Книга - The Marshal’s Hostage

The Marshal's Hostage
Delores Fossen


Secrets had torn them apart…and reunited them in a way neither had expectedShe is the last person Dallas Walker ever wants to see again. Still, this U.S. Marshal has no problem taking Joelle Tate into "protective custody"–on her wedding day. To save his family from unjust charges, he'd take on a lot worse than an ex-flame he couldn't trust. But Dallas doesn't know Joelle has put her freedom on the line to protect him. Now with only two days to investigate a long-buried crime no one wants solved, they must confront their past mistakes, and the shattering secret that drove them apart. Giving in to the simmering desire may lead to an impossible second chance–or help set a trap one calculating killer can't wait to spring.…







SECRETS HAD TORN THEM APART…AND REUNITED THEM IN A WAY NEITHER HAD EXPECTED

She Is the last person Dallas Walker ever wants to see again. Still, this U.S. Marshal has no problem taking Joelle Tate into “protective custody”—on her wedding day. To save his family from unjust charges, he’d take on a lot worse than an ex-flame he couldn’t trust. But Dallas doesn’t know Joelle has put her freedom on the line to protect him. Now with only two days to investigate a long-buried crime no one wants solved, they must confront their past mistakes, and the shattering secret that drove them apart. Giving in to the simmering desire may lead to an impossible second chance—or help set a trap one calculating killer can’t wait to spring.…


“Tell me why this is a bad idea,” Dallas said.

He slid his hand around the back of Joelle’s neck, angling her head. Angling her body, too, with the grip he still had on her waist. They were pressed against each other like lovers now.

“Because you can’t forgive me?” she managed. “Because you hate me?”

He was right in her face, and she saw that register in his eyes. Both valid reasons. Well, the first one anyway. That didn’t look like hate in all those swirls of blue in his eyes. No hate in his body, either. His breath was uneven. Heart racing.

“Because we don’t have time for this.” Joelle tried again. “And because you’d regret it.”

Dallas kept staring for what seemed an eternity, and even though he didn’t move, her body seemed to think it was about to get lucky with Dallas. Everything inside her was melting, urging her to do what Dallas had so far resisted.

Like kiss him…


The Marshal’s Hostage

USA TODAY Bestselling Author

Delores Fossen






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why USA TODAY bestselling author and former air force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she were genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.


CAST OF CHARACTERS

Marshal Dallas Walker—He was raised in the notorious Rocky Creek orphanage, and the past he’d rather forget comes crashing back when his old flame is assigned to investigate a murder that could ultimately send him or his foster father to jail. Dallas has to walk a fine line between the law, family duty and a woman he just can’t get out of his mind.

Joelle Tate—She, too, was brought up at Rocky Creek, and even though she’s fighting the old attraction with Dallas, she also has secrets that put them on a collision course with not just the past but with new danger.

Kirby Granger—Sixteen years ago this now retired marshal rescued Dallas and five other boys from Rocky Creek, but he might have cut corners to do that.

Sarah Webb—The widow of the tyrannical headmaster at Rocky Creek. She could know more about her husband Jonah’s murder than she’s saying.

Owen Palmer—He and Dallas and Joelle have a shared past that wasn’t always pleasant, and now he seems to be willing to do anything to make Joelle his wife.

Lindsey Downing—Owen’s assistant, who is jealous of Joelle. But is she behind the attempts to kill Joelle and Dallas?

Rudy Simmons—The crusty groundskeeper at Rocky Creek. He claims he knows nothing about the headmaster’s murder, but Dallas and Joelle aren’t so sure.


Contents

Chapter One (#uf8dd6881-8ddd-5477-9e8b-0c13bc3de4a7)

Chapter Two (#u769c0a90-9fcb-586a-813a-0e7a69df8bbc)

Chapter Three (#u28713d8d-4022-5819-b4de-1862405f8939)

Chapter Four (#u63db6652-4265-5f0d-b5e3-5b1ca7baaf0b)

Chapter Five (#u442879d2-8444-5b9f-a203-036bd3463515)

Chapter Six (#uc92ecf08-e453-5328-ab98-088b65d9fa54)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

Marshal Dallas Walker studied the three men milling around in front of the Maverick Springs church. All were dressed in nondescript black suits, but judging from the bulges beneath their coats, they were carrying weapons.

So, what were armed guests doing at a wedding?

Joelle’s wedding.

Just thinking those two words put a knot in his gut, and seeing those armed men only made the knot even tighter.

Something wasn’t right here—on many levels.

Dallas eased his hand over the Glock .22 in his holster and walked up the limestone path that led to the front door. As expected, he got the attention of all three men. They snapped toward him, and one whispered something into the communicator that he had strapped to his wrist.

The biggest one, a bald guy with linebacker-size shoulders, stepped forward to block Dallas’s way. “Are you a guest of the bride or groom?” he asked, none too friendly.

Dallas debated his answer for a split second and decided to go with what would get him inside the church the fastest and with the least amount of trouble.

If that was possible.

He tapped his badge, which was clipped to his belt. “I’m Marshal Dallas Walker. Move or I’ll move you.”

Yeah, it wasn’t very friendly, either, but at least he’d given them an option. Of sorts. One way or the other, they were moving.

The man’s jaw turned to iron, and he glanced at the one with the communicator. That one lifted his wrist and was about to say something into the device, probably something that would cause an ugly confrontation with these goons and the groom. But the squeaky sound and movement behind them had them all reaching for their weapons.

False alarm.

The sound was coming from a window being lifted in the century-old church. And there she was.

Joelle.

She looked out at him from behind the mesh window screen. No wedding dress, but she was wearing a white robe, and the April breeze took a swipe at the dark blond hair she had piled on her head. She gave all of them a glare.

Especially Dallas.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped.

“Seeing you,” Dallas snapped right back.

And for good measure, he returned the glare, too. It wasn’t hard to do. Once, when he was seventeen and stupid, he’d been in love with Joelle Tate, but it sure wasn’t love he was feeling right now.

Far from it.

He wanted to wring her neck.

“We have to talk,” Dallas insisted, and he elbowed his way through the trio of guards and hurried up the church steps.

He was on borrowed time now because it wouldn’t be long before the groom, Owen Palmer, found out he was there, and Owen would not be a happy buckaroo about Dallas’s arrival.

Get in line.

A lot of people wouldn’t be happy about this little visit, but by God, he was not going to let Joelle get away with this.

Since his foster father, Kirby Granger, had brought Dallas and his brothers to this church plenty of times, Dallas knew the way through the mazelike corridors to the side room where Joelle was. He found her, all right. Waiting for him in the doorway.

And she was still glaring.

“Owen and I are getting married in an hour,” Joelle informed him.

That sentence sounded as unright to him as the armed guards and the big fat diamond ring on her finger, but the wedding wasn’t the reason for his visit. Nope. If Joelle had fallen in love with a weasel like Owen, then they deserved each other. Dallas had written her out of his life ages ago.

He took her by the arm and moved her back into the room. “We’ll talk fast.”

That definitely didn’t help her glare. “Owen will be here soon.”

“Then we’ll talk faster.”

