Safe from Harm (25 page)

“Not long if I can get a search warrant,” she said, her voice taut with concern. “Maybe an hour or so. Why? What's going on?”

“That's what I'm trying to find out,” he said, taking a turn without thinking. “Charlotte says Elle left Mulaney's some time ago in a cab to go home, but she's not there.”

Abby cursed under her breath. “You don't think she's following Monroe, do you?”

“I don't know what the hell she's doing or why she was interested in tracking Monroe,” he told her. “It doesn't make any sense. She was just telling me to stay clear of them and not engage in any way. I just… My gut's telling me she's in trouble, Abby. I gotta find her.”

“I'll ask Tom to sign off on a search warrant,” she assured him. “I can go ahead and contact her cell provider to save time. Do you know what cab company she used? We can call them and find out where the driver is now. He can at least tell you where he took her.”

“Mulaney's has an arrangement with Standard Cabs,” he said, knowing their service well. “I'll give them a call.”

“I'll call you as soon as I get anything,” Abby assured him. “Keep me posted, Gabe. Please call me as soon as you know she's safe.”

Gabe dialed the cab company next. “Hey, Frank. It's Gabe Dawson.”

The guy on the other end chuckled. “Little early to call for a pickup isn't it, Dawson?”

“Unfortunately, it's not that kind of call,” Gabe told him. “Charlotte Mulaney's niece, Elle McCoy, called for a ride earlier today but never reached her destination. Could you put me in touch with your driver so I can find out where he dropped her off?”

“Sure, buddy. No problem.” Gabe heard the clacking of typing on the other end of the line. “Huh. That's weird. Looks like Bobby picked her up all right, but he never checked back in service.”

“What was his destination?” Gabe asked, a massive boulder of dread dropping into his stomach.

More typing on the other end. “Uh…looks like some rural address out in Venice. Want the address?”

Fuck.

“No thanks,” Gabe replied, his throat constricting. “I know where it is. Do you have the GPS coordinates on the cab now? Is it still there?”

There was a pause. Then, “No. It looks like it's about five miles from there. No address is listed, but I can give you the location if you want to check it out. It's not like Bobby to not check back in service. He's the most dependable guy I've got.”

Gabe flipped on his lights and sirens and slammed down on the accelerator. Screw being on administrative leave. Right now, his only concern was getting to Elle. “Text me the information, Frank. I'm on my way.”

As soon as he hung up, his phone rang. “Yeah?”

“What the fuck is going on? Where are you?”

Gabe tried not to sigh. The last thing he was in the mood for at that moment was a lecture from Tom.

“On my way out to the Monroe farm,” Gabe informed him, his tone clipped. “I think Elle's there.”

“What the hell is she doing
there
?”

Gabe slowed as he came to an intersection, checking to make sure the cross traffic was stopping before he blew through the red light. “I don't know, Tom. But I swear to God, if Monroe has hurt her…”

“Joe and I are on our way,” Tom said, his voice sounding like he was already on the move. “Joey! Let's go! Gabe, how close are you to Monroe's?”

“I'm about fifteen minutes out,” he said, turning onto the rural route that led to Monroe's farm. “There's a cab about five miles from the farm that I'm going to check out on the way. The cabbie never checked back in. I need to make sure she's not there first.”

There was a slight pause before Tom said, “We'll be there as soon as we can. And Dad has alerted the local PD. Don't take on Monroe by yourself, Gabe. Wait for backup.”

Gabe's heart pounded in his ears, fear for Elle making his chest tight. “Can't make any promises.”

“Gabe,” Tom said, his tone pleading, “I'm ordering you not to go in on your own.”

“I'm not letting you pull rank on me this time, Bro,” Gabe insisted. “I love her, Tommy. I'm not going to let that bastard hurt her. If I have to die protecting her, I will.”

“I understand that—”

Gabe hung up and tossed his phone into the passenger seat. It immediately started ringing again, but when he saw it was Tom calling back, he ignored it. He understood his brother's concerns, especially in light of what Tom had confided in him about his fears of losing one of them in the line of duty. But Gabe wasn't about to let Tom's fear prevent him from protecting the woman he loved.

