He hoped she was right, because he’d felt for a while now he’d been letting Chris down by not doing more for Jessica and the kids. And although he wanted to respect Jessica’s wishes and not make her grieving any harder than it already was, he’d promised Chris when his friend had gotten married that if anything ever happened, he’d look after Jess.
A few minutes later, they were pulling into Elle’s driveway. He got out and did a quick scan of the house and the surrounding area, looking for anything suspicious. Except for a few people out and about working on their yards and some kids riding their bikes, the neighborhood was quiet. A typical summer Sunday.
She came jogging up beside him with a small handful of mail and unlocked the front door. “Make yourself at home,” she said, flipping through the mail as she headed down the hall toward her bedroom. “I’ll only be a few min—”
A loud thump and a strangled sob made every muscle in Gabe’s body tense.
“Elle?” he called as he sprinted for the hallway. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. The mail was scattered all over the floor except for a single letter she held in her hands. And on her lap was a small pile of photos.
“Elle, honey?” he said, crouching in front of her. “What is it?”
She turned her eyes up to him, her expression so stricken, his protective urge made his blood boil with fury before he even took the sheet of paper from her hand. It was a copy of a newspaper article about the car accident that claimed the life of the McCoy family, complete with a photo of the car, torn all to hell by the impact. In the foreground of the picture was a little girl’s shoe.
Gabe’s hand clenched into a fist and it was all he could do not to punch a hole in the wall. “That motherfucker. I’m going to rip his fucking head off.”
“Gabe,” Elle said, her voice quavering.
He looked away from the letter to see her holding up the photos, her hand shaking so badly two of the photos fell from her grasp and back onto her lap. Frowning, he took them from her and let fly a string of furious curses. The pictures were copies of crime scene photos. The individuals were horrifically injured, but he could still recognize them as Elle’s mother and sisters.
“Jesus Christ,” he hissed. “How the hell did he even get access to these?”
There was only one answer—someone Monroe knew had somehow gained access to the criminal case against the man who’d killed Elle’s family. The photos would’ve been part of the evidence against him. That asshole Monroe had a connection at a courthouse or law office somewhere.
Elle’s quiet sobs brought his attention back to her, and he set aside the letter and photos to take her face in his hands and press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry, honey,” he murmured, his throat constricting with emotion, his heart aching, knowing the kind of pain she had to be experiencing. He moved out of his crouch to take a seat beside her and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. He held her as she cried, kissing her hair, murmuring endearments to her, knowing it wasn’t nearly enough.
“Why would he do this?” she asked as her tears subsided. “Why be so cruel?”
Gabe shook his head. “I have no idea. Maybe in Monroe’s mind, it’s a way to get back at you for the loss of his son.”
Elle angrily swiped away her tears. “I’m not letting that asshole get to me,” she ground out. Her lips pressed together in a determined line, she got to her feet and stormed to her bedroom. Gabe could hear drawers opening and then slamming shut as he followed her to her room.
He leaned against the doorframe as he watched her tear off her clothes and change into an orange-and-yellow sundress. She looked like a living, breathing flame, the anger radiating off of her magnifying the impression.
“My God, you’re beautiful,” he told her, his heart hammering in his chest at the sight of her. Was it really possible this fiery, brilliant, breathtaking woman cared for him, maybe even loved him? What the hell had he done to deserve such a gift?
Her expression immediately softened at his words, her cheeks flushing. “The way you say that makes me believe it.”
“Good,” he said, shoving off the doorframe and walking toward her to fold her into his embrace. “I hope you don’t get tired of hearing it because I intend to tell you every single day…if you’ll let me.”
Her arms tightened around his waist. “I think I can live with that.”
He held her for several minutes, offering what strength he could. Eventually, she eased out of his arms and sighed. “We should probably go.”
He lifted his brows. “You still want to go to Teddy’s party?”