There were two women in the room, both wearing flowing yellow dresses, and he figured they were Joelle’s friends from Austin, where she’d lived for the past four years or so. One of them was holding a big puffy wad of silk and lace.

The wedding dress, no doubt.

Dallas turned to the women and hitched his thumb to the door. “I need to talk to Joelle alone.” And yeah, he added some attitude to that request because he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

The now wide-eyed women looked at Joelle, obviously waiting to see if it was safe for them to leave. With her glare still fastened on Dallas, she nodded.

“We’ll only be a minute,” Joelle explained, making it sound like a threat. To him.

The woman holding the dress eased it onto a chair as if the darn thing might break in half, and she crept out with her friend. The moment the pair was out of the room, Dallas shut the door and locked it.

“I won’t let you do this,” Dallas began.

And Joelle knew what he meant. This had nothing to do with the wedding to a weasel. That was just an added irritation and even more of one because he shouldn’t have cared a pig’s hair if she was getting married.

But hell’s Texas bells, she was marrying Owen.

Joelle threw off his grip and huffed. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice. You didn’t return my calls, and your hoity-toity sounding assistant said you were leaving on a monthlong honeymoon.”

Her spicy brown eyes narrowed to the point that he was surprised she could even see him. “I didn’t return your calls because there’s nothing I can discuss with you.”

“Wrong answer, try again,” Dallas fired back. “We have plenty to discuss.”

She opened her mouth, but her cell phone buzzed. She took a step toward the chair arm where the phone was lying, and Joelle looked at the caller ID on the screen. She mumbled some profanity. Dallas glanced at the screen, too, and he saw the call was from Owen.

“Excuse me a second,” she grumbled, and snatched up the phone. “Everything’s okay,” she greeted her groom-to-be.

Dallas just listened. Except Joelle wasn’t saying anything. Owen was doing all the talking, and Dallas couldn’t make out a word the weasel was saying. But he could guess the gist of the one-sided conversation that was making every muscle in Joelle’s body go stiff.

Owen likely wanted to know why Joelle’s ex-lover was in her dressing room at the church just—Dallas checked the time—fifty-one minutes before she was to become Owen’s bride.

“I’ll take care of this,” Joelle said, and she jabbed the end button. She whirled back around to face him. “You have to go.”

As if that would get him to budge. “You’re within days, maybe hours, of sending your report to the governor.” Who also happened to be her boss.

A report that could crush Dallas a thousand times over.

She huffed again and put her hands on her hips. The move caused the sides of her robe to open in a vee, and he got a glimpse of a lacy white bra and her right nipple that the lace in no way concealed.

Dallas felt that old familiar tug, deep within his body, and he told that tug to take a fast hike. Joelle was no longer a woman he wanted in his bed.

And he was almost certain of that.

Almost.

But just in case he had doubts about it, he didn’t have any doubts about the woman herself. Sexual stuff might still be lingering between them, but he didn’t want her in his life.

No way.

She’d made her choice sixteen years ago. A choice that had broken his stupid teenage heart. And yeah, that was a long time ago, but forgiving and forgetting weren’t what he saw himself doing when it came to Joelle. Actually, to anybody.

“The report?” he reminded her. Reminded himself, too. And he cursed that blasted nipple-peek for distracting him.

“My report is just that, a report of my observations. The local sheriff at Rocky Creek is already investigating the case, but the governor wants to know if he should request the Texas Rangers to go in and assist. So he’ll read what I’ve written and decide what to do.”

No. It wasn’t just a report. And as for the sheriff’s investigation, that wasn’t going anywhere. The sheriff had only been on the job a few months, had little experience in law enforcement. No. If anyone found anything incriminating, it’d be Joelle and her team of hotshot investigators that she had crawling all over the state.

Dallas aimed his index finger at her. “This report could destroy Kirby.” His foster father. And a man he darn sure wouldn’t see destroyed.

Joelle dodged his gaze, turned, and gave him another view of that blasted bra. The left nipple this time. Great day in the morning! He didn’t need this.

Nor the other thing he saw.

He’d missed it at first because the pendant was literally tucked in her bra, but it shifted, slipped out, and he spotted the gold heart locket. Not a flashy piece, this one was coated with fine scratches and even a little tarnish. It looked like the one he’d given her for her sixteenth birthday, but he had to be wrong about that. And even if he wasn’t, if it was indeed the same necklace, maybe it was the “something old” part of her bridal garb.

Dallas wondered whose picture was inside it now.

Definitely not his.

“This isn’t a good time for the cat to get your tongue,” Dallas reminded her.

Again, she opened her mouth to say something, but there was a knock at the door before she could get out even a syllable. Both of them groaned and cursed the interruption. At this rate, the day would be over before he got answers.

“Ignore it,” Dallas insisted.

Another knock. “Joelle, it’s me, Lindsey. Owen called and wanted me to check on you.”

Joelle did the opposite of ignoring it. She stepped around him, unlocked the door and threw it open. The tall, curvy brunette peered in, first at Joelle and then at Dallas.

“Are you, uh, okay?” she asked Joelle.

“I’m fine,” Joelle snapped. She followed the woman’s gaze to the lacy bra, cursed again and jerked the robe shut. “My friend was just leaving.”

“No. He’s not,” Dallas said. “Not until we get this straight.”

Lindsey volleyed concerned looks between them, and she handed Joelle the plastic cup she was holding. “Jack Daniel’s, straight up,” she told Joelle. “I figured you could use it.”

“I can.” Joelle took the shot in one gulp. “I won’t be long,” she added, sounding even more riled than Dallas was.

Joelle whirled around, put her back to the door and faced him head-on. “I can’t do this now. Please go.”

The please gave him a few seconds pause. She hadn’t said it in anger—something he knew firsthand that she was pretty good at—but rather in a breathy whisper. Still, he couldn’t let a breathy plea stop him.

“We settle this now,” he insisted.

She groaned and scratched her head, mussing more of that perfect hairdo. “If Kirby did something wrong all those years ago, then I can’t keep it hidden away.”

Something wrong? Yeah. More like something right. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you, but sixteen years ago Kirby got me and my foster brothers out of that hellhole.”

In this case, the hellhole was the Rocky Creek Children’s Facility. A down-home name for a notorious orphanage that had nearly destroyed him.

“Kirby may have pulled strings to get custody of you,” she added, then swallowed hard. “Not just you, but the others. Clayton, Harlan, Slade, Wyatt. And especially Declan.”

All five of his foster brothers. Yeah, there might have been an irregularity or two in the paperwork that had given Kirby guardianship and then full custody. But if Kirby hadn’t gotten them out, none of them might be alive right now. They sure as heck wouldn’t all be deputy U.S. marshals and running a successful ranch.

“Kirby may have done some other things to make sure custody wasn’t contested,” Joelle added in a whisper.

Dallas knew exactly what she meant because he’d already gotten wind of her so-called report that the governor would use to determine if the Texas Rangers should open a full-scale investigation against Kirby. An investigation that could lead to some charges.

Including murder.

Now it was Dallas’s turn to swallow hard. He couldn’t let that happen to Kirby.

The photos of the dead man’s bones flashed through his head. They’d been found seven weeks ago, a little over a mile from the now abandoned Rocky Creek facility. A crew working on the power lines had uncovered it.

