Safe from Harm (22 page)

“Where did you go after you met her on the street?” Tom asked.

Gabe was so disconcerted, he shook his head, needing to stop and get his thoughts in order before answering. “Uh…I went back to Elle's office to pick her up. We'd had dinner, and I dropped her at her office so she could pick up a file. I was getting the car when Sandra approached me.”

“And then?”

Gabe leveled his gaze at his brother, growing angry that the incredible night he'd had with the woman he loved was turning out to be an alibi. “We spent the night together. And before you even ask, yeah, it was the entire night. Give her a call and ask her. I dropped her off at her office this morning.”

Tom dropped his gaze. “She's dealing with her own issues right now.”

Gabe felt rage building in his chest and had to tamp it down in order to grind out, “What the hell do you mean?”

Tom looked up, his expression guarded. “How long have you and Elle been sleeping together?”

Gabe was on his feet in an instant. “What the hell business is it of yours?”

“Turns out it's going to be everyone's business soon,” Tom informed him. “Monroe's planning to ask that Derrick receive a new trial. He's claiming that Elle should've recused herself as prosecutor because you were the lead investigator on the case and she was having a sexual relationship with you at that time.”

“That's bullshit!” Gabe raged. “Elle and I didn't get together until after I was shot.”

“Nothing ever happened before that?” Tom prompted. “She'll confirm that?”

Gabe paced a tight path in front of Tom's desk. “Of course! You know what our relationship has been like. She wouldn't give me a chance—” He came to an abrupt halt. “Ah, fuck.”

“When?” Tom demanded. “
When
did something happen between you two prior to the trial? And who knows about it?”

Gabe laced his fingers behind his neck and leaned his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. “The night Chris died. The bartender at Mulaney's called her. I was shit-faced and she came in to encourage me to leave. She gave me a ride home and one thing led to another.”

“Goddamn it, Gabe!” Tom roared, coming out of his chair.

“We didn't sleep together,” Gabe fired back. “We just… Christ, why am I telling you any of this? I don't have to explain myself to you, you sanctimonious dick!”

“Yeah?” Tom retorted. “You'd better tell me every single
fucking
detail, Gabe. Do you have any clue what it'll do to Chris's widow if we have to go through another trial? If Derrick Monroe walks?”

Gabe shook his head. “We did everything right in that investigation. Derrick won't walk. There're no holes.”

“Except the big fucking crater where Billy Monroe's house used to be,” Tom shot back. “You know as well as I do that the evidence Elle presented against Derrick wasn't ironclad. The eyewitnesses from the diner were a little hazy on some of the details. Only two of them could positively ID Derrick at all. Elle did one hell of a job in that trial and the jury made the right call. But there's no guarantee another jury would.”

Gabe dropped back into the chair and put his face in his hands, his thoughts racing. He lifted his gaze to his brother. “Where's Dad? Abby said he stormed out before I got here. I need to talk to him, make sure he knows this is bullshit.”

Tom heaved a sigh. “He knows it's bullshit just as much as I do, Gabe. You think Dad would ever think you're capable of doing something like this? The Old Man has his faults, but he raised us better than that. In fact, he's on his way to Phil Murray's house to try to get to him before Monroe does.”

Gabe nodded. “Judge Murray's not gonna let Monroe get away with this.”

Tom sat down on the corner of his desk. “Gabe, even if that's the case, this is going to come out. Even the
allegation
of something of this nature is going to affect you and Elle. There'll have to be an investigation.”

“We need to get Sandra Monroe in here somehow, get her side of the story,” Gabe muttered. “She can set the record straight.”

“Her father's bringing her in later today to make her statement against you,” Tom told him. “And he's bringing her brother as a witness.”

Gabe stared at Tom for a long moment, suddenly numb.

He was done. Tom was right. This story was going to hit the media and even though it was patently false, it wouldn't matter. He'd be convicted by public opinion even when it was later proven to be just a fabrication of Jeb Monroe's deranged mind. Gabe's dream of someday taking over as sheriff was over. Everything he'd worked for all these years, all the good he'd done for the community…it was now tainted, sullied.

“I'm going to have to put you on paid leave until after an investigation has been conducted,” Tom told him, his voice strained. “You know that, right?”

