Safe from Harm (10 page)

“Call me when you get to Charlotte's, will ya?” he asked. “So I know you're okay.”

“I will,” she promised. “And, Gabe?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.” There was a slight pause before she added quietly, “I worry about you, too.”

Before he could respond, she hung up, leaving him sitting there in stunned silence at her admission. After a moment, he pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it, wondering if he'd heard her right.

“Thanks, Aunt Charlotte.”

Charlotte pressed a kiss to the top of Elle's head and set the mug of hot chocolate in front of her on the table. “Anytime, baby girl. You know you're always welcome here. I'm more concerned by the fact that Gabe thinks you shouldn't be staying alone. Maybe you should stay here for a while.”

Elle waved away her aunt's words. “We've both been through a lot. He's just being overly cautious.”

Charlotte pursed her lips. “If Gabe's worried, there's a damn good reason to be. And seeing as how my security system here is better than the one you have at your house, you're safer here. Besides, Mac sends extra patrols around to check in on me.”

Elle's brows lifted. “He does?”

Charlotte's lips curved into an amused smile. “He thinks I don't know. But ever since the break-in down the street a few years ago, he's been encouraging me to move to a better neighborhood.”

“This neighborhood has one of the lowest incidents of crime in the county,” Elle reminded her. “Plus, you have fantastic neighbors who keep an eye on each other's houses and a great crime-watch program—not that there's really been much to report over the years. Where does he think you'd be
any
safer?”

“I doubt he'd think I was safe enough if I were right next door to him,” Charlotte told her with a wink. “Maybe being overly cautious when it comes to the people they care about runs in the Dawson family.”

“Yeah, well, I think it's rubbing off on you, Aunt Charlotte.”

“If I didn't love you, I wouldn't worry.” She paused, as if struggling with whether she could continue with the words that Elle could plainly see were right on the tip of her tongue. But her aunt was never one to keep her opinions to herself, so Elle wasn't entirely surprised when Charlotte added, “Maybe you should reconsider that job offer.”

Elle bristled, wishing she'd never told her aunt about the opportunity she'd been offered just a few days before the shooting. She'd been surprised when her friend Cassandra had offered her the position of executive director at the local nonprofit that helped women and children rebuild their lives after experiencing violent crimes. Elle had volunteered there since it had opened several years before and had seen it grow from a handful of people to a thriving organization that made a difference in a lot of lives. But she'd made a promise to herself years before that she'd become an attorney. And giving that up somehow seemed like a betrayal. “Charlotte—”

“Hear me out,” her aunt insisted. “I just want you to be safe and happy, Elle. This is not the first time you've been threatened.”

“No, it isn't,” she agreed. “But I can't live in fear every time I'm assigned a case. The odds of anything ever happening—”

“Clearly don't mean a damned thing,” Charlotte pointed out, taking a seat across from her. “Mark Monroe proved that, didn't he?”

Elle sighed, really having no way to refute her aunt's argument. “You of all people should understand why I went into this profession. My family's killer did so little time he practically
walked
. I don't want that to happen to other families.”

Charlotte reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Baby, you've done a lot of good for the people of this county; there's no disputing that. But helping the women and children of this area when they need someone most would still be honoring your family's legacy.”

She was right, of course. The woman had had a way of reasoning Elle into a corner in every single argument they'd ever had. Elle had a feeling Charlotte would've been a terror in the courtroom had she chosen to go into law.

“But if I take another job, I want it to be because I feel like it's where I can do the most good,” Elle told her. “I don't want it to be because I'm scared to do my current one.”

Charlotte's expression softened. “I can certainly respect that, baby girl. You remind me so much of your mom sometimes. She was never one to back down from a challenge.”

Elle grinning. “Runs in the family.”

“Will you just promise me you'll reconsider the position?” Charlotte pressed. “Will you at least think about it some more?”

“Fine,” Elle said, relenting. “I'll consider it. But I'm not making any promises.”

“Fair enough.” Charlotte took a sip from her own mug and her eyes sparkled, giving Elle a heads-up that the conversation was about to lighten. “So…back to Gabe Dawson.”