Jonah Webb’s body.

The devil of a man who’d once run Rocky Creek and someone who’d been missing for sixteen years.

“Jonah’s rib cage showed signs of knife wounds,” Joelle explained.

Something else he didn’t need to be reminded of. And that brought back another set of images that Dallas would rather forget. “I read the forensic reports.”

He’d also studied the police file and the official notification from the governor to authorize Joelle, one of the state’s legal advisers, to conduct an independent inquiry to determine what had gone on at the state-run facility all those years ago.

“My father didn’t kill Jonah Webb,” Dallas concluded.

Something went through her eyes. Not a glare this time, but something he couldn’t quite figure out. “The governor’s a fair man.”

That gave Dallas zero reassurance. “If there’s something in your report that implicates my father, and I’m pretty sure there is, then the governor will have no choice but to make it an official investigation.”

She blew out a long breath, swiped some of those now dangling strands of hair from her face.

He waited, mentally rehearsing the argument to make her amend that report. Or burn it. Or just plain lie. “Arresting my father wouldn’t be justice, and you know it.”

“Yes, but it would be the law,” she snapped.

“To hell with the law.” Dallas nearly winced at his own words. He was a federal marshal, sworn to obey the very laws that might take his father from him.

He forced himself to regain what little composure he could. “My father’s not in good health and might not survive something like this.” That caused the anger to roar through him again. “You can stop it now.”

She shook her head, and yet something different went through her eyes. Not emotion exactly, but she got a weird glazed look.

Joelle touched her fingers to her forehead, and the plastic cup slipped from her hand and clattered onto the hardwood floor. “You have to go.”

Like the please, that was all breath.

Dallas looked at the cup on the floor. At the dress. And then at her. “What’s going on?”

“I’m marrying Owen,” she said. Still whispered, except this time there was a tremble in her voice. Her hands were shaking, too.

Dallas caught her arm. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, and her eyelids fluttered down. “I think someone drugged me.” Her words were so slurred that it took him a moment to realize what she’d said.

“Drugged you?”

Ah, hell.

What the devil was going on here?

“It’s not safe for either of us,” she mouthed through those trembling peach-tinged lips.

And with that, Joelle crumpled right into his arms.


Chapter Two

Joelle couldn’t stop herself from falling. The dizziness hit her hard and fast, and if Dallas hadn’t caught her, she would have dropped to the floor.

Oh, mercy.

The drink had been drugged with something. She was sure of it. But she couldn’t take the time to berate herself for downing it like water.

She had to get Dallas out of there now.

“You have to go,” she repeated. Except she hardly recognized her own words. She sounded like a drunk. Felt like one, too.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dallas snarled, and he scooped her up in his arms.

Joelle shook her head and prayed she could convince him to leave. Unfortunately, her mouth was partly numb, and the words didn’t come.

“Who drugged you?” he demanded. “Why did you say it wasn’t safe for either of us?”

She’d said that last part because her suddenly fuzzy brain had let it slip. As for the first question, she knew who was responsible for this, but telling Dallas that would open a Pandora’s box that should remain closed.

Joelle prayed that whatever drug she’d been given would wear off quickly and that it wouldn’t be harmful.

Dallas carried her across the room, deposited her on the love seat and took out his cell phone. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No!” Joelle used every bit of her strength, which wasn’t much, to latch on to his wrist. “You can’t. I’ll be okay. Just give me a second to catch my breath.”

He stared at her, those intense blue eyes drilling holes in her and with the familiar star badge on his belt right in her face. Both Dallas and the badge were swimming in and out of focus, but Joelle knew that neither was going anywhere until she gave him some kind of explanation.

Or rather until she gave him a lie.

It had to be a quick one since she figured Owen would be there in ten minutes or less.

“I’ve been having anxiety attacks,” she said, and the lie began. “Lindsey probably saw one coming on and gave me my meds in the drink.” To add some detail to the lie, she dropped her head back on the love seat arm. “I need a quick nap before the wedding.”

But more than that, she needed Dallas gone.

He still didn’t budge. Dallas stood there, all six feet three inches of him. A real Texas cowboy cop as his name implied, in his jeans, white button-down shirt and cowboy boots. Oh, and the midnight-black Stetson that was the same color as his rumpled hair.

Because she’d seen him stark naked, she knew that black hair was sprinkled on his chest. She also knew he had a body that could make her go all hot. His body hadn’t been the issue when they’d been together as teenagers. Nor the sex. With Dallas, it’d been powder keg and fireworks.

The problem had been with, well, everything else.

Dallas glanced at her wedding dress again, the cup on the floor and then his lethal stare came back to her.

No.

Even through the whirlwind in her head, Joelle could see that he was piecing together things that should never be pieced.

“Why are you marrying Owen?” He used his marshal’s voice, the one that had no doubt gotten him many confessions.

She’d have to lie again. Except this one would be a whopper. “Because I love him.”

Joelle hoped she sounded believable, but judging from Dallas’s worsening glare, she hadn’t even come close.

“I’m pregnant,” she tried again.

He stooped down, violating her personal space, and he put his face just inches from hers. “Liar. If you were pregnant, you wouldn’t have had a shot of Jack Daniel’s.”

He had her on that particular lie, but Joelle still had to do something, anything, to convince him to leave. “Go, please, for old times’ sake.”

“You don’t have any old times’ sake favors left. You’re the one who walked out on me, and now you’re trying to destroy my father.”

She started to shake her head, but it only made the dizziness worse so she stopped. It made the dizziness worse to sit up as well, but Joelle had to keep watching out the front window for Owen.

Dallas took out his phone again. “Tell me why you said it wasn’t safe for either of us, or I’m calling that ambulance now.”

Joelle pressed her fingertips to her temples to calm the storm inside. “Because Owen is jealous of you. And he has a bad temper.” That was the truth, on both counts.

“Yeah. He does.” And that’s all Dallas said for several heart-stopping moments. “If you’re so scared of him, then why are you marrying him? And don’t give me that nonsense about loving him.”

“But I do love him,” she insisted. Of course, it was another Texas-size lie.

Dallas made a skeptical sound in his throat and went to press the buttons on his phone. Joelle couldn’t let him make that call.

“Don’t.” She grabbed his arm and put some steel in her voice. Well, as much steel as she could manage considering the drug haze was taking over her entire body.

“When I look at you...” She had to pause and force her mouth to work. “Uh, I think of all those years it took me to get over you. I, um, feel the hurt...the anger.”

“You feel all that, huh?” he growled.

“All that.” Joelle hoped these words she was trying to say would make enough sense to get him to leave. “I feel disgusted with myself.” Another pause. “Disgusted that you wouldn’t give me a second chance.”

“I don’t give second chances. Ever.”

“Believe me, I know. You’re not capable of forgiveness. You’re a cold, hard man, Dallas Walker.”

There. She’d gotten it all out. Yes, it stung to say that, but it was God’s honest truth, and maybe the truth would hurt him enough to get those cowboy boots moving toward the door.

It didn’t.

Mercy. Joelle had to take another verbal jab at him. She also had to take another breath before she continued. “I’ll bury the report that I’m supposed to give to the governor. Kirby is safe. Now, get the heck out of here.”