Gabe nodded, still in a daze. “Yeah. I know.”

Tom's expression was pained as he said, “If there was anything else I could do…”

Gabe stood and glanced around the room, momentarily forgetting where the door was. “Yeah.”

The next thing he knew, his brother was hugging him. “We're not going to let this son of a bitch get away with this, Gabe,” he ground out, an edge in his voice Gabe had never heard before. “I swear it.”

The grim determination in his brother's voice snapped Gabe out of his stupor. He returned the hug for a moment, but when his throat grew tight with emotion, he tapped out and strode from Tom's office, keeping his eyes forward, not daring to meet any of the questioning stares he felt trained on him.

Right then, his only concern was getting to Elle. He'd be damned if he'd let her go down for his mistakes. He'd take the fight to Monroe personally before he'd let that happen. Fuck protocol. This shit was about to get real.

Elle sat in a daze behind her desk, still unable to believe what she'd heard. There was no way Gabe had done what he'd been accused of. It simply wasn't possible. Even if she'd heard the ludicrous allegations before she'd known him—before she'd fallen in love with him—she wouldn't have believed it for a moment. Now that she knew him like she did, had seen the depth of his heart, the limitlessness of his kindness and compassion, the mere thought of someone making an accusation like this infuriated her.

But what she couldn't understand was why he'd not told her about Sandra Monroe. She'd been unable to completely refute Monroe's allegation of assault against his daughter because she hadn't known anything at all about the encounter. Why the hell hadn't Gabe thought to mention it? Why had he withheld that information?

“Elle?”

She glanced up to her office doorway to see Gabe standing there, his expression so forlorn and haggard he looked far older than his thirty-six years. “Looks like I might be reconsidering that job at the foundation after all.”

He closed the door and came toward her, his hands balled into fists at his side. “They
fired
you?”

She shook her head, still trying to process it all. “No. Well, not yet anyway. I'm being put on paid administrative leave and have been given the option of resigning in order to save face. But odds are good that even if we're cleared of any wrongdoing, this will follow me wherever I go.”

Gabe ran a hand over his hair in agitation, his frustration and anger at the situation a palpable force in the air around him. She hadn't asked what he'd encountered when he'd arrived at the department, but the fact that his strong, proud shoulders had bowed under the weight of the situation was a pretty good indication his morning had been as sucktacular as her own.

She wanted to go to him, put her arms around him and comfort him, feel his arms around her and know a little comfort of her own, but her shock was quickly edging toward anger. “God, Gabe,” she said on a dejected sigh. “Why didn't you tell me you ran into Sandra Monroe last night? When confronted about it, I'm sure I looked like a deer in headlights. I couldn't defend you against something I had no knowledge of. The only thing I could give my boss was the truth about us being together all night. And let me tell ya, that led to quite the interrogation!”

“I'm so sorry, honey,” he said, coming around the desk and reaching out to her, but she held up her hands, avoiding his touch. His face fell at her reaction. “I fucked up, Elle. I get that. But I was trying to protect Sandra, protect
you
.”

“
Protect
me?” she repeated, pushing back from her desk and getting to her feet. “How is keeping me in the dark
protecting
me? We had a deal, Dawson! We were supposed to be in this
together
. You were supposed to keep me in the loop on
every
thing. And yet you decided this would be a good little tidbit to keep from me? Great idea!”

Gabe clenched his jaw, averting his eyes. Then his shook his head before turning his gaze back to hers. “Yeah, Elle, I decided to keep this one from you. Sandra is convinced that you're in danger, and that little ‘tidbit' has me scared shitless, okay? The thought of anything happening to you…” His words trailed off, and he abruptly looked away again, his jaw clenched so hard she could see the muscle twitching in his cheek.

“Well,” she said quietly, “I guess you were right about Monroe making a move. I'd say this certainly qualifies.”

“I don't think this is the end of it,” Gabe told her. “Something tells me that trying to ruin our careers, our reputations, by claiming I assaulted his daughter wasn't part of the plan.”

“Jeremy was following me. He saw us together at the fair,” Elle reminded him. “You don't think he told his father?”

