Chapter 22 #2
He frowned at me and then squatted to squeeze both my ankles.
“Bray, I don’t have it,” I said to the top of his head. His hair was mussed, maybe by the wind, and I was tempted to run my fingers through it.
“Good. Thanks for following directions, for once.”
“Hey, I’ve done everything you’ve said since we left Del Rio.”
“Yes, you have. Good job. Now, let’s go. We’ve got a short window to make this happen.”
I followed him to the car with my skin on fire from where he’d dragged his palms over my body. Even my ankles tingled.
Simmons drove us down a winding road from the hill, and we headed north.
We passed the prison and crossed the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge into the East Bay.
By the time we parked in a dark lot crowded with shipping crates near the shoreline, my heart was beating so hard, I had to calm it with several deep breaths.
Bray reached over and squeezed my clammy hand.
“Sorry. I don’t usually get this nervous on jobs, but this is—”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I understand. Simmons, could you give us another minute?”
Simmons nodded and climbed out of the driver’s seat, leaving us alone in the car. The dark night crowded in, save for the scant streetlights casting yellow pools on the concrete outside.
“You’re going to be fine, Erin,” Bray said and leaned down to meet my eyes. I was staring at my lap, still breathing deeply. My hands had started to shake. He squeezed them with both of his.
I took another deep breath right as headlights flashed across us.
“They’re here,” he announced. He went to reach for the door, but I refused to let go of his hands.
“Could I—?” Nerves shook my voice as he turned back to me.
“Could you what?”
An embarrassed heat curled into my face, but I forced the words out. “Could I cash in on one of those hugs you offered?”
His rigid posture softened, and he gave me a sympathetic smile.
“Sure.” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and I tucked myself to his middle, weaving my arms around his back, inside his windbreaker.
His signature scent of minty soap filled my nose where I pressed it to his chest and inhaled.
A soft, warm sound escaped his throat and almost undid me on the spot.
I pulled back before we got too carried away, though I wanted nothing more than to stay squeezed against him. When he held on for a second longer, reluctant to let me go, I almost did stay. But we had a job to do.
“Hang back for a second,” Bray instructed when he turned for the door.
I did as I was told and straightened my jacket and my hair, which had gotten mussed in our embrace.
Cold air poured in the door when he opened it. I let the night, gritty with fog and salt, wash over my hot skin to clear my mind. My eyes were closed when I heard Bray’s foot scrape against the concrete. I heard a van door slide open nearby and the sound of jangling chains.
And then, the voice that still haunted my dreams.
“What the hell is this? If you boys wanted to whack me, you coulda just handed someone a shiv. An accident, you know? No need to drag me out into the cold like this.”
My father. Always half joking, but always serious at the same time. The deep rumble of his voice hit me like a punch to the gut. I gasped, and then steeled myself against any sway he might still have over me.
“Mr. Daniels,” Bray said from outside the partly opened car door. “I’m Agent Bray. We brought you here tonight to ask you a few questions.”
Silence filled the air, and I knew my father was sizing Bray up. What kind of threat was he? What were his weaknesses, his tells, his vulnerabilities? How could he be played? Used?
Thought of my father doing anything to Bray filled my veins with courage. And anger. I slid across the back seat and reached for the door.
“Go ahead and ask,” my father said, and I could hear the sinister sneer in his voice. The I’m smarter than you condescension had been the melody of my childhood. He already thought he’d won the game we’d only just started playing.
But we had a move he didn’t know about.
“Not me,” Bray said. He pulled open the door at the same time I pushed it from the inside.
I stepped out onto the pavement, both my feet firm, and stared at the man who’d ruined my life.
“Hi, Dad.”
His jaw fell open. True shock filled his face hardened by years behind bars. The only other time I’d seen his mask slip was that night in the hotel room. A surge of pride swelled my chest at the thought I could have that effect on him. The master of grift.
He wore an orange jumpsuit and had chains linking his ankles and wrists and wrapping around his waist. His dark hair streaked with gray had grown wavy and long, but his beard was cropped short. His blue eyes still shone like constantly scheming torches. Even so, he was truly stunned to see me.
“Erin.” The word floated on the air like a ghost. He continued gaping at me, taking in every inch of the woman I’d become. “My God, you’re beautiful. What are you doing here?”