That should have done it. Should have gotten Dallas moving to leave. But he just kept staring at her.

Joelle cursed. The dizziness was getting worse, and she would probably lose consciousness soon.

“I hate you,” she managed to say.

And she wished that were true. Except at the moment she did hate him for not doing something he had to do—leave.

“I will get to the bottom of this,” Dallas threatened. He huffed, and his expression softened. “But I need to call that ambulance so you can go to the hospital. If Owen has a hissy fit because I’m here, then I’ll protect you from him.”

“You can’t.” But Joelle was instantly sorry she’d said that.

There it was again. That flash in his lawman’s eyes. She was digging her own grave here.

And his.

Think.

She had to do something to defuse this situation.

If she could get into the adjoining bathroom, maybe she could crawl out the window and go to the front of the church where Owen would soon arrive. She could kiss him while Dallas watched. It would turn her stomach to do that, but it might be the very thing to convince Dallas to leave so that she could go through with the vows.

Joelle shoved her elbows against the love seat so she could lever herself up. Not easily. But she managed to get to her feet by holding on to the armrest. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

He stared at her. “I’ll go with you.”

She huffed. “I have to go to the bathroom. I don’t need company for that.”

“No, but you do need help. You can’t walk.”

True. But that wouldn’t stop her.

Well, hopefully not.

She let go of the armrest but immediately had to catch onto something or she would have fallen. Unfortunately, she caught onto Dallas.

Joelle was suddenly engulfed in his strong arms. And against his chest. Her face landed right against his neck, and she drew in his scent with the breath that she fought to take. It was a scent she knew too well, one that triggered old thoughts and feelings that could never be triggered again.

“Sorry,” she mumbled when her hand landed against the front of his jeans. She mumbled another apology when she realized her robe had fallen open and that his hand was now against the lacy side panel of her bra.

Judging from the way his breathing changed, Dallas was battling some old triggers, too. Normally, that would have pleased her; after all, he’d crushed her heart all those years ago. Tormenting him was something she’d fantasized about doing.

But there was nothing gratifying about this situation.

Besides, she’d crushed his heart, too.

Joelle pushed herself away from him and slapped her hand on the wall. She used it for support so she could make her way to the bathroom. Thankfully, the door was already ajar because just seconds before Dallas had arrived, Joelle had been using the mirror to touch up her hair and makeup. Something she would have to do again.

She still had to go through with those vows.

Each step was a major effort, but Joelle finally made it inside the tiny bathroom. She used her elbow to shut the door. Managed, somehow, to lock it. And then made as much of a beeline as possible toward the window.

The dizziness was getting worse, maybe because she was moving, but Joelle tried to fight her way through it. Then she tripped over the bunched up rug and landed with a thud against the windowsill.

“Joelle?” Dallas called out. He knocked on the door. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she lied.

She anchored her body against the wall, lifted the window and pushed out the screen. It would be a tight fit, but there was no other option. She climbed onto the toilet seat to lever herself up.

“Joelle!” Dallas shouted again. “To hell with modesty. Open up so I can see you.”

“In a second. I’m almost done.”

Joelle got her arm through the window and looked down at the ground. Not a long drop, but she doubted she’d land on her feet. She got the other arm on the sill.

Just as there was a loud cracking sound behind her.

She looked over her shoulder to see that Dallas had kicked down the door. He had his gun drawn, and his gaze fired around the tiny room. He cursed and reholstered his gun when he saw that she was alone.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

But he didn’t wait for an answer. He hurried to her, hauled her onto his shoulder caveman style and carried her back into the dressing room.

That’s when she saw the dark green Range Rover squeal to a stop in front of the church.

Owen.

Joelle struggled to get out of Dallas’s grip, but he held on and turned to see what had captured her attention. Owen, dressed in a tux, stepped from the vehicle and walked toward the men who worked for him. She had only seconds now to diffuse this mess.

She watched as Owen spoke to his employees. The bald one pointed to the window, but she hoped Dallas and she were too far away for Owen to see them.

“I have to talk to him,” she insisted.

“No. You don’t,” Dallas disagreed.

Joelle groaned because that was the pigheaded tone she’d encountered too many times to count.

“I’ll be the one to talk to Owen,” Dallas informed her. “I want to find out what’s going on.”

Joelle managed to slide out of his grip and put her feet on the floor. She latched on to his arm to stop him from going to the door. “You can’t. You have no idea how bad things can get if you do that.”

He stopped, and stared at her. “Does all of this have something to do with your report to the governor?”

She blinked, but Joelle tried to let that be her only reaction. “No.”

More staring. Before Dallas glanced out the window. Owen had finished talking to his men and turned toward the church steps. She was down to mere seconds now. Not much time to get Dallas out of there.

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Dallas demanded.

“I can’t. It’s too dangerous.” Joelle was ready to start begging him to leave. But she didn’t have time to speak.

Dallas hooked his arm around her, lifted her and tossed her back over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Joelle tried to get away, tried to get back on her feet, but he held on tight.

Dallas threw open the dressing room door and started down the hall with her. “I’m kidnapping you.”


Chapter Three

There was a split second of time where Dallas thought about what he was doing. And what he was doing was a crime.

A felony, no less.

He didn’t consider himself a lawbreaker, but he had stretched and bent it a few times to get justice. And for that split second he wondered if there was a different way to go about this. He didn’t want to call his foster brothers and involve them, but he did consider calling the locals. He knew the sheriff was a fair man.

But this wasn’t exactly a fair situation.

No. He couldn’t involve the locals because there wasn’t enough time to get them out to the church to stop this. Plus, Dallas had to stay with Joelle, to convince her not to release that report. If given the chance, Owen would just whisk her away, and Dallas figured Owen—and apparently Joelle, too—would do anything and everything to prevent him from seeing her in the near future. The report would be released, and Kirby would be arrested.

That was a solid enough reason to get her away from Owen, but then he heard Owen’s footsteps in the church entry and listened to Joelle’s slurred, drugged protests to let her go.

And Dallas had no choice.

It wasn’t safe for her to be here. It wasn’t safe for him to involve law enforcement. And that meant he had to get out of there fast.

Dallas didn’t know what was going on, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t get the answers from Owen. He had a long, bad history with the man he’d once shared a room with at the orphanage, and that history wouldn’t get better. In fact, it was about to come to a hot boil if he learned that Owen was the one who’d drugged Joelle.

Yeah.

He would bend the law to get back at Owen for doing that.

Dallas passed by the room where the two wedding attendants were hovering. They were no doubt aware that something bad was in the air, but they didn’t run out to try to rescue Joelle.

Later, he’d want to know why.

For now, he had enough questions and very little time to get Joelle out of there so he could get some answers. Answers that didn’t involve lies about loving Owen and a feigned pregnancy.

“Where you takin’ me?” Joelle asked. The slurring was getting worse, and when she hit her fists against his back, they landed like limp thuds.

Dallas made his way through the back corridors that had been built as additions to the old Victorian church. He knew the way because he’d used the halls to find his foster brother, Declan, when he’d sneak out for a smoke when he was supposed to be attending Sunday school.

“Owen,” Joelle mumbled.