Gabe shook his head. “He might've had something up his sleeve regarding our relationship, but Sandra running into me was a coincidence. It wasn't planned—she was at the pharmacy buying condoms from what I could see in the bag she had. She had no idea I'd happen to be walking by just then. I think he pounced on our encounter and used it to cover his own ass.”

“He beat his own daughter
just
to pin it on you?” Elle said, not bothering to hide her doubt. Any decent prosecutor would shoot that theory full of holes in an instant. “Seems a bit extreme even for Monroe.”

“No, I don't think he beat her just to make me look bad,” Gabe spat. “I think he beat the shit out of her for whatever reason and then decided to use it to his advantage. And he has her so fucking scared that she's willing to come in and give a statement supporting his bullshit story.”

“What the hell are you going to do, Gabe?” Elle asked, finally coming toward him, closing the gap between them, her concern for him trumping her anger at that moment. The thought of him losing his job as a deputy, his entire future in law enforcement potentially destroyed, was heartbreaking enough. But the possibility that he could end up being convicted of a crime he didn't commit had her barely holding her panic and dread in check.

“I'm not taking this shit lying down, I can tell you that,” Gabe assured her, a dangerous edge to his voice.

She eyed him warily, her dread taking on a new slant. “Please tell me that by that you mean allowing your father and brothers to conduct a full investigation and clear your name.”

The look Gabe gave Elle made her stomach drop, and his words pretty much confirmed her fears. “I'm not letting that asshole destroy us, Elle.”

“Gabe, this is not the time to confront Monroe,” she insisted. “Don't talk to him. Don't talk to anyone he knows. If you see him or any of his family on the sidewalk again, you cross the street and don't so much as glance in their direction.”

“Like hell,” Gabe spat. “I'm not just going to slink off with my tail between my legs like I've done something wrong. I refuse to let that bastard win!”

“I'm not telling you this as just the woman who loves you and wants to have a future with you, Gabe,” Elle hissed through clenched teeth, damning that stubborn Dawson pride. “I'm telling you this as an attorney. You confront him and you'll just give him more fuel for the fire. You know that!”

He took her face in his hands, his expression fierce. “I'm not going to make the same mistake I made before. I'm not letting anything happen to
you
.”

Seeing him so emotional made Elle's chest constrict. But if they were going to make this thing between them work—and that seemed like a pretty damned big
if
at the moment—there was one thing he was going to have to understand about her. “I'm not helpless, Gabe.”

Gabe's hands dropped away, a dark scowl on his face as he took a step back, putting distance between them. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I realize that.”

“I don't need to be rescued,” she insisted. “But
you
might need to be if you don't listen to me. Right now I'm more concerned about keeping you out of prison, for crying out loud! So would you stop being a knight in shining armor for one goddamned minute and try to be reasonable for once?”

“
Reasonable?
” he retorted, his voice filling her office. “So you want me to just bend over and take it? Let Monroe get away with ruining both of us? With hurting
you?
Fuck. That.”

Elle huffed. God, the man could be infuriating! “That's not what I'm saying.”

“Yeah? Well, it sure as hell sounds that way,” Gabe barked. “You might be perfectly happy to just throw your hands up in the air and give up without a fight, but that's
not
the Elle McCoy I know,
not
the woman I fell in love with.”

Elle straightened, hurt that he'd think she wasn't pissed as hell and determined to do her damnedest to fight back. Did he really think she'd give up that easily? That she'd give up on
him
that easily? Her throat was tight as she said, “Maybe you don't know me as well as you thought.”

He stared at her for a long moment before giving her a sharp nod. “Yeah. Maybe I don't.”

With that, he stormed from her office, slamming the door behind him. Elle stood watching the door for several moments, half expecting him to come back in and take her in his arms, to whisper an apology and assure her they'd get through this, they'd figure it out. But when he didn't return, she dropped back into her chair and put her face in her hands.

She desperately wanted to either burst into tears or punch a hole in the wall. Maybe both. Just get it out of her system so she could clear her head. And that wasn't going to happen while she was at the office.

She fished her phone out of her handbag and brought up her recent call list. She briefly considered calling Gabe to make sure he was okay, but just as quickly discarded the idea, deciding they both needed a little time to cool off before they talked things over again. Instead, she hit the number below it.

