They knelt in silence for several minutes more before Mac reached over and clasped Gabe on the shoulder in the closest thing to a hug Gabe had received from him since he was a teenager. Then, in a move that would’ve made Gabe keel over in shock had he not been kneeling, his father put his hand on the side of Gabe’s head and pulled him close to press a kiss to his hair. Without a word, he rose and left the pew, leaving Gabe kneeling there with his mouth agape.
But Gabe didn’t have any time to mull over what the hell had just happened before his phone began to vibrate. He glanced down to see Tom’s number. He instinctively started to answer it, but the many lectures they’d received from their father every Sunday before Mass, including a very specific outline of what would happen to each and every one of Mac Dawson’s sons if they dared to be disruptive in church and disrespect their mother, the priest, and God himself made Gabe send it to voice mail. He resumed his prayer, but a few seconds later, the phone began vibrating again. With a sigh, Gabe crossed himself, rose, and left the church before answering the phone so as not to disturb any of the other parishioners who were still praying.
“Hey, Bro, what’s up?” Before Tom could answer, he went on in a rush, “You’ll never guess who I just bumped into at the church. The Old Man. I guess he goes every week—”
“I’m coming to pick you up,” Tom interrupted.
“I’m fine,” Gabe assured him. “Doc Morales cleared me to drive yesterday during my follow-up visit.”
“Then meet me at Elle’s house.”
Panic squeezed Gabe’s lungs and he picked up the pace, damning his leg for not fully cooperating with his need for haste. “Why? What’s wrong? Is she okay?”
“That’s what I want to make sure of,” Tom told him. “I can’t get in touch with her. I already have a car in route. How far are you from her house?”
“Five minutes, tops,” he said, suppressing a groan as he jumped behind the wheel of his 1970 Dodge Charger that he and his brothers had lovingly restored when they were teenagers. He normally used his beat-up pickup truck when he was tooling around town while off-duty, but the truck’s clutch was tricky and would’ve been hell on his leg, but he was damned glad to have the extra horsepower at the moment. “Just so you know, I don’t plan on sticking to the speed limit.”
“No worries,” Tom assured him. “You might even get there before the cars that’ve already been dispatched.”
“So you gonna tell me what the hell happened?” Gabe demanded over the growl of the Charger’s engine as he started her up.
“Billy Monroe is dead,” Tom informed him.
Gabe’s stomach sank. His mouth was dry when he asked, “What? How?”
He heard Tom’s muffled curse and something about a turn signal. Apparently, he was en route to Elle’s house as well. A moment later, his brother replied, “Explosion this morning. Took out his house and part of the neighbor’s. The neighbors weren’t home, but Billy wasn’t so lucky.”
“You’re sure he was home?” Gabe said.
“Positive. The guys from Station Eleven got the fire put out and found his body inside. Well, part of it anyway.”
Gabe breathed a harsh curse. “You think it was Monroe? Do you think he found out Billy was supposed to come in tomorrow to give a statement?”
“If I was a betting man, that’d be what I’d put my money on,” Tom admitted. “But I’d also bet that there’s no way in hell we’ll be able to prove it.”
“Gotta be him,” Gabe agreed. “There was no way he was gonna let Billy get away with turning against the family. He’s not a ‘forgive and forget’ kind of guy.”
“How close are you now?” Tom asked.
Gabe narrowed his eyes, glancing at the small green street signs that zipped past him as he sped toward her house. “Couple more blocks,” he said, his heart racing faster the closer he got. Just then he saw the entrance to her subdivision and slowed slightly to take the turn. “Turning onto her street right now.”
He didn’t wait for his brother to respond before hanging up. He screeched to a halt outside her house and grabbed his service weapon from under the seat where he’d stowed it. He quickly checked the clip before getting out of the car and approaching the house, his Glock at the ready. When he got to her front door, he stood to one side and knocked loudly.
“Elle!” he called, his heart hammering. He pounded again on the door. “Elle, you okay?”
He was just about ready to kick open the fucking door when he heard the dead bolt turn and the door swung open to reveal Elle standing there in cutoff shorts, a T-shirt, and bare feet, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, tiny red spiral curls having slipped out to frame her face.
“Gabe?” she said, frowning. Her gaze darted over his shoulder to the other cars arriving, including Tom’s. “What the hell…?”
“You okay?” Gabe panted, the pain in his leg cutting right through him now that his adrenaline was beginning to ebb.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, pushing open the screen door and coming out onto the porch with him. “Can’t say the same about you. You look like shit.”
He attempted a grin. “Aww, honey, you say the sweetest things.”
“Elle okay?” Tom yelled.