“He's just a friend,” Elle insisted. “Barely even that, really.”

Charlotte grinned at her. “Mmm-hmm.”

Elle groaned. “Would you stop doing that?”

Charlotte chuckled. “Sure. As soon as you stop denying what's going on between you two.”

Elle sighed and gave her aunt with an understanding look. “Look, I know you worry about me and want me to eventually have a relationship that lasts more than a couple of months, but Gabe Dawson isn't the guy for me.”

Charlotte leaned back in her chair, scrutinizing Elle with eyes the same shade of green as hers. “Want to know what I think?”

Elle's lips twitched with amusement as she blew across the top of her hot chocolate. “I learned a long time ago that you're going to tell me anyway, no matter how I answer that question.”

Charlotte winked at her. “You always were a smart girl.”

“Another trait that runs in the family,” Elle replied. “So this sage wisdom is…?”

Charlotte pressed her lips together for a moment before answering, “I think Gabe is a lot like his daddy. Mac had more than his fair share of pretty young women on his arm when we were younger. I'd love to say I was his only high school sweetheart, but that would be a lie. I was just the last. Mac was quite the charmer back in the day. Still is.”

Elle's brows lifted. “Mac? He doesn't exactly strike me as the romantic type.”

Charlotte leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, a dreamy expression coming into her eyes. “You'd be surprised. Oh, it's a side he doesn't show to many, that's for sure. But I would've married that man in a heartbeat had he asked.”

“But then he met Gabe's mom,” Elle supplied.

Charlotte nodded. “Theresa was the kind of woman Mac needed at that time of his life. I would've made a terrible cop's wife back then. I was far too reckless and headstrong, and valued my independence and freedom way too much to settle down and raise a family.”

Now it was Elle's turn to scrutinize. “And now? What if Mac were to waltz in here and sweep you off your feet?”

Charlotte laughed. “First of all, Mac wouldn't
waltz
anywhere. He'd kick in the door and barge right on in. And he wouldn't take no for an answer if I turned him down. He's persistent, that man.”

Elle shook her head. “Charlotte Mulaney, I think you're just as much in love with Mac Dawson as you ever were. Does he know?”

Charlotte flushed to the roots of her hair. “He knows I care about him. When you've known each other as long as we have, some things just don't need to be said.”

“Sure they do,” Elle argued. “Does he feel the same way?”

Charlotte's expression clouded over for a moment before she forced a smile. “Oh, I'm sure he does, in his way. We never stopped being the best of friends, and we enjoy our time together. But I don't know that he'll ever get over losing Theresa.”

“She's been gone a long time,” Elle pointed out. “Maybe he just doesn't know how to tell you what he really feels.”

Charlotte laughed outright at this. “Oh, don't be so sure. Mac has always known how to woo a girl. But we're a little old for flowers and poetry at this point.”

“Mac? A poet?” Elle said, finding such a thing hard to believe.

Charlotte's smile widened. “Someday I'll drag out my memory box and show you a few of the verses he wrote for me.”

Elle shook her head. “Wow. I stand corrected.”

“My point is, I see the same qualities in Gabe,” Charlotte continued. “Of all the boys, he's probably the most romantic. And by that, I don't mean the other boys don't know how to treat the women they love and make them feel special. I can tell that just by looking at how Joe and Sadie and Kyle and Abby are together. But Gabe…” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I think Gabe has an idealized vision of what love is supposed to be like. He saw how much Mac adored Theresa, saw everything he did to be there for her, to be the rock for their family when she was sick. I think he won't settle for any less of a steadfast love.”

Elle scoffed as she took a sip of her cocoa. “You wouldn't know it by how quickly he goes through women.”

Charlotte wagged a finger at her niece. “That's where you've got it wrong, baby girl. Gabe doesn't move on quickly because he's fickle. He moves on because he realizes she's not the one.”

