The Agent Next Door (6 page)

There was a pause on the other end.

“Your house?” Ty’s voice vibrated with anger.
It was comforting to know that even years after serving in the same
SEAL team, the brothers still had each other’s back.

“I’m pretty sure I was the target, but that's
not how it worked out.”

Ty gave a deep sigh. John wished he could
feel the same sense of relief, but the truth was he wished that it
had been his place that was now a charred skeleton. To him a house
was just a few walls and a roof. To Erin, it was something else
entirely.

“My superiors are insisting on an FBI
security detail, and I’m insisting on you.” John needed someone he
could trust, and there were few people in this world who met that
description.

“Of course. Anything. Though this has to be
one hell of a threat for you to ask for protection.”

“The protection isn't for me.”

John lifted his head as the constant murmur
of the crowd behind him went silent.

“I'll brief you when you get here,” John said
to Ty, then ended the call.

Erin was cutting a straight line across the
court…toward him. The officer John had entrusted to follow her was
a few steps behind, trying to catch up.

But based on the speed of Erin’s determined
stride, she wasn’t about to let anyone stop her.

John held up his hand, stopping the officer
in his tracks. He could handle this.

She stopped right in front of him. “You
knew,” she said. Her voice was low, barely above a whisper, but it
vibrated with intensity.

John didn’t pretend to misunderstand her
words, but there was no way that he could answer her. Not right
now.

“Later,” he said.

“You knew,” she repeated, her voice louder
this time. “You knew that my house was going to—”

John wrapped his arms around Erin and pulled
her close. He had no doubt that to the crowd assembled just beyond
the yellow tape it looked like nothing more than a simple embrace,
a caring friend comforting a neighbor in their darkest moment, but
the sudden force as she hit his chest stopped her words. He lowered
his mouth to her ear.

“Later,” he said again, enunciating both
syllables.

He didn’t want to frighten her, but she had
no idea how much danger she was in. The only thing that could make
it worse was the truth getting out and sending the neighborhood
into a panic.

Erin’s brows pulled together, forming deep
creases beneath her wispy, blonde bangs. She looked tired, and
hurt, but mostly she just looked scared. Fear filled her eyes. It
vibrated through her body. She hummed with it.

John held her tighter, trying to stop her
shaking, but instead he only seemed to intensify it. Maybe that was
better. If she fell to pieces out here no one would question him
carrying her away.

But she didn’t start crying. He felt her
fighting back the sobs. With every breath her trembling
diminished.

When she pulled away from his grasp, her eyes
were bloodshot but determined.

“Give me your phone,” she hissed.

“Why?” he asked.

“Marianne is still out with her friends. And
I'm going to need to stay at her house tonight.”

“You'll stay with me,” he said. It wasn't an
offer. And he didn't leave it at tonight, either. There was no way
that he was letting her out of his sight.

“But—”

“You want answers?”

She glared up at him. He felt sick for
manipulating her when she was in such a vulnerable state, but she
needed his protection…and he had a sneaking suspicion that she
wasn't going to like the alternative.

She didn't understand the depth of the
situation that she'd just been thrust into. He was going to have to
change that. But not here.

Not now.

She pressed her lips together, flattening her
mouth into a straight, thin line. John could practically see the
wheels turning in her mind. Finally she nodded.

“Then you'll stay with me,” he said.

Anger flashed in her eyes.

Good. She was still capable of protective
emotions. That was a good sign. He could only guess what this night
had done to her, but at least it hadn't beaten her. It hadn't
completely doused her fire.

“You bastard,” she whispered slowly.

Guilt pushed to the surface.

She was right about that. She was right about
everything. He
was
a bastard. He
had
known that it
was a bomb that she’d held in her hands. And he knew that he was
the reason that her whole world had literally blown apart.

It didn’t matter what pangs of conscience he
had to suffer through. He could bear them. The only thing that
counted was keeping Erin safe. No matter the cost.

***

The paramedics were just finishing up
cleaning the last of Erin’s scrapes when a stranger pulled up. She
heard the roar of the motorcycle before she saw it. Apparently, so
did John. He gazed down the street in anticipation.

Erin tensed. It had been a whole half hour
since she’d confronted John…and been shut down. All she wanted was
to get somewhere private where she could demand answers. All she
wanted was for
later
to be now.

But John had insisted that she finished being
treated by the paramedics. And since she had to be there, she
insisted that he get looked over as well. He hadn’t looked too
happy about having his wounds treated in public. Too bad. If she
had to deal with it so did he. Besides, she wasn't about to let him
get a nasty infection just because of some overblown sense of
pride. At least, not until she got her answers.

Now it looked like there was going to be
another delay.

The motorcycle pulled up next to the
ambulance and the driver stepped off. He pulled off his helmet then
rushed over to John. Erin relaxed a little.

It was obvious that the two were friends,
good ones, even though they were so different. John's strength came
from his size. Even his features were strong. His emotions were
kept in check at all times, though she knew now that he could
explode into action at a moment's notice.

The stranger was different. He was slimmer,
more wiry. Black hair dusted his ears. His grey-green eyes flashed
over John and showed every emotion—relief at seeing his friend
relatively unhurt and outrage that he'd been in danger in the first
place.

He grabbed John by the arm. The look of
concern in his eyes was plain. Who was this guy? He nearly pushed
the paramedics out of the way to get to John.

“Are you okay?” the man asked. His eyes swept
over the bandages the paramedics had used to patch up the scrapes
on his arms and face.

“I'm fine,” John said. The lines around his
mouth tightened. Erin was starting to figure out the meaning behind
the slight changes in his expressions. He didn't like the extra
attention, especially regarding his injuries.

“What the hell happened?” the man asked.

