Safe from Harm (21 page)

“What are you keeping from me?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “And don't tell me nothing. That would just be insulting.”

He ran a hand over his hair and she could tell he was considering his words carefully. “I think Monroe is about to make a move—worse than what we've seen up to now. I think up to this point, he's just been toying with us, trying to make us paranoid until we didn't have a moment's peace. But I think whatever else he has brewing is the real deal and that scares the shit out of me. The fact that I don't have a single fucking clue what he's planning to pull makes it that much worse. I don't know any more than that, Elle. I really don't. I tried to find out more, but it was a no-go.”

She leaned upon one elbow, peering down at him. “You have a source?”

He nodded, but it was hesitant. “Anonymous.”

“We need to bring this person in,” she said, her words coming out in a rush. “We need to find out what he knows, get a statement. It could be the break we were looking for.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, it was a no-go,” he reminded her. “The informant was afraid of Monroe and was reluctant to make any waves. I mean, hell, can you blame them? Billy Monroe decided to cooperate with us and inform against his uncle, and now they can't find enough of him to even bury.”

Elle heaved a frustrated sigh. “Well, this person came to you once. Maybe he will again.”

Gabe shook his head. “Something tells me that won't be the case.”

“Give me a name,” Elle pressed.

“Elle—”

“I'll look into it myself,” she continued, “see if I can convince the person to meet with me.”

“Let it go,” he said, his tone sharp. When she pulled back a little, taken off guard by how adamant he was, he closed his eyes for a moment before saying in a much calmer tone, “I go back to work tomorrow. I'll see what else I can dig up while I'm there.”

“And you'll share what you find?” she prompted.

He gave her a terse nod. “Scout's honor.”

She arched a single brow at him. “You are a lot of things, Gabe Dawson. But a boy scout is
not
one of them.”

The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back and Gabe was grinning down at her. “Thank God for that.”

Gabe stood in front of the mirror and stretched one arm across his chest and then the other, the new uniform he'd been issued feeling a little stiff. Or maybe it was just the fact that he hadn't been in his Class A's for several weeks. The material felt coarser, scratching the back of his neck; the weight of his gun belt felt heavier somehow.

Then Elle appeared in the mirror behind him, her gorgeous hair pulled back into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck, her tailored charcoal-gray pantsuit accentuating the tantalizing curves of her figure. Her eyes caught his in the mirror and an adorable flush flooded her cheeks.

“Wow,” she breathed. “I'd almost forgotten how good you look in a uniform.”

He laughed and turned to gather her into his arms. “And here I was thinking I looked like a tool. You're good for my ego, Elle McCoy.”

She tapped his chin with her index finger. “I don't think your ego needs any help, lover. But I'll go ahead and tell you that you look seriously hot anyway.”

He pressed a kiss to her jaw near her ear, loving the soft little sigh she made, wishing the workday wasn't calling them away from bed so soon. “You have plans this evening?”

Her arms went around his neck, pulling him closer. “Mmm-hmm. And they involve a hot bubble bath.”

“Yeah?” he murmured, nuzzling the curve of her throat. “Want some company?”

She pulled back enough to give him a sultry grin. “Sure. Know anyone who'd be interested?”

He bent his head and captured her mouth in a slow kiss, deepening it when she nipped at his bottom lip. When his watch alarm started beeping, they both sighed in disappointment, then chuckled. He pressed his forehead to hers. “We should probably go.”

She reluctantly pulled out of his embrace. “Guess so,” she agreed as she turned to leave the bathroom. “Give me a ride to the office?”

Although a ride to the office wasn't the kind of ride he had on his mind at that moment, he was happy to give her a lift since her car was still in the shop. “Only if you agree to accompany me to my brother's tonight.”

She slung her laptop bag over her shoulder and grabbed her handbag. “Sure. For what?”

Gabe turned on the house alarm and followed her out onto the porch, locking the door behind him before responding. “Abby and Kyle wanted to throw a dinner party at their place. Back to work celebration for me or something, I guess.”

She offered him a smile. “I'm glad to see you and Kyle trying to get along better.”

Gabe shrugged. “I love the little shit—I hated having that tension between us. But once he lost the massive chip on his shoulder over everything that happened when Mom was sick, we were able to bury the hatchet.”

“Well, then, dinner would be great,” Elle mused as she headed to his department Tahoe. “So…maybe we should invite Charlotte. Unless you think Kyle and Abby would mind.”