* * *

Elle could hear shouting behind her and knew she'd been spotted. She ran faster, pushing herself until her arms and legs turned to rubber, her breath ragged.

Almost there. Almost there…

She had no idea what the hell she was going to do once she made it to the cornfield. Hell, they knew the rows and orientation of the field better than she did. She didn't even have any freaking clue where it ended. She could only pray that she'd end up near another house or the road where she could flag down a passing motorist.

The roar of an engine assaulted her ears, making her start. Her heart stuttered in panic and she threw a glance over her shoulder to see two men on one ATV and one on another racing in her direction.

Oh God…

She whimpered softly but kept running, not about to give up now that she was so close. A loud pop sounded behind her as one of them fired off a shot. She instinctively ducked at the sound, losing her footing and landing hard in the grass.

Cursing, she scrambled to her feet, barely registering the blood trickling down her arm from a skinned elbow. She could worry about it later. Right now she was more concerned about the damned ATVs that were right on top of her.

She sprinted forward, finally making the cornfield, and raced down the row, then zagged randomly, hoping to lose her pursuers, who were now crashing through the cornfield after her on foot. Her lungs began to burn, her breath loud in her ears as she continued to run, her adrenaline keeping her on her feet.

The heavy footfalls behind her were growing closer, gaining on her. In desperation, she made another random zag through the rows, but catching a glimpse of someone running parallel to her, she turned again and sprinted forward, praying the man hadn't seen her too.

Another loud pop made her flinch, fully expecting to feel the impact of a bullet in her back. But when she felt no pain, she sent a glance over her shoulder to check for her pursuer.

No one was there.
Thank God! Maybe she'd—

The sudden impact as she collided with another mass sent her sprawling on her back, knocking the air from her lungs. The next thing she knew, Jeremy Monroe was standing over her, a shotgun pointed at her chest.

“Don't move,” he ordered.

Tears of frustration rushed to her throat, choking her, but she closed her eyes, swallowed past them, and tried to slow her ragged breathing. When she opened her eyes, Jeremy was still staring down at her, his brows drawn together as if he was undecided what to do with her now that he'd caught her.

“Let me go,” she said softly. “You don't want to do this, Jeremy.”

She saw his throat work as he swallowed hard. He licked his lips, then glanced around, checking for others. Then he bent forward, looking anguished as he said, “I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you, but—”

“Good job, boy,” came a rough voice from behind him.

Jeremy instantly snapped upright but gave Elle a pleading look, silently begging her not to betray him. Jeb Monroe appeared next to his son, a smug sneer draped across his cruel mouth. “Well, now, where do you think you're running off to? It's not very polite to leave without saying good-bye.” He then gestured to someone out of Elle's line of sight. “Get her on her feet.”

Jeb's brother Dave stepped forward and grabbed her arm, dragging her roughly to her feet. She winced in pain from the cut on her arm.

The men dragged her along with them to the ATVs. “You go on,” Jeb said to his son and brother. “I'll bring her up.”

As soon as the other two started up the ATVs and drove back to the house, Jeb pulled Elle toward the house. “You're proving more trouble than you're worth.”

“Guess you should let me go then,” she hissed.

He chuckled, making her skin crawl. “You know I can't do that,” he told her. “Not now.”

“The Sheriff's Department knows where I am. They're going to realize I'm missing,” she assured him. “There's no denying your role in everything this time.”

“I have no intention of denying anything.” The grin he gave her was chilling. “In fact, I'm looking forward to whole Dawson family showing up—especially Gabe Dawson rushing in here in all his arrogance, thinking he can rescue his beloved whore. His brothers won't be far behind, I'm sure.”

The man was a fanatic—that she already knew. But the look on his face told her he was no longer concerned about being cautious. Jeb Monroe was more dangerous than ever.

When they reached the house, Jeb shoved her inside and motioned at this wife. “Bandage that cut up. Don't want her bleeding all over the carpet.”