And for a moment Dallas thought she’d seen her groom. A glance over his shoulder verified they had the hall to themselves. But he did hear Owen calling out for her. It wouldn’t be long before Owen made his way to them.

Dallas bolted out the back door and past the catering truck that was carting stuff into the fellowship hall. No doubt where the reception was supposed to be held. It was a cheap and plain venue for a man as stinkin’ rich as Owen.

But there were a lot of fishy things about this wedding.

Two guys carrying a wedding cake looked over at Dallas, but he only pointed to his badge. He didn’t speak to them, didn’t slow down. Dallas ran across the groomed back lawn where, over the years, he’d attended church picnics and chatted up a few girls.

There was a heavily treed area just ahead, and Dallas raced into it. Not in a straight line. That’s because he figured Owen or one of his armed goons had already made it to the back of the church, and Dallas didn’t want them to be able to pinpoint his position.

Or guess where he was going.

After all, Owen knew these woods, too, since he’d lived in Maverick Springs for more than a dozen years.

“Dallas, this is wrong,” Joelle mumbled.

Yeah, it was, but it would be equally wrong to leave her there without the answers to his questions. Maybe when he had those answers, he could figure out a way to stop her from pressing charges against him.

Dream on.

Once the effects of the drug wore off, she’d be one riled woman.

Even over Joelle’s mumbles, Dallas heard Owen’s shouts and the rushing water of Butcher Creek just ahead. He didn’t go in that direction. Owen would expect it. Instead, Dallas headed west where the woods were thick, and the fallen leaves and lack of sun would make it harder for them to be tracked.

Joelle quit squirming, quit mumbling, and this time Dallas did stop so he could make sure she was still breathing. She was, thank goodness. But she was pale and practically unconscious.

Hell.

He needed to get her to the doctor.

But it wouldn’t be easy. He had to cut through the woods and head to the old cabin that Declan kept when he needed to get away. There was a four-wheeler parked there. It wouldn’t be ideal transportation for an unconscious woman in a bathrobe, but it would have to do. Plus, it would probably turn out to be faster than going back to Owen for help.

Dallas didn’t think Owen would be in a helping mood.

The temperature dropped when they reached the thick part of the woods where there was no sunlight at all. So he wrapped his arms around Joelle’s legs. Maybe that and his body heat would keep her warm.

“Are you taking me to bed?” she mumbled.

Even groggy, she’d asked a question that brought back those blasted bad memories. Or good ones, depending on his mood. Right now, his mood sucked, and he didn’t want to think of the times he had indeed hauled her off to bed.

But he did.

He thought about it.

And cursed himself.

“Dallas?” he heard Owen call out.

Owen yelled something else that Dallas couldn’t make out. Something bad, no doubt. Joelle had been right about her fiancé having a vile temper. When they’d lived at the orphanage, Dallas had not only witnessed it, he’d been on the receiving end of it—often while trying to run interference for the younger boys who would later become his foster brothers.

He thought of his brothers as he ran. Also thought of his father. Kirby wasn’t going to approve of this, but his brothers would stand with him. They would understand, and if they’d had the chance to save Kirby, any one of them would do the exact same thing.

Dallas kept running, the minutes ticking off in his head, still not taking a direct route to the cabin. He meandered through the woods, trying to leave as few signs as possible so that Owen and his henchmen couldn’t easily track them.

He finally spotted the cabin just ahead. Good thing, too, because his legs were about to give out. He checked the shed first and saw the four-wheeler parked inside before he carried Joelle onto the porch. He located the key that Declan kept in a goofy frog planter, and he let himself in.

“Where are we?” Joelle mumbled.

“The place belongs to Declan.”

The cabin wasn’t much, just one room and a bath with sparse furnishings. He eased Joelle onto the sofa sleeper and went in search of a jacket for her and the keys to the four-wheeler.

When Dallas turned around, Joelle was sitting up. Or, rather, she was trying to. She was wobbly, but she finally got herself upright.

She stared at him, dragged her tongue over her bottom lip and added a groan. “You really screwed up this time.”

Dallas grabbed a ratty-looking jacket from a hook on the wall. “Well, I’m not alone. Your fiancé just had you drugged, and you’re scared to death of him.”

She didn’t deny either of those things.

And that meant he had more questions for the nonanswers she’d just given.

Joelle shivered, pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged herself.

Oh, man.

There it was. That punch of sympathy. As long as Joelle was defiant and lying through her teeth, he could hold on to the anger over that blasted report of her inquiry. But seeing her weak and trembling wasn’t good for his resolve of wanting to wring her neck.

Dallas huffed, took the jacket to her and draped it over her shoulders. Even though they needed to get out of there, he sat down beside her. “Why did Owen drug you?”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then, shook her head. “Long story.”

“We have time,” he lied.

Her gaze came to his, and he saw the tears. Yep, tears. He would have had to be a heartless SOB to be immune to those. Dallas cursed, slipped his arm around her, and Joelle went to him as if she belonged there.

She didn’t, he reminded himself. The ring on her finger and the report she’d written were proof of that.

“I need to marry Owen,” Joelle whispered. She moved away from him. “I don’t have a choice. And neither do you.”

Dallas frowned. “What the heck does that mean?”

“It means you have to take me back to the church, and then you have to leave.”

Well, there went that shot of empathy he’d had just seconds earlier. “Have you lost your mind? The man drugged you,” he reminded her in case she’d missed it the first time he’d said it. “There’s no good reason for you to become his wife.”

Her gaze came to his again. “Yes, there is. And don’t ask the reason because you don’t want to know.”

That caused him to shake his head. “You’re wrong about that. In fact, we’re not leaving this place until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t.” She didn’t even hesitate.

Dallas stood and went to look for the key to the four-wheeler. It was a better use of his time than sitting there glaring at her stubborn face and listening to her ramblings that didn’t make sense. But getting up didn’t stop the thought from coming at him.

No pregnancy, so why would a woman marry a man she didn’t love? A jerk who would drug her? There was only one reason that popped into his head.

Because that man had forced her into it.

But why would Owen have done that? Again, he could only think of one reason: Owen wanted something from her.

Joelle wasn’t rich, but she had a job with power and access to the governor. Owen was wealthy, always wheeling and dealing, so perhaps he needed Joelle to cut some corners for him. Maybe along the lines of tax exemptions or reclassification of land that he planned to buy for commercial purposes.

So, yeah, there were reasons why Owen would want Joelle in his bed and under his influence.

But why would Joelle have agreed?

The answer came quickly, too.

Because Owen was blackmailing her or using some other form of coercion.

Dallas rifled through the kitchen cabinets and located the key for the four-wheeler inside the sole coffee cup. They could go now. He could take Joelle to the hospital and face whatever consequences would come from the fallout. On the way there, he could talk her out of submitting a report that would lead to his father’s arrest.

That was a must.

He couldn’t let her go until he was positive that Kirby wouldn’t be hauled off to jail.

“The report,” Dallas repeated under his breath. And he turned back around to face her. “Are you marrying Owen because of that report?”

She dodged his gaze, and he knew he’d hit pay dirt.

Dallas walked closer. “You dug into the old orphanage records when you were researching that report. You no doubt found out that right before Webb disappeared, Kirby was about to launch an investigation into the abuse going on there.”

