Safe from Harm (12 page)

He crossed his arms over his chest, his posture growing defensive. “Didn't realize you were counting. If I'd known, I would've given you a copy of the scorecard I keep in my wallet, let you play along.”

She closed her eyes, trying not to let his sarcasm get to her. He was hurt by her perception of him—that was clear. The knowledge that her words were hurting him made her stomach sink. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm, but the contact was a mistake. Hell—every contact with him was a mistake. She'd discovered that all too well.

She could deny her attraction to Gabe all she wanted, could lie to herself—to
him
—and pretend her heart didn't race every time he walked into a room, that her stomach didn't somersault whenever she heard his voice. But there was no denying how her fingers tingled the moment they touched his skin and how that simple contact sent heat lancing through her.

“It meant something to me, too,” she said softly, letting her fingertips drift lightly along his forearm.

“Elle.”

Her gaze snapped up to his. “Yeah?”

“You should probably go.”

* * *

Her hand instantly fell away, his reaction no doubt unexpected. She probably thought he was being a petulant asshole, but he was actually trying his damnedest to be a gentleman. Because what he
wanted
to do was kiss the hell out of her again, sweep her off to his bed, and make love to her until they both passed out from sheer, blissful exhaustion.

“Okay,” she said, backing away, her expression conflicted. She held his gaze for a long moment as if she might say something more, but then turned and headed for the doorway.

“It's bullshit,” Gabe called to her, not willing to let her walk out the door thinking he was a piece of shit manwhore.

She turned back, frowning. “What?”

“My reputation,” he repeated. “How many women I've slept with. It's not what you'd think—not what I
let
people think even back in high school. And none of the women I
have
been with were one-night stands, contrary to popular belief.”

“What about Chelsea Barton?” Elle demanded.

It actually took him a minute to figure out who the hell she was talking about. “Billy Monroe's girlfriend?”

Elle nodded.

He scoffed, shaking his head with a bitter laugh. “No, Elle,” he said, “I really didn't sleep with her. She only said that to piss off Billy and to get back at me for turning her down. Yeah, she gave me a ride home from Mulaney's that night, but when she wanted to get busy, I turned her down. I wasn't interested.”

Elle blinked at him for a moment. “But…why didn't you say something when Billy first backed out of testifying against his cousin for Chris's murder?”

“I tried to deny it, if you'll recall,” he reminded her. “But given my reputation, you didn't buy it.”

She closed her eyes on a sigh, her shoulders sagging. “Gabe—”

“My point is, Elle, I don't sleep with just any woman with a pulse,” he continued, not willing to accept an apology now, not when he was hurt by her lack of faith and trust in him. “I never have. When I'm with a woman, it's because I care about her and I respect her. If either of those things is missing, it's a no-go, no matter what my dick has to say about it.”

She stared at him for a long moment, maddeningly silent. She could see through him in so many ways and didn't give a good goddamn about his charm or his swagger or any of the other bullshit he dished out. That's what he loved so much about her. So why couldn't she accept
this
truth?

“I get it,” she said, her chin lifting. “What you're saying is perfectly clear. Thanks for saving me from making a
huge
mistake.”

He frowned, perplexed by her reaction, and went after her as she stormed toward the front door but wasn't able to keep up with her thanks to his leg.

Why the hell was she acting so pissed? He'd just explained he didn't sleep around, that he wasn't the total asshole she'd thought he was. Fucking hell, that's what he got for being a gentleman on the night they'd—

Shit.

She must've thought the reason he'd put the brakes on during their make-out session after Chris's death was because he didn't care enough about her to sleep with her when the truth was the exact opposite. Even though he'd been completely shit-faced, he would've had enough presence of mind to not ruin his shot with Elle by sleeping with her when he was wasted.

“Elle!” he called. “Elle, wait! I didn't mean—”

The slamming front door was the only response he received.

He heaved a sigh. “Way to go, genius. Gonna need a crowbar to get your fucking foot outta your mouth this time around.”

A moment later, his cell phone rang. To his surprise, it was Elle. “Elle,” he said before she could speak, “when I said that—”

“Come outside,” she interrupted, her tone even, serious.

