not one to gossip,” Marianne said,
scooting forward. “And it's not my story to tell...but, do you
remember Frank Holliday?”

“The biker?”

“That's the one. He is—I mean
was
—Erin’s father.” Marianne reached out and grabbed John's
forgotten glass of scotch. She tipped it toward him before taking a
long swallow. John waited for her to sputter and cough, but, to his
surprise, she didn’t even flinch. “Whew, you do like the good
stuff, don’t you, Muscles?”

John ignored her comment. His brows pulled
together. Frank Holliday was Erin’s father?

Of course, he’d heard of the man. He'd been
the head of the country’s most dangerous motorcycle gangs and one
of the most notorious outlaws of the last century. Frank Holliday
had become a legend, a symbol of defiance. Of course, he'd also
been a criminal and a cold-blooded killer. Until he'd been gunned
down in one of the bloodiest standoffs in FBI history. It was a
famous tale…and a gory one.

Still, as well as John knew the story, he had
never known that Frank Holliday had a family. He tried to reconcile
the feminine gardener next door with the image of a hardened
outlaw.

Then again, it did explain the fear he'd seen
in her eyes. In his experience, a person who had been intimately
acquainted with violence was quick to recognize it in others.

“Maybe it would be a good idea if we left her
alone,” John said.

Marianne stared up at him for a moment with
wide eyes before vigorously shaking her head. “No, it wouldn't be a
good idea. It would be a bad idea. And to think I had you pegged as
one of the smart ones.”

“I don’t think she wants me around.”

Marianne waved her hand dismissively. “That’s
because you’re an idiot. She was eyeballing you like a dog that
hasn’t had a bone in a couple of years. And trust me, knowing Erin
as well as I do, that’s probably a generous estimate.”

John frowned. Really? He couldn’t imagine a
woman as lush as Erin lacking attention.

“But—”

“No more buts,” Marianne said, jumping up
from the couch faster than he imagined a woman of her age could
manage. She strode over to him and planted her pointer finger
square in the middle of his chest. “You're going over there. You
both are going to have a nice evening if I have to drag you over to
the Michalson’s house myself. Understand?”

John held up his hands in mock surrender.
“Yes, ma’am.”

“Dang right, you do.” She let her finger fall
away. “Now, am I right in assuming that you don't have a nice
bottle of wine around here?”

John stayed silent. She was right. He didn’t
have a bottle, nice or otherwise.

“That's what I thought.” Marianne turned
around and started to dig into the blue bag she’d placed on his
table. She pulled a bottle from the bag and handed it over to him.
“Now you do.”

He looked down at the label. It didn’t mean
anything to him.

“So do you know what to do with that, or do
you need me to spell that out for you too?” Marianne asked.

John looked up from under his brows. “I’m
pretty sure I’ve got it.”

The truth was he wasn’t sure at all. He’d
been with his share of women, a night here and a night there,
mutual agreements that lead to nights filled with pleasure and
release, but not much more.

But this bottle of wine, it looked a hell of
a lot like romance, and that was something that he didn’t know a
damned thing about. Not that he was about to let Marianne in on
that secret.

“Good,” Marianne said. A wide, satisfied
smile spread across her face. “Then I will see you at the
Michalson’s in about a half an hour.”

John looked on as Marianne showed herself
out. Erin had been right. It turned out that he wasn’t able to
handle Marianne Wilson after all.

***

“Just a second,” Erin yelled down the
staircase. The doorbell chime had sounded just as she was getting
started on the second lid with her black eye liner. She glanced at
her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She was only half-dressed,
her hair still piled on top of her head with a banana clip, so she
could finish up her face before putting on the flowing, pink silk
blouse she’d picked out for tonight. At least her left side was
looking good. Well, good enough to let Marianne in at any rate.

It wasn’t like Erin to spend so much time on
her makeup. There wasn’t much use pretending why she was going to
all this effort. She wanted to make a better impression with John
than she had this morning. It might not be the most prudent
decision she’d ever made, but Erin was surprised to find that her
vanity demanded it.

Erin put the eyeliner down on the edge of the
sink. It was no big shock that Marianne was early. Well, she was
going to have to wait while Erin finished up.

“One sec,” she called out again, as she
scurried down the staircase.

She threw open the door, and yelped in
surprise. It wasn’t Marianne standing on her doorstep.

It was John, the reason she’d spent a good
hour watching cheek contouring and cat eye tutorials on YouTube in
the first place.

He stared down at her. His head cocked to the
side, but he didn’t show any other reaction. Erin raised a hand to
cover her face. It was the best she could do to recover from
screaming like a creature out of a monster movie.

So much for vanity and good impressions.

“I’m sorry,” Erin said, after she’d had a
moment to collect herself. “I was expecting Marianne.”

“Is this a bad time?” he asked.

“No. No.” Erin shook her head vigorously.
“It’s fine that you’re here. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Come on in.” The polite invitation
left her lips before she could think better of it. There was no way
to take it back now. Her grandmother would spin in her grave over
that level of rudeness. “I was just getting ready.”

He nodded and stepped into her hallway, but
didn’t move another inch.

“But if you don’t mind my asking, why
are
you here?”

