“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.
“Motherfu—”
“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…