And there was one other thing she would have done.

“You also dug through the documents connected to Kirby’s filing for guardianship of me and my foster brothers,” Dallas added.

He stooped down again, cupped her chin and forced her to make eye contact. Her pupils were still dilated, but he had no doubt that she had understood every single word he’d said.

“Kirby probably cut some corners when he did that guardianship paperwork,” Dallas admitted. “He did that to save us. Heck, he saved you, too, and got you into a good foster home.” He paused. “Are you marrying Owen because of something you found during your inquiry?”

Joelle didn’t answer. She tried to look away, but Dallas held her chin so she couldn’t move. Still, she squeezed her eyes shut.

Dallas had to press harder. “Are you marrying Owen to save Kirby?”

Joelle opened her eyes, her gaze nailed to his. “No.” A shivery sound left her mouth. “I’m marrying Owen to save you.”


Chapter Four

Joelle heard the words come out of her mouth, but she couldn’t believe she’d actually said them aloud.

To Dallas, no less.

She’d spoken the truth—for one of the first times today—but it was a truth that Dallas shouldn’t have heard. It wouldn’t make things easier. Just the opposite. Because now Dallas would demand an explanation.

Something she couldn’t give him.

Joelle closed her eyes and tried to think. It was next to impossible. Everything inside her was spinning, and she doubted she could stand up, much less try to run.

“What was in that drink?” she asked.

“I think you know,” Dallas answered. “Someone drugged you. Owen, no doubt.”

Yes, and for her there wasn’t a shred of doubt. Owen had done this, or rather he’d gotten Lindsey to do it for him. That infuriated her. Joelle had known she couldn’t trust Lindsey. For Pete’s sake, the woman worked for Owen and was probably in love with him. But she hadn’t thought for one second that Lindsey would resort to something like this.

“How the heck could your marrying Owen save me?” Dallas demanded.

Joelle heard him moving around, and when she opened her eyes again, Dallas was right in front of her face. So close that she could see the flecks of gray in his mostly blue eyes. She could see the determination there, too, and knew a lie wasn’t going to fix this.

The truth wouldn’t, either.

If fact, the truth would make this situation explode like an oil rig fire, and finding a way to dodge that fire was going to be tough.

Dallas stared at her. Cursed. And moved back. “I need to get you to the hospital.”

That would only make things worse because it would get the sheriff involved. Joelle grabbed his wrist, and even though she didn’t have much strength in her wobbly grip, she pulled him back down so that he was kneeling on the floor beside her. Not exactly a brilliant move. They were touching now, and that was never a good idea when it came to Dallas and her.

Even in its drugged state, her body thought it might get lucky. It wouldn’t. And she was reasonably sure Dallas would agree.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital.” She hoped that was true, anyway. “Owen wouldn’t have given me a drug that could kill me. My guess is whatever was in that drink, it was meant to daze me so I wouldn’t be able to hear any argument you have to putting a stop to the wedding.”

Dallas stared at her from beneath the brim of his Stetson. Except it wasn’t just a stare. He seemed to be examining her. Maybe to make sure she wasn’t about to succumb to the drug.

“Clearly, Owen isn’t convinced of your love for him or he wouldn’t have thought I stood a chance of talking you out of saying ‘I do.’”

“Clearly,” she repeated in a mumble. “But you didn’t talk. You took me hostage, and that means the damage control I have to do is...massive,” Joelle settled for saying.

But the real word was impossible.

Still, she’d have to try because there wasn’t an acceptable alternative. As soon as she gathered her wits enough to confront Owen, she’d try to resume their deal or work out a new one. For now though, Dallas was one confrontation too many.

“I need some water,” she said. “And a few minutes to gather my breath. If I’m not feeling better soon, then I’ll go to the hospital.”

Dallas scowled as if he might refuse her on both counts, but it wasn’t a delay tactic. Her throat was parched, and apparently she had some explaining to do. Plus, if she didn’t start feeling better, she would indeed go to a hospital. But not the one in Maverick Springs and she wouldn’t use her real name if she got treatment. She couldn’t have this get back to Owen because he would retaliate in the worst possible way.

Cursing, Dallas went to the sink, got her the water, but as soon as he handed it to her, he went to the window and looked outside. Good move and something Joelle wished she’d thought of doing. Owen would indeed send someone to look for them.

“What are the chances Owen will find this cabin?” she asked, sipping the water.

“Extremely high.” Dallas shot her a glance over his shoulder. “That means you give me that explanation you owe me, and then I get you out of here. First to the hospital and then so you can file charges against Owen for drugging you.”

That got Joelle’s complete attention. Well, as much as her drugged mind would allow. “I can’t file charges against Owen.”

“Then I will.”

And Dallas would do exactly that if Joelle didn’t talk, and talk fast. But where to start? This was a tangled mess, and she wasn’t exactly at her best now when it came to winning an argument with Dallas.

“Remember when you were seventeen and Jonah Webb gave you a beating for sassing him?” she asked.

Dallas eased back around to face her, and his eyes were slightly narrowed. Probably because it wasn’t a good memory to bring up. But that incident, that specific memory, was where the tangle really started to get bad.

“I didn’t sass him,” Dallas growled. “Webb beat up Declan for sassing him, and I told Webb if he laid another hand on Declan that I’d kill him. Webb punched me, and I punched him back until his goons held me down and let Webb have a go at me.”

Yes, he had. And at the time Joelle had supported Dallas one hundred percent. Declan had only been thirteen and scrawny at that. Webb had been a hulk of a man. A brute and a grown-up bully who had no right or reason to assault any of the kids at Rocky Creek.

But Webb had done just that.

And often.

That day, he’d had Dallas beaten within an inch of his life. A strong motive for murder. It didn’t look good, either, that Webb had gone missing that very night.

“Owen witnessed the threat you made to Webb,” Joelle continued. “And he insisted I include it in my report to the governor.”

“Of course he did.” Dallas added more profanity. “Owen’s a snotty-nosed tattletale. But hell’s bells, tell me you aren’t marrying Owen because of that?”

“No.” Joelle needed another sip of water before she could continue. “When I started the report, I requested background checks on all persons of interest. Including Owen. One of his disgruntled business associates tipped off my investigator that Owen might not be the upstanding citizen he claimed to be. I personally did some digging and uncovered a few things, including some shady land and business deals.”

Dallas didn’t give her the surprised look she’d expected. “Yeah. Owen’s dirty,” he agreed. “I’d bet my favorite mare on that. And he’s used the money that he inherited from his late wife and in-laws to do plenty of things I wish I could arrest him for. If you’ve got anything of a federal nature that I can use, I want it.”

“I can’t give it to you.”

That earned her a flat look. “We’re going to the hospital. Obviously, the drug has affected you pretty bad if you’re covering for Owen.”

“I’m not covering for him.”

The flat look got flatter. “If it quacks like a duck, it’s a duck.”

And with that smart-mouthed reply, Dallas came across the room, set her water aside and lifted her to her feet. The dizziness returned with a vengeance, and Joelle had no choice but to lean on him. This time she took in his scent. And the feel of the muscles in his arms and chest.

