Safe from Harm (Protect & Serve #2)(32)

Gabe jolted awake and glanced around the living room, wondering what it was that had awakened him so suddenly from his favorite dream for the past year or so—the one where he and Elle were tangled together on his bed, half-naked and straining toward each other, desperately wanting each other but holding back.

His frustration at being interrupted was only dampened by the adrenaline pumping in his veins as his fight-or-flight mode kicked in. Even though his sofa wasn’t directly across from the windows or his front door, Gabe suddenly felt very exposed. He moved silently, grasping the Glock he’d set on the sofa next to him after talking to Elle and ensuring she’d made it safely to Charlotte’s.

He’d locked his doors and set his alarm before dozing off on the couch, but something had brought him out of a deep sleep—and the dream. But as he sat there, listening intently for another sound, he didn’t hear anything.

He cursed under his breath and managed to get to his feet, grabbing one of his crutches as he limped to the window and peeked through the blinds. The neighborhood was quiet. Nobody was out and about at this late hour.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Where the hell are you, you son of a bitch?”

After a few moments, he made his way through the rest of the house, checking the doors, peering outside through other windows to get a different vantage point. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Shit, for all he knew, just the normal pops and creaks of a fifty-year-old house settling could’ve been what he’d heard.

He heaved a relieved sigh and checked his watch.

Three a.m.

Christ, it was going to be a long night if every little noise was going to have him on edge like this. But now that he was completely awake, sleep was out of the question. He made his way to his office and powered on his laptop.

An hour later, he’d checked both his work and personal email, and had caught up on the news he’d missed while in the hospital, but the adrenaline-infused tension still had every muscle in his body taut and ready for a fight.

He heaved a frustrated sigh.

Hell, he might as well make use of the time if he wasn’t going to be going back to sleep. Besides, some of his best investigating was done on sleepless nights just like this one, when his thoughts wouldn’t stop churning, trying to connect the dots that would help him solve the most stubborn cases.

He brought up a browser and, after a couple of minutes, found his way to Jeb Monroe’s blog. If he was gonna bring the bastard down, the first thing he needed to do was really get into his head. The antigovernment tirades on his blog were a good place to start.

Four hours later, Gabe jolted awake again. Not because of a suspicious noise this time, but because his head had slipped from where he’d been resting it against his fist and he’d nailed his forehead on his keyboard.

Nice.

Gabe pulled a hand down his face, wondering how long he’d dozed off while reading Monroe’s blog. He’d managed to get through dozens of posts before he’d run out of steam, but it was enough to have him shaking his head in disbelief.

The man was completely delusional. He’d read his fair share of rants about the government and law enforcement—some of them even well supported by evidence and incredibly persuasive. He could see how people already frustrated and discontent could buy into what these groups were saying. But Monroe… The guy was a fucking nutjob. And the people following him and leaving comments were just as crazy.

The bullshit he was spewing was so far beyond a run-of-the-mill conspiracy theory that Gabe half expected to see the guy walking down the street with a foil hat one of these days. But his followers were bordering on the fanatical. Given a few more years to recruit, Jeb Monroe could easily reach cult status.

Gabe yawned and stretched, then got to his feet and grabbed one of his crutches, intending to make his way to his bedroom and collapse onto the bed when his doorbell rang.

He frowned and glanced at his watch again. It was just past seven o’clock. Who the hell would be dropping by at this time of morning?

Gabe grabbed his gun from the desk, where he’d set it the night before, and tucked it into the waistband of his pants at the small of his back before heading to his front door. He carefully peered through the peephole and let out a relieved sigh. He quickly disengaged his alarm and unlocked the door.

“Tom?” he said, surprised to find his brother standing on his doorstep. “What are you doing here?”

Tom gestured with the cardboard drink carrier he had in his hand. “Brought you coffee. Thought you might need it.”

“Uh, yeah,” Gabe said. “Thanks. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

Tom grunted. “Figured as much.”

Gabe stepped aside. “Come on in. Have you had any breakfast?”

“Nah,” Tom said, heading for the kitchen. “I’ll make you something. What’ll it be? Cocoa Puffs or Froot Loops?”

Gabe chuckled. “I see your culinary skills haven’t improved since we were kids.”

Tom gave him a hint of a grin, which was about all anyone got out of the guy these days. “Yeah, well, I never claimed to be a god in the kitchen.”

“So many comebacks, so little time, Bro,” Gabe said, shaking his head. “I’m going to take pity on your sorry ass because you brought me coffee and let that one go unanswered.”

Tom sent a wry glance over his shoulder as he grabbed cereal bowls from the cabinet. “You must be tired. You’ve never missed the chance to be a smart-ass.”