Safe from Harm (5 page)

“Thanks!” Elle called when she noticed the doctor was already walking away.

“Well, she's an odd little thing,” Charlotte said with a laugh.

“Oh, that girl is
completely
crazy,” Wanda shot back with a shake of her elaborate network of crimson-dyed braids. “But she's a good surgeon, so they keep her around.”

“Who is she?” Elle asked.

Wanda clacked on the keyboard with long, gold-lacquered nails. “Dr. Isabel Morales. Now, who are you looking for, baby?”

“Gabe Dawson,” Elle murmured, frowning at Dr. Morales's back, wondering why the woman's name sounded so familiar.

The nurse made a few rapid keystrokes, then gave a curt nod. “Looks like he's in recovery. Gonna be a little while before he can have visitors. You can go sit in the family waiting room.”

“Oh, no,” Elle said in a rush, shaking her head. “I'm not family. I'm just…” She paused, not quite sure how to categorize their relationship.
Girlfriend
certainly wasn't an option, considering he didn't remember anything that had happened between them and had moved on with a vengeance. And
reluctant colleague
seemed kind of impersonal and catty considering how he'd thrown himself in front of her to protect her from harm. She probably owed him at least that dinner he'd offered now that he'd taken a bullet for her. She forced a smile when she saw Wanda giving her an expectant look. “A friend. I'm just a friend.”

Wanda pursed her lips. “Mmm-hmm.”

Elle glanced at her aunt, then back at the nurse. “No. Really. I wouldn't even call it a friendship. He's kind of an ass. I mean, okay, he's really good-looking and all, don't get me wrong, and he does have his moments now and then, but there's nothing going on—”

Wanda turned back to her monitor. “Mmm-hmm.”

Elle huffed a little and turned to her aunt, giving her an exasperated look.

“C'mon, sweet girl,” Charlotte said with a grin, steering Elle away from the desk and toward the elevators. “Let's get you home. I imagine Mac and the boys'll be wanting to see Gabe when he first wakes up. You can stop by tomorrow to check on him.”

“Why are you grinning?” Elle protested as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. “You know he gets on my last nerve! Like there'd ever be anything going on between
us.
I can barely stand to be in the same room as him. His ego makes things a little crowded.”

Charlotte made no effort at all to smother her grin. “Mmm-mmm.”

Elle gave her a sardonic look. “
Et tu
, Charlotte?”

Charlotte laughed and gave her niece a gentle squeeze around the shoulders. “I seem to remember you didn't always find Gabe Dawson so repugnant. In fact, as I recall, a certain freckle-faced teenager had a mighty big crush on him back in the day.”

Elle sniffed dismissively. “Well, that teenager grew up,” she mumbled. “Unfortunately, the object of her affection did not.”

“Anything you want to tell me, honey?” Charlotte asked.

Elle glanced at her aunt but quickly averted her gaze, not liking how perceptive the woman sometimes was. “No. Why?”

Charlotte gave Elle's shoulders a squeeze. “You just seem to be pretty concerned for the well-being of a man you insist you despise.”

Elle shrugged, trying to appear indifferent to Charlotte's words. “I'd be just as concerned about anyone else I work with.”

But even as she spoke the words, Elle studied her reflection in the mirror, grateful that she'd only have a small scar at her hairline to show for what had happened that day. Thanks to Gabe.

And a small—
very
small—part of her began to wonder if maybe she'd misjudged him all these years. If maybe there was something more to Gabe Dawson than she'd been willing to see…

The first face Gabe saw when he awoke was his brother Tom's, his brows drawn together in an uncharacteristically dark frown. “Hey, man, how ya doin'?”

“Livin' the dream,” Gabe mumbled, his mouth feeling like it was full of cotton. “You alright? How's Elle? She was bleeding. Is she okay?”

“I'm fine,” Tom assured him. “And Elle will be okay. She needed some stitches but was otherwise unharmed. She came by asking about you before Charlotte took her home. She looked pretty worried.”