Heck, she took him in, too, because all the memories came flooding back. Not of the fight with Webb or the miserable times they’d had at Rocky Creek but other times, when she’d been in his arms for a completely different reason.

He made a sound, a sort of grunt, and she hoped that didn’t mean he was remembering things best forgotten.

Like the last night they’d had together at the creek.

No.

Best not to think of that.

“The hospital,” Dallas growled. He yanked out his phone, no doubt to call either the hospital or one of his brothers, but he looked at the screen and grumbled something about not having service. It made sense because the cabin wasn’t exactly on the beaten path.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “After I drop you off at the hospital, I can arrest Owen for trying to intimidate you into withholding evidence. Last time I checked that’s called obstruction of justice.”

“It’s the same as what you want me to do for Kirby by killing that report,” she reminded him.

“Yeah,” he readily admitted.

Dallas didn’t have to say more. He would put himself in the line of legal fire for Kirby—real fire, too—for the man who’d saved him from Rocky Creek. And that’s why Joelle dug in her heels when they made it to the door. She’d fought too hard for Dallas to throw himself under a bus that he didn’t even know was headed his way.

“There’s more,” she said, still leaning against him. Still taking in his scent. But she eased the memories onto the back burner. Way back. Because she couldn’t have that playing into what else she had to tell him.

Dallas didn’t roll his eyes, but he came close. “There’s nothing you can say that’ll stop me from going after Owen.”

“Yes, there is.”

That halted him for just a moment, but then he huffed and opened the door. He glanced around, those lawman’s eyes checking for any sign of Owen or his men. Joelle tried to check, too, but her main focus was getting Dallas through what she was about to tell him.

It would change everything.

“Owen has a knife locked away in a safe-deposit box,” she said. Dallas made a mild sound of interest and scooped her up, taking her toward the shed. “He said he got it from Webb’s office the night he disappeared,” she continued. “That it was lying on the floor and he took it.”

“Good, now I can add petty theft to the charges I’ll file against Owen,” Dallas mumbled. He opened the shed and climbed onto the four-wheeler with her, positioning her in his lap.

“The knife has Webb’s blood on it,” Joelle added. “And fingerprints. Yours.”

That stopped him from starting the engine. Even though everything was still swimming in and out of focus, Joelle tried to catalog every bit of his reaction. He blinked, drew in his breath and then shook his head.

“Owen’s lying,” Dallas concluded.

Joelle had had the same reaction when Owen had first dropped the bombshell on her. “He’s not. Not about this, anyway. I had the knife tested. It’s your prints, all right. Webb’s blood, too. His DNA was in the database because his wife had provided a hair sample to the cops when he went missing.”

With her arm and shoulder against his chest, she could feel his heart thudding. Hers was, too. But she could also see the wheels turning in his head, and Dallas no doubt knew what conclusions she’d reached.

She hadn’t wanted to go there, but the evidence was pretty damning.

“I had a friend run the tests,” she explained. “It’s all under wraps, and it’ll stay secret—”

“Owen somehow faked the prints,” Dallas interrupted. “Maybe the blood, too.”

Joelle shook her head. “My friend was thorough, and the prints were badly smeared, but they have the pressure impressions consistent with the knife being in your hand.” She had to pause again. “And the blood, well, it’s consistent with the blade being plunged into Webb’s body.”

She didn’t have to remind him that there had indeed been knife marks found on Webb’s ribs.

Dallas cursed. “You think I killed Webb.”

Joelle hated that she even had to ask the question. “Did you?” But she didn’t wait for an answer, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it anyway. “Webb was a horrible excuse for a human being. He deserved to die, and if he’d lived, he would have eventually killed you or one of the others.”

Dallas grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her up so they were facing each other. “I did not murder Webb.”

Everything inside her went still, and she stared at Dallas, trying to figure out if that was true.

“I have no reason to lie to you,” he added.

He did indeed have a reason because she would be duty bound to report his confession to the authorities. But she saw nothing in his eyes, his expression or his body language to indicate he’d killed Jonah Webb.

“Oh, God,” she mumbled.

“Yeah. Let me guess—Owen said if you married him that he’d keep the knife hidden away, that I wouldn’t be arrested for murder.”

She managed a nod.

But Dallas only managed a stare. He looked at her as if the moon had just come crashing down on her head. “Why the hell would you have done that for me?” he asked. But as she’d done, he didn’t give her a chance to answer. “You left me sixteen years ago without so much as a word as to where you were going or why I was no longer good enough for you.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she blurted out.

He waited, obviously hoping she’d explain further, but Joelle just shook her head. This was not the time to rehash the past, but she owed him something. “I just wanted you to have a fresh start.”

That didn’t ease the anger in his eyes. “And that couldn’t have happened if you’d stayed?”

“No.” And Joelle had no doubts about that. “You always talked about making something of yourself. About how important that was—”

“I could have made something of myself without you breaking things off.”

“Not true,” she argued. “You would have given me the time and energy you needed to devote to getting your life together. You’d been at Rocky Creek for nearly five years, you were about to turn eighteen and you’d just gotten a scholarship to college. I had another year of high school that I’d spend with a foster family over a hundred miles from where you’d be. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

“Admirable,” he said, his tone stinging with bitterness.

“Not really. It was a fresh start for me, too.” She met his gaze when she said that. “And I did come back, to try to mend fences with you.”

A horrible idea. She’d visited him the summer of her freshman year of college. Why, she didn’t know. Wait. She did know. She had missed him and wanted to say how sorry she was for the way things had turned out. Joelle had planned on using the young and stupid defense.

“It was too late to mend anything. I’d moved on by then,” he grumbled.

“Yes, her name was Sandy if I remember correctly.” And she hated that pang of jealousy even now. Hated that she was reliving things best left in the past. “You started this conversation, but is this really something you want to discuss?” Joelle challenged.

His jaw muscles stirred. His mouth tightened, and Dallas finally shook his head.

Good.

Because Joelle wanted it dropped now. It was hard to defend the decisions she’d made when she was seventeen.

“Even if Owen somehow managed to fake the evidence on that knife,” she said, getting them back to what they should be discussing, “he would use it against you. Against me, too.”

“You?” he snapped.

“Because I concealed the lab report. I didn’t intend to conceal it permanently,” she added quickly. “Just long enough so I could figure out who really did kill Webb.”

“And who did?” Dallas pressed.

She had to shake her head. “I honestly don’t know. But I worked out a deal with Owen,” Joelle explained. “If I marry him, I can’t be forced to testify against him regarding anything I learned during my investigation. And he won’t testify against me for delaying the release of any evidence I found.”

Dallas looked down at her. He didn’t have to voice his displeasure. She could feel it in every solid inch of him. He started cursing again, and he jabbed the keys into the ignition of the four-wheeler and started it.

“You were a fool to trust Owen,” she heard him say even over the roar of the engine.

They barreled out of the shed and onto the trail that she figured would take them back to town. Dallas was obviously still determined to get her to the hospital.

And then arrest Owen.

Then Owen would have Dallas arrested.

That would mean she would be exactly where she’d fought so hard not to be—with Dallas in jail and Owen pretty much calling the shots about the release of the knife and evidence.

“The knife looked familiar,” she said, but she wasn’t sure he heard her. Later, she’d have to make him hear.