He pulled open the front door and his stomach immediately sank. Spray-painted in white across her windshield was the word “WHORE.”

Elle fixed him with a look so forlorn it broke his heart, but then she gestured toward his house. He came out onto the porch and turned around to see “DIE PIG” painted on his door. He disconnected the line and dialed his brother.

“Hey, Tommy.” He seethed, anger making him grip his phone with white knuckles. “That promise you wanted me to make about not going after Monroe, cutting off his dick, and shoving it down his throat? Yeah, not sure I'm gonna be able to keep that one.”

“And?”

“I did what you told me to, sir,” Jeb's youngest son, Brian, told him, his eyes gleaming with a mission accomplished. His first. He was only thirteen, so he was green and inexperienced, not like his older brothers. But he'd be one hell of a soldier for the cause when he was a little older.

Monroe nodded. “Good. Good. It's a little risky tagging in daylight, but it makes a stronger point than sneaking around in the darkness like a coward.”

“He knows we're not afraid of them,” Brian said with a triumphant grin.

Jeb ruffled the boy's hair, smiling down at him. “That's right, Son. That's right. It's important to immediately establish dominance. If he knows we're the ones in control, he'll realize he's powerless. And being powerless makes a man afraid.”

Brian nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You
sure
no one saw you?” he asked. “Someone shows up here looking for you, you know there'll be hell to pay.”

Brian nodded again, more vehemently this time. “I didn't see anybody at all. And I did her car first, so nobody'd see it right away from the street.”

Jeb frowned. “Her car?
She
was there?”

Brian glanced toward his brother Jeremy, as if asking permission to continue.

“She was parked in his driveway,” Jeremy supplied. “I thought we might as well send her a message while we were there.”

Jeb nodded his approval. “Glad to see you taking a little initiative. Finally.”

Jeremy huffed and all but spat, “Thank you, sir.”

Jeb eyed his sons, not liking Jeremy's attitude of late. He was eighteen, a man. His mother wanted to coddle him, keep him from fighting the cause as his older brothers had done. But Jeb had a legacy to maintain. He needed lieutenants in his army for freedom. And who better to count on than his own family?

It was time perhaps to initiate him into something more than petty vandalism. And he had just the job in mind.

* * *

Elle stood at a distance from Gabe, her arms wrapped around her torso in spite of the summer heat. She was chilled down to her marrow. It was bad enough to see her car vandalized, but the death threat on Gabe's door affected her even worse.

“You okay, baby girl?”

Elle dragged her gaze from the threat against Gabe and turned her attention to her aunt. Charlotte's auburn brows were drawn together in a concerned frown that made her look every bit of her sixty years. The stress of the situation was taking its toll on more than just Gabe and Elle. Their families were suffering, worried about their safety and well-being. But maybe that was the point.

“I'll be okay,” Elle assured her, forcing a tentative smile. “It's just paint.”

“This time,” Charlotte fumed. “Did you get a look at who did it?”

Elle shook her head, wishing she'd stayed inside a little longer, enjoyed the warmth of Gabe's arms, the heat of his kiss, for a few moments more instead of storming out. Maybe then she wouldn't be so cold now.

The sound of a car pulling up brought both of them around to see Mac Dawson getting out of his Tahoe and striding toward his son. But Charlotte was already moving to intercept him. If Elle hadn't been so shaken by the events of that morning, she would've been amused to see her aunt going toe-to-toe with the sheriff, his imposing figure towering over hers but wearing an expression that looked a little intimidated by the fierce tilt of her chin.

“Douglas MacArthur Dawson,” Charlotte said, hands on her hips, “what
the hell
is going on?”

“Well, Charlotte,” he drawled, “that's what I'm here to find out.”

She wagged a finger at him. “Don't you dare ‘Well, Charlotte' me. It's the Monroes, and you damn well know it. I want that crazy son of a bitch arrested and behind bars where he can't hurt anyone else.”

Mac heaved a patient sigh. “Charlotte, we have no proof it was Monroe or any of his kin. I can't arrest him or anyone one else without cause.”

