Safe from Harm (Protect & Serve #2)(33)

Gabe eased down into a chair and scrubbed his face with his hands. “I was reading through Jeb Monroe’s blog. That guy scares the shit out of me, I don’t mind admitting.”

“You and me both.” Tom set a bowl in front of Gabe and took the seat across from him.

Elle’s seat.

Gabe pushed that thought away as soon as it occurred. One dinner didn’t mean anything. She’d needed someone to talk to. That was all it was—and probably a little pity thrown in for good measure.

He forced his thoughts back to his brother, who was wolfing down his cereal like a man on a mission. Tom wasn’t especially communicative anyway, but he was particularly closed off that morning.

“How you holdin’ up?” Gabe asked.

This brought Tom’s head up. “I’m fine. Why?”

“You killed a man,” Gabe said. “That’s not something you just shrug off, Tom.”

Tom swallowed slowly, then took a gulp of his coffee before he finally managed to meet Gabe’s gaze. “I’m dealing.”

“I don’t think I ever said thank you for saving my ass,” Gabe said.

Tom shrugged and managed another half grin. “I’ve been saving your ass for thirty-six years. Just add this one to the grand total. Now, eat your cereal, loser. I have to get to work.”

Gabe lifted his spoon in mock salute, then scooped a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, sending a covert glance Tom’s way as he ate. If the dark circles under his brother’s eyes were any indication, he hadn’t slept much better than Gabe.

Of course, he had a feeling Tom’s sleeplessness had started before the shooting of Mark Monroe. But he wasn’t going to bring up the subject of Tom’s deceased wife. His brother would come to him if he wanted to talk. That’s the way it’d always been. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be there for him when it came to the shooting.

“Mark Monroe knew what he was doing when he showed up at the courthouse,” Gabe said around a mouthful of cereal. “You know that, right?”

Tom nodded. “Yeah.”

“And you know if you hadn’t taken him down, he could’ve killed who knows how many innocent people,” Gabe continued.

Tom finished off his cereal and got to his feet to take his bowl to the sink. “That’s not the part that gives me nightmares, Gabe.” He braced his arms on the counter, his head hanging between his shoulders for a moment before he straightened and ran a hand over his dark hair in frustration. “You know, it never used to worry me that we were all in law enforcement. I mean, we’ve heard the lectures since we were kids about carrying on the Dawson legacy, making our family proud, protecting and serving the community. But after what happened…”

Gabe stared at his brother for a moment, taking in what he’d said. “We all knew what this job could cost us,” he said. “The Old Man lost our uncle to a hopped-up junkie in a routine traffic stop. And Carly…” His words trailed off at the heartbreaking look Tom sent his way. “My point is, it could happen to any of us.”

“But knowing that and watching it play out are two different things,” Tom said. “Seeing that fucker take aim at you…” Tom paused and shook his head. “In my nightmares I didn’t stop him in time, Gabe.”

Gabe’s stomach sank as the full extent of what his brother was going through hit him. “Shit, Bro. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

Tom shook his head. “It’s not you. I gotta deal with this. It’s not like you, Joe, and Kyle are gonna give up your careers. At least you’ll be a desk jockey for a while when you get back, so—”

“What?” Gabe interrupted. “You’re parking me?”

“Isa said—”

“Isa?” Gabe asked, cutting him off. “Who the fuck is Isa?”

“Dr. Isabel Morales,” Tom explained. “Your surgeon. She said you’d be on medical leave for a couple weeks and would then need to take it easy for a while until your leg is healed.”

“It’s a flesh wound, Tom,” Gabe shot back. “It’s not even as bad as what Joe had to deal with when he was wounded in Afghanistan, for shit’s sake!”

Tom crossed his arms, giving Gabe the look he always did when pulling rank—not just as the eldest Dawson brother, but as Gabe’s boss in the sheriff’s department as their father’s executive deputy. “It’s not up for discussion, Gabriel.”

Gabe shoved his cereal bowl away from him, sloshing some of the remaining milk onto the tabletop. “You sound more and more like the Old Man every day,” he muttered. “Since when do you call me Gabriel?”

“I already talked it over with Dad,” Tom informed him, grabbing a paper towel from the roll and wiping up the milk. “You’re taking a break, Gabe. It’s not a punishment. It’s for your own good.”

Gabe scoffed. “Bullshit. It’s for your own good, Tommy.”

Tom heaved a frustrated sigh and clenched his jaw, the muscle in his cheek ticking from the strain. “Maybe. But I’m not going to let you get yourself killed. And I know that if I put you back on the road, the first thing you’d do is go after Monroe.”

“Got news for you, Bro,” Gabe said. “I’m going after Monroe regardless of whether I’m on the road or stuck behind a desk. He left me a present last night—a hanged man in a noose. If that’s not an invitation to go kick his ass, then I don’t know what is.”