Janice came forward, her head bowed in deference. The woman was clearly broken. She led Elle to the sofa where Sandra sat, her eyes staring out at nothing as she rocked a little. Whatever the poor girl had been through, her physical wounds were nothing compared to what her emotional wounds must be.

Jeb walked to the window and peered outside, watching the driveway that led up to the house while Janice cleaned Elle's cut with peroxide and covered it with a couple of Band-Aids. At one point, she lifted her eyes and met Elle's gaze, then abruptly shifted her gaze to the left, gesturing for Elle to look that way.

Elle felt suddenly cold in spite of the summer heat.

A boy of perhaps twelve or thirteen years old sat in a wooden chair in the next room, his arms tied behind his back, his feet bound at the ankles, his mouth covered with duct tape. His cheek was bruised and swollen, and his eyes were red, as if he'd been crying recently.

Sweet Jesus.

Now Elle understood how Janice was persuaded to call Elle and trap her into coming out to the farm. Janice had told her Jeb had threatened to kill her children. It appeared their youngest son had been the particular target.

And now Elle had become the bait to draw Gabe and his brothers right into this monster's lair, into the trap he'd set and was ready to spring.

Tears pricked her eyes when she thought of how she and Gabe had left things, how the last words he might hear from her were words of anger. She hoped she'd have the chance to tell him again how much she loved him, how she couldn't imagine ever loving anyone else. She longed to once more feel his arms around her, to know the warmth of his love.

And yet it was that very same love, from the heart of a man whose loyalty and duty were the most steadfast of anyone she'd ever known, that was most likely leading him to his death.

* * *

Gabe glanced at the speedometer, cursing his inability to go any faster. As he got closer to the coordinates Frank had given him, he studied the edges of the road, searching the fields and tree lines, searching for any sign of the missing cab. Suddenly a blur of yellow among rusted-out shells of various cars and vans in a makeshift junkyard near a copse of trees caught his attention.

He whipped the Tahoe over to the side of the road and drew his weapon as he leaped from the SUV and hurried toward the trees where the car was parked. As he got closer, he slowed his pace, keeping his weapon at the ready as he approached with caution. He was still several feet away when he saw the blood splatter on the driver's side door.

“Shit,” he rasped. He hurried forward, searching the interior of the car in a quick glance. No blood inside that he could see, but what looked like Elle's purse was sitting on the floorboards in the back.

Oh God.

He fished his handkerchief from his pocket and used it to try the front door handle. Whoever had dumped the car hadn't bothered locking it. He took another quick glance, then popped the trunk.

Gabe hurried around to the back of the car and took a deep breath, then lifted the trunk lid, having a pretty damned good idea what he'd find. And yet his stomach still churned when he saw the cabbie's body, half his head blown off from a gunshot.
Shit
.

He swallowed and looked about. No sign of Elle.

Gabe ran back to his Tahoe, jumped inside, and pulled onto the road before calling in the location of the cab and the death of the cab driver to dispatch. Then, not wanting to get yet another lecture from his brother Tom, he called Joe instead.

“Joey,” Gabe ground out the second his brother answered, “the cabbie that picked up Elle is dead. He's got her, Joe. That motherfucker has Elle.”

“Ah, shit,” Joe muttered. “We're on our way, Gabe. Just hang tight. Tom and I are on the way. And we were able to catch Kyle before he was too far down to the road. We got your back, Bro.”

Gabe hung up and, this time, attached his phone to his hip, gradually decreasing his speed as he drew close to the Monroe farm. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, getting his emotions under control. He wasn't going to be any use to Elle if he couldn't keep his shit together.

He needed to figure out a game plan. Waiting the fifteen or so minutes it would take for his brothers to catch up could mean the difference in whether Elle lived or died. He couldn't just come up the driveway and knock on the front door. He most likely wouldn't even make it to the porch before Monroe put a bullet in him.

Before he reached the farm, he pulled off onto a small access road used to drive between the fields and went just far enough to obscure the Tahoe from the road but not to tip off anyone at the house that a vehicle was approaching.