She shook her head. “There was a time when you weren't so by the book,” she admonished. “You used to be more concerned about protecting victims than offending the criminals.”

Mac ran a hand over his close-cropped gray hair and sent a glance toward Gabe and Tom, then Elle. “I'll bring him in for questioning,” he relented. “But that's the best I can do, Charlie.”

Elle's eyes widened slightly.
Charlie?
She'd never heard anyone but her mother call Charlotte by that name. She'd long suspected there was more between Mac and her aunt than just friendship, but there was something in the way Mac looked at Charlotte at that moment that spoke volumes. Instead of looking offended by being cornered by Charlotte, he looked like he enjoyed her fiery tirade. And Elle could've
sworn
she saw the formidable sheriff grin as he turned away.

Charlotte was positively triumphant as she came back to Elle, head held high. “Don't worry, honey. Mac will handle it. Now, let's get you back to my house. I think it's best if you stay another night or two.”

Elle started to argue, but she realized she didn't really want to be alone that night. She felt a heaviness in the center of her chest and looked over her aunt's shoulder to see Gabe staring at her, his expression difficult to interpret. He looked as if he wanted to come to her, hold her. Or maybe that was just her projecting the desires weighing on her own heart.

* * *

“Gabe? Did you hear what I said?”

Gabe dragged his gaze away from Charlotte's car as it drove away, wishing he'd had the chance to talk to Elle for a few minutes before they'd left. But she hadn't made an effort to talk to him at all either, so maybe it was just as well.

He turned back to Tom, trying to focus on what he was saying. “Sorry, what?”

“I said, you need to bring Dad up to speed on what's been going on,” he said. “We're going to bring Jeb Monroe in for questioning. And I'm going to send extra patrols around to keep an eye on your house.”

This got Gabe's attention. “Good. Let's go pick up the bastard right now.”

“You're not going anywhere,” Tom informed him. “Unless it's to Joe and Sadie's while the team finishes processing the scene.”

“Bullshit,” Gabe spat. “I'm not just going to sit around on my ass while you guys talk to Monroe.”

“You are on medical leave, Gabriel,” Mac interjected. “And there's a reason for that. If you want to be fit for service later, you need to take care of yourself now. Is that clear?”

Gabe clenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to argue with his father. He knew arguing wouldn't do any good. Once the Old Man dug his heels in, it was over, and no amount of ranting, raving, or whining would make a damned bit of difference. All that would do was piss him off even more. That was a lesson he'd learned when they were all kids and was probably why he and Mac had the best relationship. His brothers saw it as kissing their dad's ass. Gabe saw it as picking his battles.

But he was having a hard time swallowing his protests this time around. “I think I can handle asking a few questions.”

“So can your brother,” Mac informed him.

Gabe's jaw tightened, and he suddenly felt like a ten-year-old kid again. “Dad—”

Mac gave him a stern look. “This is not up for discussion, Gabriel.”

“Why?” he pressed. “I was shot in the leg, for Christ's sake!”

“Gabe,” Tom warned. “Let it go, man. I'll handle it.”

Let it go? Like hell.

“I'm not going to do nothing when I'm the one whose life is being threatened!”

Mac took a step forward, now nose to nose with Gabe. “It is exactly because your life is being threatened that I am keeping you out of this. I'm also not letting Tom question Jeb alone. I won't have the legitimacy of an investigation of this son of a bitch compromised or questioned.”

“I'll give you a call after we talk to him,” Tom assured him. “We're not gonna leave you in the dark, Gabe. You know that.”

Yeah, he knew it. But being sidelined still pissed him off. Without another word, he went back into his house and slammed the door. He wasn't going to Joe and Sadie's just because some asshole had tagged his house. As soon as the vandalism was documented, he'd grab leftover paint from when he'd painted his garage a few months earlier and take care of it.

He was more concerned about the effect the event had had on Elle.

When he got back to his office, he tried to go over the info he'd planned to show her, but he couldn't concentrate. All he could think about was the way she felt in his arms, how yielding her soft lips had been, how her little moan of desire had sent a current of need down his spine and into his cock.