Elle tucked away that little bit of intel to muse over later. Her aunt was one of the most insightful women Elle had ever known, but she was also biased when it came to the Dawson men. She'd been a surrogate aunt to them their entire lives, especially after their mother had died. And her affection for Mac certainly made her more lenient when it came to the foibles of his offspring. But the jury was definitely still out for Elle.

“And what about you?” she asked her aunt, eager to divert the subject away from her own interactions with the Dawson clan. “Do you ever regret that you never married and had children of your own?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Not in the least. You're every bit a daughter to me as if I'd given birth to you myself. And as for marriage…” Here she paused and sighed. “Well, everything turned out as it was meant to.” She rose and came around to Elle, taking her face in her hands. “And I'm sure it will for you, too—whatever path you choose.”

Elle grinned as her aunt pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thanks, Charlotte. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

Charlotte pulled a face. “Oh, you'd do just fine. You're a fighter, Elle. You always have been. And you'll get through this mess with that son of a bitch Jeb Monroe, too. And as far as Gabe goes? Well,
I
certainly feel better knowing that he's watching over you.”

* * *

Gabe jolted awake and glanced around the living room, wondering what it was that had awakened him so suddenly from his favorite dream for the past year or so—the one where he and Elle were tangled together on his bed, half-naked and straining toward each other, desperately wanting each other but holding back.

His frustration at being interrupted was only dampened by the adrenaline pumping in his veins as his fight-or-flight mode kicked in. Even though his sofa wasn't directly across from the windows or his front door, Gabe suddenly felt very exposed. He moved silently, grasping the Glock he'd set on the sofa next to him after talking to Elle and ensuring she'd made it safely to Charlotte's.

He'd locked his doors and set his alarm before dozing off on the couch, but something had brought him out of a deep sleep—and the dream. But as he sat there, listening intently for another sound, he didn't hear anything.

He cursed under his breath and managed to get to his feet, grabbing one of his crutches as he limped to the window and peeked through the blinds. The neighborhood was quiet. Nobody was out and about at this late hour.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Where the hell are you, you son of a bitch?”

After a few moments, he made his way through the rest of the house, checking the doors, peering outside through other windows to get a different vantage point. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Shit, for all he knew, just the normal pops and creaks of a fifty-year-old house settling could've been what he'd heard.

He heaved a relieved sigh and checked his watch.

Three a.m.

Christ, it was going to be a long night if every little noise was going to have him on edge like this. But now that he was completely awake, sleep was out of the question. He made his way to his office and powered on his laptop.

An hour later, he'd checked both his work and personal email, and had caught up on the news he'd missed while in the hospital, but the adrenaline-infused tension still had every muscle in his body taut and ready for a fight.

He heaved a frustrated sigh.

Hell, he might as well make use of the time if he wasn't going to be going back to sleep. Besides, some of his best investigating was done on sleepless nights just like this one, when his thoughts wouldn't stop churning, trying to connect the dots that would help him solve the most stubborn cases.

He brought up a browser and, after a couple of minutes, found his way to Jeb Monroe's blog. If he was gonna bring the bastard down, the first thing he needed to do was really get into his head. The antigovernment tirades on his blog were a good place to start.

Four hours later, Gabe jolted awake again. Not because of a suspicious noise this time, but because his head had slipped from where he'd been resting it against his fist and he'd nailed his forehead on his keyboard.

Nice.

Gabe pulled a hand down his face, wondering how long he'd dozed off while reading Monroe's blog. He'd managed to get through dozens of posts before he'd run out of steam, but it was enough to have him shaking his head in disbelief.

The man was completely delusional. He'd read his fair share of rants about the government and law enforcement—some of them even well supported by evidence and incredibly persuasive. He could see how people already frustrated and discontent could buy into what these groups were saying. But Monroe… The guy was a fucking nutjob. And the people following him and leaving comments were just as crazy.

The bullshit he was spewing was so far beyond a run-of-the-mill conspiracy theory that Gabe half expected to see the guy walking down the street with a foil hat one of these days. But his followers were bordering on the fanatical. Given a few more years to recruit, Jeb Monroe could easily reach cult status.