He gave her a sidelong glance, noticing she was trying just a little too hard to appear nonchalant. “She's always welcome, of course. But why do I get the impression you have ulterior motives beyond just wanting to include your aunt? What are you up to?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. I just thought it would be nice. I assume your dad will be there?”

“I guess so.” He eyed her for a moment before starting up the Tahoe and pulling out of the driveway. “Where are you going with this?”

She cleared her throat and tried to look casual, fiddling with the hem of her suit jacket as she said, “Nowhere. Not really.” But when he let silence hang between them she cracked like an egg. “Well, okay—I just thought maybe it would be nice for them to finally go public, for crying out loud. I mean, it's got to be tough sneaking around—”

“Sneaking around?” Gabe sent a startled glance her way. He'd had no idea what she was thinking, but he sure as shit hadn't anticipated an implication his dad was banging Charlotte on the sly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The look she gave him was equally incredulous. “You didn't realize…? Oh boy.”

“What?” he demanded. “You think there's something going on between the Old Man and Charlotte?”

She gave him a disbelieving look. “Seriously? You haven't noticed? He calls her
Charlie
, Gabe. No one else ever calls my aunt that.”

He shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the conversation. “So what? They've known each other their entire lives.”

“It's not like they were just passing acquaintances,” Elle pointed out. “They were high school sweethearts and have remained close friends all these years—more than friends for a while, I'm guessing. Have you really never even entertained the possibility that they'd rekindle their romance?”

He shifted in his seat, wondering why the hell the thought of his dad having a secret girlfriend was pissing him off. Especially when it was a woman who'd been like an aunt to the Dawson boys their whole lives and had often been a surrogate mother to them when their own mother had gotten sick. Was it because Mac hadn't bothered telling any of his sons he was seeing someone after all these years? Or was it because it somehow felt like it was a betrayal to Gabe's mother?

Or maybe he was just predisposed to be irritable because he was returning to duty, only to be parked behind a desk, thanks to his elder brother's newly discovered cautious behavior. Regardless, he left Elle's question unanswered and sulked the rest of the way to her office, only rallying from his piss-poor mood when she leaned across the seat to give him a good-bye kiss and whisper an “I love you” against his lips.

But his mood continued to darken as he drove to the department and pulled into a parking spot. He sat behind the wheel for several moments, psyching himself up, trying to tell himself being a desk jockey was just temporary, that Tom would come around after a week or two and he'd be back out on the road. And if that didn't work, he'd go over Tom's head and take his thoughts on the matter straight to the Old Man.

Their father had made it clear from the moment he'd promoted Tom to the executive deputy position that he was their boss. No questions. No bullshit. If anyone had a problem, they'd have to take it up with Tom. But screw that noise. Gabe had never backed down from anything. He sure as hell wasn't going to now, when his career was on the line.

Setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders, ready to take on whatever bullshit he was going to encounter once he walked in the door, Gabe got out of the Tahoe and strode inside. He was so determined to appear unconcerned with his temporary desk duty that he didn't at first notice the cautious, anxious stares from his colleagues. But after catching the eye of more than one deputy who quickly looked away or offered only a slight jerk of the chin in response to his nod of greeting, his purposeful strides slowed until he came to a halt in the middle of the room.

Gabe hadn't expected a surprise welcome-back party—he wasn't quite the egomaniacal dick people seemed to think he was—but a fucking hello would've been nice.

What the hell…?

He sent a frown toward his brother's office. Tom's door was closed, but his light was on, so Gabe knew his brother was there.

Shit—when
wasn't
Tom there these days?

“Welcome back.”

Gabe turned his head to see Deputy Abby Morrow—the sheriff department's digital forensics investigator and his brother Kyle's girlfriend—sitting at her desk. She offered him a grin that looked forced. “It's good to see you up and around again.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. “What the hell's going on this morning? Someone piss in the coffee?”

Abby sent a glance toward Tom's office, then leaned forward a little and tucked a wisp of shoulder-length blond hair behind her ear. “Tom wants to see you—and you might want to wear a flak jacket.”

His brows shot up. “What? This involves
me
? I've only been in the office for two minutes. I haven't had time to piss off anybody yet.”

“Your dad got a call this morning,” Abby explained, keeping her voice low. “Don't know what about, but we could hear him yelling at whoever it was from all the way out here. He called Tom into his office afterward. Tom stormed out a few minutes later and demanded we send you in as soon as you got here, then slammed his door.”

Gabe grunted. “Well, that's encouraging. Where's the Old Man?”

“Left,” Abby informed him. “No clue where he went, but he looked like he wanted to kill someone.”

Shit
.