My jaw had grown tight with resistance at the same time my traitorous heart tugged toward him. I hadn’t known how I’d react when I saw him in the flesh, but I expected it to be painful and complicated. So far, the experience was delivering.
“We’re here to ask you some questions,” Bray filled in for me when I didn’t respond.
My father glanced at him then looked back to me. “We? Baby, don’t tell me you work for them now.”
The nickname slid down my spine like ice. Instantly, I was a child again. “You didn’t leave me much of a choice,” I hissed between my teeth.
He took a step forward but the chains around his ankles, along with the arm one of his guards held out, stopped him.
“Baby, I know I made mistakes, and I’m sorry.
It’s just been so long. I can’t believe you’re here.
” He lifted his arms as far as they could go, like he was reaching out to hug me.
We still stood some ten feet apart. Bray shifted his weight toward me, and the guards reached for my father once more.
The complex push and pull inside me tipped me over into a decision I hoped I wouldn’t regret. “It’s okay,” I said.
My father’s head snapped up; his eyes met mine. I saw a glint in them, a plea, and it tugged on my last resisting heart-string.
“It’s okay,” I said again. I nodded at Bray and at the guards. “It’s been years. Would it be okay if I gave him a hug?”
“Erin—” Bray started to protest, but I shook my head.
“I want to. It’s okay.”
The guards looked to Bray, because clearly, he was the one in charge.
“Are you sure?” he asked me.
“I’m sure.”
Bray released a stiff breath and nodded at the guards. “Just his wrists.”
My father shrugged out of their grip. “You heard him, fellas. My baby wants to hug her old man.”
One of the guards pulled at the keys connected to his belt by a retractable cord and set about unlocking the cuffs around my father’s wrists. The smile on my father’s face continued to stretch until it matched the crescent moon in the sky.
I braced myself once more and took a step forward. The primitive part of my brain battled over screaming at me to run away, or to run into my original protector’s arms. Each step was a conflicted fight, but soon, I was standing right in front of him.
“Hi, Dad,” I said again.
With a deep breath, he softened into the man I once knew.
The one who’d give me piggybacks and buy me ice cream and tell me ghost stories in the backyard tent.
Not the one who’d served me up as bait, nearly gotten me killed, and stolen my innocence.
I let myself believe as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders he was that original man, and he really was happy to see me.
“My sweet girl. I’ve missed you so much.” His voice turned warm and paternal as his arms circled my back. He pulled me close, the chains around his waist digging into my belly, but his upper body otherwise free.
Some sliver of my hardened heart had missed him too. And it felt good to be held in his arms. I lingered and let him give me another squeeze.
“My good girl,” he whispered for only me to hear. Then his hand dropped to my waist, and in a practiced flash, grabbed the gun I had stashed in the back of my waistband. Before I could blink, he spun me around and had one arm around my throat and the other holding the gun to my temple.
“Drop it!” Bray shouted and reached for his holster.
I saw a full spectrum of emotion play out on his face when he realized his holster was empty because the gun pointed at my head was his, and I’d taken it when we’d hugged in the car.
Guilt tore through me, but it had to be done.
He gaped at me before his face bent in pained anger. “God damn it, Erin.”
Simmons had moved in from where he’d been on standby, gun now aimed at my father. Both of the guards had pulled weapons too. All four of them were aimed in my direction.
“Easy,” my father said and pivoted us in a circle. “Everyone just take a breath, now.” The barrel pressing into my temple brought me back to that night in the hotel room. The last time I’d been inches from death, except this time, it was at the hands of the man who’d given me life.
I struggled to breathe against his grip and my pounding heart. Bray continued glaring at me, now with his hands up in a plea not to shoot.
“Let her go,” he commanded and took a step forward.
My father swung the gun out to aim at him and the others, and then pinned it back against my temple.
“I’ll let her go, but I’m going with her.
” He turned his head inward to kiss my cheek.
His beard scratched against my face like sandpaper.
“Thank you for this gift, baby. Sorry it had to go down this way, but you’re my ticket out. Always have been.”
“Let her go!” Bray commanded again.
My father chuckled a sound darker than the night. “This one seems to like you, baby. Is that true? You got a thing for my daughter, Agent Bray?” he taunted with a nod at him.
Bray took another step forward.