Gabe blinked a little through the lingering fog of anesthesia. “She did? I'll be damned.”

“You saved her life, Son. I'm sure she's grateful.”

Gabe's gaze swung toward the sound of his father's voice to see him wearing the same expression as Tom.
Shit
. Seeing those two visibly worried about him rattled him down to his bones.

“It was Mark Monroe,” Gabe rasped. “That son of a bitch—”

“Is dead,” Tom finished, his gaze dropping. That look told Gabe everything he needed to know. Tom had taken the bastard down and had no doubt saved numerous lives, including Gabe's. But that didn't make it any easier on Tom. In all the years Tom had been a deputy, he'd never even had to draw his weapon. Until today. “You don't have to worry about him.”

“Yeah,” Gabe murmured, the spike of fear he'd experienced in that moment on the steps rushing back on him and making his heart race. The tempo of the beeping monitors near his head gave him away, bringing in a fierce-looking nurse with numerous loops of crimson braids.

“Alright, now,” she said, shooing Tom out of her way. “I told you all that you needed to let him rest.” She patted Gabe on the shoulder. “Don't worry, baby, I'll take good care of you. You go on and get some sleep now.”

“Where're Joe and Kyle?” Gabe asked, the room beginning to spin a little from whatever it was they were giving him for pain.

“Nurse Ratched here wouldn't let us all come in,” Tom told him, sending the nurse an irritated glance. “They're out in the hallway with Sadie and Abby.”

Gabe wasn't too out of it to notice the tightness in his brother's tone when he mentioned the women. Probably because his own wife's name was noticeably absent. It'd been three years since Tom's wife, Carly, had been killed in the line of duty as a DEA agent. And the murderer—a drug lord from Chicago—was serving a life sentence thanks to Tom's tireless efforts to put the bastard away. But Gabe knew Carly's loss still weighed heavily on his brother. Tom's already solemn and intense personality had become doubly so since losing the woman he loved.

“Oh my goodness!”

Everyone's attention darted to the door, where a woman with unruly, dark, bobbed hair and polka dot scrubs was standing.

“Isn't this a busy place!” she said with a little giggle. “How's the patient? Oh, hey,
hi
!”

Gabe forced himself to focus on the pixie-like face of the doctor who'd come in and was now maneuvering around to the side of the bed where Tom stood.

“Uh, hi,” Tom muttered, looking a little embarrassed by her sudden appearance.

The doctor grabbed Tom's hand and pumped it vigorously. “It's so good to see you again! I didn't realize—oh,
Dawson
! You two are related, right?”

“Gabe's my brother,” Tom said, looking like he wanted to sink into the floor. “Nice to see you again, Isabel.”

Was Tom actually blushing? The fuck?

Gabe was way too out of it to try to puzzle through how Tom was acquainted with his doctor—whoever the hell she was—and why her presence was enough to fluster him. But it was definitely something he planned to ask about when the fog cleared.

“Dr. Morales?” the nurse prompted.

The doctor was still shaking Tom's hand, grinning like crazy, then suddenly seemed to realize what she was doing and dropped his hand with a little laugh. “I'd better take a look at your brother. See how my handiwork is doing. But maybe we could grab coffee later? Catch up?”

Tom ducked his head a little and glanced at the other occupants of the room. “Uh, yeah. Sure.” Then he coughed, clearing his throat, and turned his attention back to his brother. “I'll check back on you later, Bro.”

His father patted Gabe lightly on the shoulder, his normally stoic expression cracking a bit with emotion. But the Old Man covered it well—as usual—and just gave Gabe a curt nod before turning and leaving the room.

“Well, that wasn't awkward at all,” the nurse said, sharing a glance with Gabe.

Dr. Morales washed her hands and grabbed a couple of latex gloves from a box hanging on the wall. “I haven't seen Tom in years, Wanda,” she said rather wistfully. “Not since the incident in the ER.” But before the doctor could explain what she was talking about, she gave Gabe a bright smile. “So, how are you feeling, Deputy Dawson?”