Gabe knew that look well. The last time he'd seen it was when the Old Man had caught him and Joe sneaking in after curfew coming home from Eric Malone's party, where they'd consumed at least a case of beer between them—probably more. To make matters worse, Gabe had still been completely blitzed when he'd driven his younger brother home.

That was the first and last time Gabe had ever driven after drinking. He'd learned his lesson. The Old Man had made damned sure of that when he'd put both boys into the back of his patrol car and driven them to the jail to sit in the drunk tank overnight. Gabe still remembered dozing off on the cell bench and waking up to some boozer lying on the floor at his feet, puking all over his shoes.

Yeah, no way in hell was he ever gonna go through that shit again. Even if he hadn't become a deputy, that experience alone would've kept from getting behind the wheel when he was trashed and putting someone he loved at risk. Now he either caught a ride home or took a cab. Period.

He frowned, wondering who was on the receiving end of the Old Man's fury now. And why. “And that's all you know about what's going on?”

“Sorry,” Abby said on a regretful sigh. “I wish I could give you more to go on before sending you in.”

He shook his head. “Yeah. No problem. Thanks for the heads-up.” He rapped his knuckles on her desk and donned his most unconcerned smile. “Well, guess I'd better get my ass in there before Tommy throws another tantrum.”

Based on the way Abby grimaced and suddenly became very interested in what was on her laptop screen, Gabe suspected he'd already lingered too long. When he turned to see Tom standing in his office doorway, arms crossed over his chest and looking like he was barely keeping a lid on his urge to go completely apeshit, that pretty much confirmed it.

Gabe didn't even wait for Tom to say a word. He headed into his brother's office and dropped down into the chair in front of the desk. As soon as he heard the door close, he drawled, “So, thanks for rolling out the red carpet, Bro. You all really know how to welcome a guy back.”

Tom took his seat behind the desk and ran a hand through his dark hair before heaving a harsh sigh. “How do you know Sandra Monroe?”

Well, fuck.

“I don't,” Gabe said, his stomach sinking even as he said it. “I met her yesterday on the sidewalk outside of the pharmacy on Fulton. She came up to me and asked if I was Gabe Dawson. Then she told me she was afraid her dad was planning something. She didn't know what, but she was worried for my safety and Elle's. And she was worried about her brothers getting hurt. I tried to get her to come into the department with me to make a statement, but her brother Jeremy showed up and made her leave with him.”

Tom pulled a hand down his face and gave Gabe a pleading look. “Please tell me you didn't have your hands on her when her brother got there.”

Gabe closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging. He cursed under his breath, dread clenching his gut as he realized where this was probably going. “Of course not. But you know it's going to be my word against theirs.”

“Jesus, Gabe,” Tom hissed. “Are you fucking
kidding
me? Jeb Monroe's
daughter
!”

Gabe shot to his feet and jabbed a finger at his brother. “Now just wait a goddamned minute! I didn't do anything more than talk to her. And
she
approached
me
. What exactly are you accusing me of?”

Tom shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. “It's not me who's doing the accusing. It's her father. He's saying you assaulted her.”

Gabe straightened, his jaw falling open in his shock. “What?”

Tom shook his head, looking sick at having to even say the words. “Monroe is claiming you made an advance on Sandra, tried to force yourself on her, and when she refused, you roughed her up.”

“That's fucking crazy,” Gabe breathed, dropping into the chair. “You know I'd never lay a hand on a woman, no matter who she is. And I've never even seen Sandra Monroe before yesterday. Not only that—we were in the middle of the sidewalk. Check the pharmacy's security cameras and you'll be able to see what happened.”

Tom nodded. “Already working on that. What am I going to see, Gabe? Anything I need to worry about?”

“I had my hands on her upper arms,” Gabe explained, shaking his head in dismay. “She was shivering with fear. I was just trying to convince her she'd be safe if she talked with us. I was trying to console her.”

“How hard were you gripping her arms?” Tom asked.

Gabe's brows came together in a confused frown. “Not at all. She was so skittish, I was barely even touching her.”

Tom turned his laptop around to show Gabe the screen. “These are photos Monroe sent to the Old Man this morning.”

Gabe cursed a blue streak when he saw the images before him. The pretty little blond he'd met the evening before was a bruised and bloody mess. Her arms bore heinous black and yellow and purple bruises. Her bottom lip was split, blood covering her chin. Her left eye was swollen shut. And a close-up of her hands showed broken and bloodied fingernails and other wounds that made it appear she'd put up one hell of a fight.

“I didn't do this,” Gabe rasped. “Jesus, Tom. You know I didn't.”