Safe from Harm (Protect & Serve #2)(88)

*

Gabe cursed under his breath as he lowered the man’s body to the ground and quickly rolled him onto his stomach to cuff his hands behind his back. The guy had come around the corner of the barn and taken Gabe by surprise, but, fortunately, Gabe’s reflexes kicked in faster than the other guy’s, and Gabe was able to get the drop on him and knock him out cold.

It was only after he’d laid the guy out with a final right hook that he’d recognized the man as Jeb’s brother David.

Gabe dragged the unconscious man around to the back of the barn so he was out of sight, then picked up his gun from where it’d landed during their brief scuffle. The son of a bitch most likely had a broken nose and would have one hell of a headache when he woke up, but he was alive.

Gabe crept along the edge of the barn and peered around corner, checking to see if anyone else was patrolling the perimeter. At that moment, another man came into view. Gabe recognized him right away. Jeb’s youngest brother, James Monroe. He should’ve known this asshole wouldn’t be far if something big was about to go down.

As soon as James had passed by Gabe, Gabe came out from around the barn, his Glock trained on the center of James’s back. “Drop your weapon, Monroe. And turn around slowly.”

The man went completely still, his muscles visibly tensing. Then he raised his arms and turned slowly as instructed, his rifle still in one hand. Once he was fully facing Gabe, the man’s lips curled into a smirk that sent a shiver down Gabe’s spine.

Ah, shit.

The guy was totally gonna go suicide-by-cop on him if he didn’t diffuse this situation seriously fucking fast.

“Put your weapon down,” Gabe ordered again. “There’s still time to walk away from this, James. There’s still time to end this peacefully. Don’t let your brother drag you down with him.”

James shook his head, his chilling grin widening. “You’re wrong, pig. Jeb’s going to usher in a new day for this country. And it starts today.”

Gabe heard sirens in the distance. Odds were it was the local police on their way to what had all the makings of a shoot-out that could end with casualties on both sides of the line.

In the next few moments, time seemed to slow to a crawl. James’s gaze flicked toward the road, where the police cars would soon be arriving, then back to Gabe. “‘And free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death,’” he called out, his voice raised. Then his face went blank and he dropped his hands, aiming his rifle at Gabe’s chest.

*

Elle started violently at the sound of the gunfire outside the house, her heart in her throat.

Oh God. Gabe.

“Untie me,” she pleaded with Jeremy. “Please! You know your father’s insane!” She turned her gaze to Janice. “Mrs. Monroe, you have to stop this. Your sons and daughter are in danger! Look what he’s already done to you.”

Janice blinked at Elle as if she was coming out of a trance, then let her gaze light on each of her children. “You’ll help them? You’ll make sure they’re all safe? That they won’t go to prison?”

Elle glanced frantically toward the door. “I can’t promise that—”

“Oh my God,” the woman moaned plaintively, her arms wrapped around her torso as she rocked.

“—but I’ll do what I can to make sure your son gets a fair trial, that they understand what his father has forced him to do.”

“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.”