“Like I got shot,” Gabe drawled, sleep creeping in as the nurse moved the sheet off of his leg so that the doctor could take a look. “How 'bout you?”

As sleep dragged him under, he heard the doctor's giggle, heard her say something in reply, but he couldn't quite make it out and was too tired to bother trying…

* * *

It was dark when Gabe awoke for the second time. At least, it felt like he was awake, but he wasn't quite sure. The edges of his vision were blurry and the room seemed to swim a little. His body felt light, almost like he was floating—or maybe just threatening to. For a brief, panicked moment, he wondered if he was dead, if the floating sensation was his soul drifting away. But then the dull pain in his leg made him realize he was still very much alive.

He sighed, relieved, and was letting his lids close again when he realized he was not alone in the room.

His eyes snapped open, his senses suddenly alert as he battled through the fog of sleep and painkillers to try to figure out who the hell was in there with him. He tried to sit up. Couldn't. His body, so light just a moment before, now seemed to weigh a ton and wouldn't respond to his command.

“Who's there?” he managed to croak out, his throat dry and scratchy, making the question sound more like a growl.

The shadows in the room shifted a little and a figure slowly moved into the small pool of light cast by the various monitors. And he recognized the face immediately. His pulse quickened in a mixture of fear and anger, but still his body wouldn't respond. The monitors began to beep like crazy again, but Nurse Wanda didn't barge in this time. He was alone. With the father of the man who'd tried to kill him.

“Get the fuck out,” Gabe spat.

Jeb Monroe
tsked
and shook his head. “Such vulgarity,” he drawled, sounding to Gabe's ears as if he was under water. “Guess I shouldn't be surprised to hear such language from a dirty pig who will lie down with any whore.”

“Nurse!” Gabe yelled as he reached for the call button, keeping his gaze locked on the crazy son of a bitch walking toward him. His fingers fumbled, his body not cooperating as a result of the pain meds, and the device tumbled from the edge of the bed.

Monroe's hand lashed out, and he grasped Gabe by the throat, but not tight enough to choke him or leave any marks. The slippery bastard was far too smart for that. “The nurse just left the desk to attend to another patient down the hall, so I thought now would be a good time for us to chat.”

“There'll be security footage of you entering my room,” Gabe warned.

Monroe's brows lifted casually as if he was unconcerned. “True. But last time I checked, it wasn't a crime to visit a man in the hospital.”

Gabe narrowed his eyes. “What the hell do you want, Monroe?”

He leaned in, his breath rank as he hissed, “You got my boy killed.”

“He got
himself
killed,” Gabe shot back. “And it's on your head, Monroe. I'm guessing he was just following orders.”

Monroe chuckled darkly. “Orders? What orders?”

Gabe's eyes narrowed. “Yours. You sent him to take out Elle McCoy, didn't you?”

Monroe grinned. “Now why would I ever do such a thing, Deputy Dawson? I'm a peace-loving man who just wants his government to keep its promises and stop imposing its tyrannical laws on God-fearing citizens. I encourage nonviolent civil disobedience. Like Thoreau.”

Gabe scoffed. “Right. That's
exactly
who you remind me of.”

“Don't believe me?” Monroe said, arching his brow. “My views are right there on my website. You can't prove I believe otherwise, Deputy. And you know it.”

“Why the hell did you come here?” Gabe hissed, his fury at the truth of Monroe's words raging in his veins.

“Just wanted to say that I forgive you,” Monroe said.

Gabe stared at the man, wondering what the hell his angle was. “What?”

Monroe's grin grew, the lights from the monitors casting his face in shadow, giving him an even more sinister look than usual. “Make no mistake, Deputy, there will be a reckoning for what occurred today, for the promising young life that was taken. But it won't come from me. So whenever anyone asks, I will tell them I forgave you, just as the good Lord commands us.”