“Marianne came over to tell me that her plans
had changed, and she would meet us there.”

“Of course, she did.” Erin’s shoulders fell
as understanding washed over her. “What else did she want?”

“Nothing,” he said with a straight face.

Erin laughed. “Don’t lie.”

“Excuse me.” His voice dropped down to a
rumble. Erin had the feeling that no one had ever called him out on
a lie before. Then again, he’d probably never told a more obvious
one.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s sweet of you to
try.”

“Sweet?”

“You don’t have to worry about sparing my
feelings. I mean, how could anything get worse than this,” Erin
said, swiping her fingers down the side of her half made face.

John quirked a brow, giving Erin the
impression that he could think of a few things that were much
worse.

“It’s just that I’ve known Marianne for a
while now, and, trust me, she never just drops by anyone’s house
for just a second, or without an ulterior motive. Let me guess. She
told you to come over here and walk with me to the Michalson’s
because it would be more romantic.”

“Something like that.”

“And she gave you that bottle of wine to give
me, didn’t she?”

He lifted the bottle in his hand and
nodded.

Erin gave him her best apologetic smile.
“Sorry. I tried to warn you.”

“You did.”

“I’m just saying, you don’t
have
to be
here.”

“I know. I’m here because I want to be.”

“Oh.” It was the only word her lips could
seem to form as his gaze intensified. She certainly believed him
now. She just couldn’t fathom why. “Um…Then, I’m going to finish
getting ready. You can wait in the living room if you like. I won’t
be long.”

He nodded and stepped into the next room.
Erin rushed up the stairs. She couldn’t bear the thought of him
twiddling his thumbs down there while she took the time to finish
what she’d started. She cranked the faucet, not waiting for the
water to get hot before she started scrubbing at her face. It took
a few swipes to get all traces of the black gunk off.

As soon as she had a blank canvas, she rushed
through her usual routine—light foundation, a couple of coats of
mascara and some lip gloss. She pulled her hair back into a high
ponytail, threw on her blouse, and checked herself in the mirror.
It wasn’t fancy, but it would have to do.

Erin rounded the corner of the stairs and
found John sitting in the center of her overstuffed couch. She
didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone surrounded by so many pillows
look so uncomfortable. His back was stiff and straight and his
hands were unmoving in his lap like he was afraid to touch anything
in the pink and white room.

He stood as soon as she stepped into view.
His eyes stayed on her as he walked toward her.

“You changed your makeup,” he said.

“Yeah. I was just messing around before, but
I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“I like you better this way. I can see your
face.”

He stopped just in front of her, so close
that she had to tilt her chin up. All the air in Erin’s lungs
disappeared.

“Th-thank you,” she said.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He nodded, and, without another word, strode
past her to the front door.

Who the hell was this guy?
The
question rang through Erin’s head as she walked the block and half
to the Michalson’s. She’d only known him for a few hours but he had
taken over her thoughts.

That wasn’t exactly true. She didn’t know him
at all. In fact, the only things she did know about him were his
name, his address and that he could make her knees go all wobbly
with a single glance.

“So, uh, John,” she said, as they crossed the
empty street. “Where do you work?”

“Oakland.”

“What do you do?”

“I work for the government.”

“At the Federal Building?”

He nodded.

“Ah. I used to work at a software company a
couple blocks away from there before I went into business for
myself.”

He looked over at her. Erin had the feeling
that if he were walking by himself he would be going twice as fast,
but he matched her slower stride.

“You work with computers?” he asked.

“I design websites.”

“You must love your work.”

“I do.” Erin smiled up at him. She couldn’t
remember the last time she’d smiled so much around anyone other
than Marianne. Strange, that this man, someone that her first
instinct was to hide from, would be the one to bring it out in
her.

It wasn’t that she’d changed her mind about
him. His stare was the definition of intimidating. He walked with a
confident gait that screamed ‘don’t mess with me’. The sheer
breadth of his shoulders made her glad they were friends and not
enemies.

Friends? Was that what they were? It was
probably too soon call it that, but it sure looked like they were
headed in that direction. He had been nothing but kind to both her
and Marianne. He’d been willing to see past her strange first
impression, and reach out.

That didn’t mean she was fooling herself. His
behavior today might border on sweet, but there was no way that he
was looking at her the way she looked at him. His body put most gym
rats to shame. She, on the other hand, had never even seen the
inside of a 24 Hour Fitness. He wasn’t just out of her league. They
weren’t even playing the same sport.

“It’s the second house on the left,” Erin
said as they rounded the corner though there wasn’t any need to
point out which one was the Michalson’s. Their annual barbecue was
always a big neighborhood event. The street was packed with parked
cars. A handful of people mingled on their front lawn. Music and
the sound of chatter spilled over the back fence.

A handwritten sign on the gate read Come On
In, and John held it open for her as she slipped through.

Erin was only a few steps into the backyard
when she heard her name called. She turned toward the voice and saw
Barbara Michalson weaving her way through the crowd by the pool, a
huge smile plastered on her face. Little crinkles of curiosity
lifted the corners of her eyes, but she wasn’t looking at Erin. Her
eyes were locked on John.