When the call connected and she heard the familiar voice on the other end, the tears of anger and frustration Elle had been holding back spilled onto her cheeks.

* * *

Elle slammed down the shot glass and motioned to her aunt Charlotte for another. “One more.”

Charlotte gave Elle a disapproving look as she removed the upside-down glass from the counter and wiped up the tequila that had spilled out. “That's your fourth, baby girl, and it's just noon.”

Elle ran a hand through her hair, which had to be a frizzy mess by now. Her aunt had picked her up from her office three hours earlier, but when she'd pulled into Elle's driveway, Elle had realized she didn't want to be at home, didn't want to think about the blissful moments she and Gabe had shared there, didn't want to smell his aftershave on her couch—or her clothes.

So she'd ditched her pantsuit for jeans and a T-shirt and had joined Charlotte at the pub, filling in her aunt on all that had taken place with Gabe, with Monroe, with the colossal clusterfuck that was her career at that moment. She'd thought it would help ease the ache in the center of her chest that had been there since Gabe had stormed out, but the wound was rawer now, the ache more intense. The shots of tequila had done nothing at all to dull it.

She glared at her aunt, but there wasn't much ire in it. “I'm barely buzzed. I think I deserve a bit more than that, don't you?”

“I think there's a lot you deserve, Elle,” Charlotte said on a sigh. “But one helluva hangover isn't on the list.”

Elle scoffed. “I haven't had a hangover since my twenty-first birthday.” She made a grab for the bottle, but her aunt calmly moved it back to the shelf.

“Call Gabe,” Charlotte ordered when she turned back to the bar, sliding Elle's phone toward her hand. “You know you're just going to sit here and torture yourself over everything until you do.”

Elle shook her head. “I'm the last person he wants to hear from right now.”

“You sure about that?” Charlotte drawled. “Maybe
you're
the one trying to avoid a conversation.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don't be ridiculous. I'm not avoiding anything.”

Charlotte's brows lifted. “No? Sounds to me like you might regret a few of the things you said.”

“Are you taking his side?” Elle asked. “Seriously?”

The bell on the door jingled as the beginnings of the lunch crowd started coming in. Charlotte lifted her hand in greeting. “Be right with ya, folks.” She then turned her attention back to Elle. “I'm not taking anyone's
side
. Jeb Monroe is a son of a bitch and what you and Gabe are going through because of Jeb's bullshit has me ready to march up to his front door and punch that bastard right in the balls.”

Elle laughed, getting a mental image of her aunt nailing Monroe in his family jewels. She had no doubt Charlotte could've made the man sing soprano without any difficulty, too.

“But,” Charlotte continued, “my point is I love you and Gabe both and want you to be happy. The way I see it, your chances at happiness are better if you're fighting against
Monroe
and not each other.”

Elle sighed. “I know. I just…I want this to work, Charlotte. I love him. I'm
in
love with him. But he can't keep treating me like I'm helpless.”

“Well, I think you made that pretty clear,” Charlotte told her. “Now maybe it's time to give him the chance to prove he got the message.”

Elle glanced at her phone. Charlotte was right.
As usual
. Maybe Elle
was
avoiding calling Gabe. But her phone hadn't exactly been ringing off the hook either. “If he calls, I'll talk to him.”

“And if he doesn't call?” Charlotte prompted.

Elle shrugged. “He invited us to Kyle and Abby's tonight for dinner. I'm still going—they're my friends, regardless of what's going on with Gabe and me. I'll just talk to him then.”

Charlotte shook her head and grabbed her notepad and pen to go take her customers' orders. “Sometimes it takes a little courage to set aside pride and be the first to apologize, baby girl,” she said. “Doesn't make him any less wrong for what he did or what he said. Just means you're opening the door for him to come crawling in on his knees.”

Elle laughed again, earning a good-humored wink from her aunt. Then she picked up her phone and purse, stuffed a twenty into her aunt's tip jar when she was sure Charlotte wasn't watching, then headed out front to call a cab to take her home.

But before she could place a call, her phone began to ring. She glanced at the number, not recognizing it. Frowning, she answered, “Hello?”

“Ms. McCoy?”