John gave a quick shake of his head. His
meaning was clear, not here.
Later
.

Erin held back a bubble of dark laughter. At
least she wasn’t the only one he tried to order around.

“Tyler, this is Erin Holliday. Erin meet
Tyler Brannigan.”

Erin put her hand out and Tyler took it, but
the look in his eyes was far from perfunctory. His assessing gaze
lingered on her face for a moment too long. This was no random
friend of John's here for moral support.

He knew what had happened to her house. He
knew like John knew.

It seemed that she was the only one who
didn’t know what the hell was going on.

Erin felt her defenses rise up. She pulled
her hand away from his and pushed her back up against the
ambulance.

“Give me another minute, Ty,” John said as
the medic placed the last bandage over the cut above his brow.

Erin kept her mouth shut and her eyes on John
and Ty until the paramedic gave them the thumbs up and cut them
loose. She stayed a step behind the pair as John led them to his
door, unsure if she was making the right decision by following them
inside.

There was obviously more going on than Erin
knew about. Something dark and dangerous. Something that she might
be better off turning and running away from.

But her house had already burned to the
ground. What more did she have to lose by sticking around for
answers?

A hell of a lot more
, the voice of
experience sounded in her head.

The inside of John’s house was every bit as
bare as she imagined it would be. There was no art on the walls, no
pictures on the mantel, no rug in the entry way. Just the
essentials, a dark leather couch, a coffee table in front of that,
a television against the opposite wall. Erin imagined that the rest
of the house was the same. Nothing extra, only what was absolutely
necessary.

The floor plan of the house was similar to
her own, but the house felt barren without plants and tables and
bookcases filling up the space. Strangely, she felt more exposed
here than she had outside.

“Have a seat,” John said, gesturing toward
the couch.

Erin tucked herself into the far end of the
couch. John sat on the other side.

“So,” she said before the last of her courage
left her. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

“How about me?” Ty piped up from across the
room, crossing his arms and propping his back against the wall. “Do
I get to know too?”

John narrowed his gaze on his friend. “There
was trouble with the Mustaar operation.”

The smart-ass grin vanished from Ty’s face in
a flash. “What kind of trouble?”

“A couple of my agents had their covers
compromised. I had to send in a team to extract them.”

“So, it was Kallus,” Ty said.

“Looks like it.”

“That’s one hell of a bold attack, coming
after you personally. But it’s not his MO to get the details, like
your address, wrong.”

John shook his head slowly. “He didn’t get it
wrong. I told you, I wasn’t the target.”

“She was?” Ty asked, cocking his head to the
side. “Why?”

“Because Kallus’s wife was killed in the
raid.”

“But what does that have to do with her?” Ty
looked at Erin. His eyes widened as if he was seeing her for the
first time. “Oh.”

Oh
?
Oh, what
?

“Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m lost,” Erin said.
“Who the hell is Kallus, and what is the mustard operation?”

“Mustaar,” John said. “Not Mustard. And it’s
an Estonian criminal organization that deals primarily in
arms.”

Erin heard the words. She even knew what all
of them meant, but somehow nothing John said made sense.
“So…Estonian gun runners blew up my house?”

John nodded.

“That’s ridicu—” The breath froze in Erin’s
lungs as John’s words—all his words—started to gel in her mind.

Agents. Covers. Operations.

“Erin,” John started.

“You’re a cop. A
federal
cop. You’re
FBI.” Erin pushed her back into the arm rest, trying to put as much
distance between them as possible.

John shook his head. “Not FBI. I’m an agent
with the Department of Homeland Security.”

The subtle difference didn’t do much to calm
the swell of panic that was bubbling up inside of her.

John was a federal agent. She should have
known. Her house had blown sky high. Of course the government was
involved.

“What’s wrong with the FBI?” Ty asked.

John drew in a deep breath, but didn’t take
his eyes from hers. “Erin’s father was Frank Holliday.”

“Oh,” Ty said again.

Erin sprung up from the couch and stumbled a
few steps back “How do you know who my father was? Have you been
digging into my past? Are you spying on me?”

Johns slowly stood up. “Calm down, Erin. No
one is spying on you. Marianne told me.”

Erin should have known.

Still, her emotions had reached their boiling
point, and she was far past calming down.

“So if you knew my family’s past, why didn’t
you come clean about what you did for a living?”

The corners around John’s eyes tensed. That
had to be as close to an insulted expression as she was ever going
to get from him. “I never lied. I told you I worked for the
government.”

Erin threw her hands above her head. “I
thought you worked for the IRS.”

“John with the IRS? Really?” Ty’s sarcastic
tone stirred her anger, but what really infuriated her was that he
was obviously right.

She’d seen only what she wanted to see. She’d
deliberately ignored the warning bells that had rung so clearly in
her head the first time she’d seen him. She’d pegged him instantly
as a dangerous man, the kind she knew all too well. But she’d
pushed away her doubts.

Why? Because of the way his biceps filled out
a T-shirt? Because of the way his stare made her feel like a woman
all the way down to her core?

Stupid. She was no better than her mother,
letting emotions and hormones cloud her judgment.

Erin recoiled from the realization. She
was
exactly like her mother. Her house had just been blown
to kingdom come and the Feds were involved. At least no one was
dead.

Not yet
.

Erin felt the blood rush from her head. Her
knees buckled beneath her.

John closed the gap between them in an
instant. He effortlessly took her weight in his arms.

“Sit down,” he said, leading her back to the
couch.

“No,” she said, even as she sank into the
cushions beneath her.

Erin’s eyes began to sting. She raised her
palms to cover them, to physically push back the tears that
threatened. She couldn’t break down here. Not in front of them. She
had to escape to Marianne’s house. There she could fall apart. She
could cry and wail and throw things if she wanted to.