He leaned back in his chair with a groan and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, trying to banish the erotic images plaguing him. But it didn't do any good. He was on the verge of getting up to go take a cold shower when his cell phone rang, startling him.

Even more startling was the number he saw on the screen.

“I'm sorry,” he said the moment she answered. “I'm an idiot.”

Elle laughed on a sigh. “Let the record show that
you
said it, not me.”

“So, you okay?” he asked, half holding his breath as he waited for an answer.

“I will be,” she assured him. “I'm going to stay with my aunt for a couple of days, I think.”

He cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. “If, you know, you need someone to talk to, feel free to give me a call. Or stop by.”

“I don't know that stopping by would be a good idea,” she said.

His stomach sank. “No?”

“No,” she affirmed.

“Mind if I ask why?”

“Because I'm a little worried what would happen if I stopped by,” she admitted softly, her voice like a maddeningly sensual caress on his skin.

Holy shit. Was she saying…?

He honestly didn't even have a comeback for that one. If it'd been any other woman, he would've been able to come up with something appropriately seductive. But she left him speechless. The idea that she might be on board with where his thoughts were tending made his mouth suddenly go dry and his already-throbbing cock swell to the point of pain.

“I'll see you soon, Gabe.”

He stared at his phone for a long moment after she'd hung up.

Holy. Hell.

Oh yeah. A cold shower was
definitely
in order…

* * *

What
the hell
was she
doing
?

Elle knew as soon as she'd called Gabe that it was a mistake. She'd just stormed out of his house and now she was throwing out “do me” vibes? Okay, granted, she hadn't intended to throw out any vibes when she'd called. She'd just wanted to make sure he was doing okay after having his house vandalized.

But then she'd heard his voice, heard that deep rumble that made her shiver when the sound washed over her. She
wanted
him. Wanted him with an intensity that nearly sent her driving back over there. Luckily, until the authorities were finished processing her car for evidence she was without a vehicle of her own, and so she had to park her libido.

It was just as well. She needed to get a handle on this lust-fueled infatuation she had for Gabe. It couldn't end well. He'd all but told her that. Hadn't he? Or had she misunderstood?

Elle groaned and snatched up the files she'd been gathering from her office to take over to her aunt's house with the idea that working on some of her cases might help keep her mind off of Gabe and his heated kiss. With that in mind, she grabbed a couple of other file folders from their drawer and shoved them into her business tote for good measure. But when she turned to go, she paused. Taking a look around the confines of her office, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

Something was off. Nothing appeared to be missing or out of place, but she couldn't shake the feeling someone else had been there. But why? Anyone looking for information would've been disappointed—she took her laptop home with her every evening and her files were all locked securely in the filing cabinet.

Still, she did another sweep of the room to make sure that nothing was out of place. She shook her head. The only problem she could see was that her plant on the windowsill was looking pretty sad. Obviously, the office manager had failed to water it while she'd been working from home.

“Elle?”

Elle started, dropping her tote with a curse. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry, honey,” her aunt said. “You were just taking so long I thought I'd come up and check on you. Everything okay?”

Elle's brows came together. “No,” she confessed. “Something's wrong in here.”

Charlotte took a stroll around the room, frowning as she searched for any sign of something off. “Everything looks okay to me, honey.”

Elle shook her head. “I don't know… I just—” Her words died abruptly when she caught sight of a photo on her bookshelf that was slightly out of place.

Elle hurried to the photo and picked it up, tears coming to her eyes. It was her mother and father on their wedding day—one of her favorites. It usually sat directly in front a copy of the
Collected Works of William Shakespeare
, but it had been moved, the slight disturbance in the light coating of dust on the shelf confirming her suspicions.

But why?

She set the frame aside and took out the book, leafing through it until she reached the page she sought. She heaved a huge sigh of relief when she saw the article she'd cut out of the newspaper years ago and had placed in the book for safekeeping.

Charlotte came to her side and peered down at the yellowed newspaper clipping. “Oh, honey,” she whispered, putting an arm around Elle's shoulders and giving her a squeeze. “Why would someone want to steal the news story on your family's death?”