“Your son opened fire on innocent people at the courthouse,” Gabe reminded him. “There was only one way it could've ended. You
wanted
him to die today, to become a martyr for your cause.”

Monroe's eyes flashed with anger. “We're all required to make sacrifices in war.”

“The only war you're involved in is the one going on in your own twisted mind,” Gabe insisted.

“Oh, no,” Monroe said, shaking his head. “You're wrong. There's been a war brewing for decades, brought on by the sins of this country, of our government. ‘When new gods were chosen, then war was in the gates.' One day, you will have to decide which side you're on, Deputy Dawson. The side of our government? Or the side of all that is righteous?”

Gabe met his gaze without flinching. “You threatening me, Monroe?”

Monroe chuckled and slowly drew away, releasing Gabe's throat. “Of course not, Deputy. I don't make threats.”

Gabe kept his gaze fixed on Monroe as the man sauntered toward the door, but he didn't look back to gauge Gabe's reaction or to offer a parting shot. He strode from the room with a casual gait, completely unconcerned with getting caught.

The moment Gabe heard the door close, he collapsed against the pillows and heaved a sigh of relief. But it wasn't over. He knew that for damned sure. He could see it in Monroe's eyes—fuck all his bullshit talk about forgiveness. Gabe knew better than to believe any of that.

The son of a bitch. He'd come to taunt Gabe, to assure Gabe he'd pay for his son's death, to keep him looking over his shoulder, waiting for the attack that might never even come.

But as fucked up as Gabe's situation was, suddenly he was more concerned about Elle. He hadn't been the target that day. God knew he was in the Monroes' crosshairs just because he was a deputy; he'd accepted that risk on the day he'd been sworn in. And he had put himself at risk on more than one occasion since, determined to make a name for himself among the storied men in his family who'd come before him. But Elle hadn't signed up for this shit.

He ran a hand down his face, wiping away the last of the fog from his pain meds. There'd be no resting now. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. Two a.m. It was going to be one helluva long night…

* * *

Gabe started awake, throwing off the covers and bolting to his feet. Pain shot up and down his leg as soon as he made contact with the floor, making him groan through clenched teeth and follow it up with a juicy curse.

“Mother
fu—
”

“I'll just come back later.”

His gaze shot up to see Elle standing inside the doorway, gorgeous eyes wide, her peaches-and-cream skin flushed an alluring shade of pink that deepened as he gaped at her. When she dropped her gaze, turning first left, then right, as if forgetting where the door was, he suddenly realized his bare ass was hanging out of the back of his hospital gown giving her quite an eyeful.

“No, that's okay,” he said in a rush. “Come on in.”

He straightened quickly, wincing with the sudden movement, belatedly realizing his wound apparently hadn't affected other areas of his anatomy and he was sporting some serious morning wood, which was pitching one helluva tent beneath the thin cotton gown.

He cursed again and dropped down on the bed, throwing the blanket over his lower body in one quick motion and trying unsuccessfully to suppress another groan. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second until the wave of agony passed. When he opened them again, he was surprised to see Elle standing before him, her gaze searching his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her hand coming up to cup his jaw. The gentle warmth of her palm sent a chill through him, making him shudder. Her hand immediately dropped away at the response, mistakenly thinking her touch was unwanted when, in fact, he desperately craved it. “I'll get the nurse.”

When she reached for the call button hanging near the head of the bed, he gently grasped her wrist and drew her hand away. “Leave it. I'm fine.”

She swallowed and dropped her gaze briefly to their hands, looking like she wanted to bolt and rid herself of his touch. He almost released her, saddened that she found the contact so unwanted. But then he felt her pulse quicken beneath his fingertips.

So maybe it wasn't revulsion she was feeling after all…

When her gaze drifted back up to his, he decided to test his new theory and let his thumb slowly smooth over her skin. “How are
you
?” he asked softly.

She gave him a tremulous smile and, God help him, he damned near dragged her into his arms and kissed her. But he managed to restrain himself as she said, “Shaken up a bit. But no lasting harm.”