“Mom, I swear, I didn’t want to do any of this!” Jeremy cried, setting aside his gun and coming to his mother’s side, dropping down to his knees and taking her hands. “I swear it!”
“Untie me,” Elle ground out. “Please. Jeremy, you said you didn’t want to hurt me. I believe you. Help. Me.”
Jeremy swallowed hard. Then he shoved a hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a pocketknife, making quick work of the rope. Elle was instantly on her feet, desperate to get to Gabe.
She bolted toward the open front door, which had been closed just a moment before…
* * *
The same instant Gabe’s gun fired, a blow to his back brought him to his knees. But not before he saw James Monroe drop. Another blow to the back knocked the wind from his lungs and sent him face-planting into the grass.
In spite of the pain, he rolled over in time to see Jeb’s rifle aimed at him and he kicked hard, nailing that crazy-ass bastard Jeb in the kneecap with his boot. As the man fell to his knees, wailing in agony, Gabe scrambled to his feet and brought up his Glock, relieved as hell that some sick sense of honor must’ve prevented the bastard from shooting him in the back—or maybe he’d just wanted to see the look of fear in Gabe’s eyes before he killed him. Fuck if he knew. But this was ending now.
Monroe’s hand edged toward the rifle where it lay next to him on the grass. “Don’t move,” Gabe barked.
Monroe’s hand stilled.
Gabe heard the approaching sirens growing louder as the backup got closer but didn’t glance away from Monroe to see how close they were. “Leave the gun on the ground and get up slowly.”
Monroe took a deep breath, then managed to push himself up to his feet, favoring his knee. “You think this is over, Dawson? This is just the beginning. Now the world will be my audience. My message will spread through the discontent and usher in a new day.”
“Where’s Elle?” Gabe demanded.
“‘Deliver me, my God!’” Jeb called out over the wail of the sirens, ignoring Gabe’s question. “‘Strike all my enemies on the jaw; break the teeth of the—’”
When Gabe heard the report of the gunshot, for a split second, he thought he’d been ambushed, that this time he wasn’t going to be lucky enough to walk away from it. But then he saw Jeb drop.
Gabe’s head whipped toward the sound of the gunshot to see Sandra Monroe standing there holding a .22, her entire body trembling, tears streaming down her face. “Sandra, honey,” he said, edging toward her, “you need to put down the gun.”
In his periphery, Gabe saw several local police cars as well as his brothers arriving, getting into position to assess and assist.
“Gabe!”
Relief washed over him at the sound of Elle’s voice, and he sent a glance her way that he hoped conveyed how full his heart was at seeing her alive. But he held up a hand, motioning for her to stay where she was when she took a step forward to come to him, and turned his attention back to Sandra.
“Honey,” he said softly, “it’s okay now. Let me help you.”
Sandra blinked once and finally turned her eyes away from her father’s body to meet Gabe’s gaze. “Deputy Dawson.”
He gave her a slight smile. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m going to help you now. You just need to give me the gun.”
She stared at him for a moment, then nodded.
He came to her at an angle, holstering his Glock, then slowly reached out and took the gun from her trembling fingers. Then he gently put an arm around her shoulders and led her toward the line of police cars. He turned her over to his brother Tom and gave a terse nod to his father, who was on the radio calling for EMTs. Kyle was on his cell phone, most likely reporting on the situation to the FBI field office.
“Jeb’s other brother is behind the barn in cuffs,” Gabe muttered to no one in particular, motioning in the general direction of the outbuilding. Joe clapped him on the shoulder as he headed that way.
When he turned back around toward the house, the lawn was a sea of activity as local officers rushed forward to check on Jeb and James Monroe and to intercept Janice Monroe and her sons as they exited the house with their hands raised.
But it was pretty much all a blur. The only clarity in the chaos was Elle’s beautiful face as she rushed toward him. Then her arms were around his neck, holding him tightly. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her, letting the warmth of her love envelope him.
* * *
“Are you okay?” Elle asked when she pulled back enough to peer up into his face. Her heart was still racing, her head still spinning. He looked okay, but she had to be sure, had to hear him say it. Her voice broke when she said, “My God, Gabe, when I heard that gunshot, I thought—”
He stopped her words with a slow, tender kiss, and her heart was racing for an entirely different reason. When the kiss ended, Gabe took her face in his hands. “I’m fine,” he assured her, “now that I know you’re safe.”
“Where’s Joe?” she asked in a rush. “You have to get someone out to check on Sadie.”