She’d also have to put a stop to his plans to arrest Owen.

Somehow.

And maybe she could do that merely by describing the knife, by telling Dallas her suspicions about whose it was. Except it was much more than a suspicion.

Joelle was fairly certain, and if she was right, then all the evidence would only lead to multiple arrests.

“You have to stop this,” she begged Dallas.

He went board stiff, and for a moment Joelle thought she’d gotten through his thick skull. He threaded the four-wheeler into a cluster of trees on the banks of a stream, then stopped and killed the engine. When she opened her mouth to ask why he’d done that, he touched his fingers to his lips in a stay-quiet gesture. He also shoved her behind him on the seat and drew his gun.

Alarmed at both the gestures and the concerned look in his eyes, Joelle followed his gaze back to the cabin.

And that’s when she saw the two men.

They were dressed in dark clothes, and both were carrying rifles. It definitely wasn’t Owen or the armed assistants he’d had with him back at the church, but Joelle had no doubts that they worked for Owen. They’d come looking for Dallas and for her.

One of the men looked directly at them, and she sucked in her breath, waiting for them to demand that Dallas drop his gun so they could take her back to Owen. Instead, the man said something to his comrade.

And then they both trained those rifles on Dallas and her.


Chapter Five

Hell. This was not how Dallas wanted this to go down.

Joelle was still half-dazed, and they were miles from town with no phone service for him to call for backup and help. Now he had to deal with two armed bozos who no doubt worked for the very man Dallas wanted to arrest.

After what Joelle had just told him about Owen blackmailing her, it wasn’t a surprise that her fiancé had wanted to stop her from talking.

Or stop her from backing out of the marriage.

But Dallas was a little surprised that Owen would order his men to aim rifles at a federal marshal, especially when that marshal knew exactly what a dirt wad Owen really was.

In hindsight, he should have already gotten Joelle out of the woods and back to town, but Dallas had been so anxious to hear her explanation as to why she was marrying a weasel that he’d now let that weasel get the drop on them.

Later, he’d kick himself for that Texas-size mistake. But for now, he had a situation to contain.

“Put down your gun,” one of the bozos warned. He was lean and mean-looking like his partner, but they weren’t the men who’d been back at the church. “And drop those keys for the four-wheeler.”

If he’d been alone, Dallas wouldn’t have considered giving up without a fight, but he didn’t want Joelle in the middle of a shootout.

“You do know who I am, right?” Dallas pointed toward his badge just in case their boss hadn’t filled them in on who they were dealing with.

“You’re a rogue marshal,” the man answered. He took a step closer. “And you’re to hand Ms. Tate over to us.”

Dallas couldn’t argue with the rogue part, but he sure as heck could with the rest. “Not a chance. She’s in my protective custody.”

Well, almost.

After everything she’d told him, Joelle certainly needed some kind of protection from Owen. Of course, Dallas had his own issues to work out with Owen and that blasted knife.

“I’ll go with them,” Joelle mumbled. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Too late, trouble’s here,” Dallas told her. “And you’re not going anywhere with them.”

“Remember, Owen can have you arrested,” she tried.

“Not if I arrest him first.” That was the plan, anyway, but Dallas had to accept that he, too, could be taken into custody until all of this got sorted out. Still, it was a small price to pay to make sure Joelle didn’t do something as stupid as marry Owen.

To protect Dallas, no less.

Well, to protect her, too, since Owen had threatened to have her arrested. But that was yet something else that wouldn’t be worked out if he surrendered to these goons and let them haul Joelle back to Owen. He’d just force a hasty “I do” and then whisk her off somewhere so that Dallas couldn’t get to her.

“Put down your gun,” the man repeated.

“Or what?” Dallas answered. “You plan to shoot a lawman, huh?”

The two glanced at each other as if they might consider doing just that. And maybe they would. Obviously, Owen had been willing to go pretty darn far to get what he wanted and hide his criminal activity. Just in case Owen had given these two orders to shoot, Dallas kept his gun aimed at the guy who’d been doing the talking.

There was a snapping sound behind him, and while trying to keep an eye on the men in front of them, Dallas gave a quick glance over his shoulder. He’d hoped the sound had come from Joelle, but no such luck. It was the sound of footsteps, but he didn’t even have time to fully turn toward them before he heard a gun go off.

Dallas cursed, hooked his left arm around Joelle and dragged her off the four-wheeler and to the ground. He came up ready to fire, but judging from the sound and angle of the shot, neither of them had fired it.

It’d come from behind Joelle and him.

And another shot quickly followed.

Dallas scrambled over Joelle, shoving her beneath him to protect her.

“They want me,” she insisted. Obviously still under the stupid assumption that Dallas was going to let her surrender, she tried to get up. He pushed her right back down.

“Stay put,” he warned her.

“But they’re trying to kill us.”

Except they weren’t. Both bullets slammed into the tires of the four-wheeler, making the vehicle impossible to drive. And that was bad news because Dallas had planned on using it to make their escape.

“Drop your gun,” the guy with the rifle repeated, “and no one will get hurt.”

“You sure about that?” Dallas countered. “Because those bullets came darn close to hitting us.”

The man made a sound of disagreement. “If he’d wanted you dead, you already would be.”

And Dallas figured that was the sad truth.

He glanced all around, trying to pinpoint the shooter, but Dallas couldn’t see anyone in the thick woods. Thanks to the spring growth, everything was in full leaf and bushy. Plenty of places for a shooter to hide. At least the shots hadn’t come from the stream that was several yards below the embankment because if Joelle and he had to hoof it out of there, that stream was their best bet.

It was negotiation time.

“We’re all going into Maverick Springs to talk this out,” Dallas said, making sure it didn’t sound like a suggestion but the order of an ornery lawman. Which he was, at this point. “Of course, all three of you, or however many the hell there are of you, are all under arrest. Your boss, too.”

And he waited.

Joelle didn’t say a word. Didn’t move. However, Dallas could hear her breath gusting and feel her heart racing.

“No deal,” one of the bozos in front of him finally answered. “Our orders are to deliver you back to the church. Both of you.”

Now that was an interesting order, especially since someone at the church had probably noticed a ruckus going on and called the local cops. Dallas doubted that Owen could manage to silence everyone. Did Owen really think he could go through with those vows to a drugged bride and stand a snowball’s chance of calling it a legal union?

Maybe.

And the problem was that Owen was pretty much in control at the church. He had those three armed guards. Maybe more. It was the last place Dallas wanted to take Joelle since Owen could somehow neutralize him. Dallas didn’t plan to be neutralized easily, but six gunmen were more than he wanted to face down with Joelle in tow.

“Get ready to move,” Dallas whispered to her.

This would seriously test the gunman’s assurance that no one was going to get hurt, but Dallas figured it was best to get Joelle out of there rather than risk what Owen had planned for her.

Joelle mumbled a “what?” but Dallas didn’t answer her. They had to do this as fast as possible.

Using his body, he gave her a hard nudge, and together they rolled off the embankment and into the stream below. There wasn’t much water—both a blessing and a curse. At least they wouldn’t drown, but if the water had been deep with a strong current, it could have maybe whisked them away.

They landed hard, but Dallas tried to take the brunt of the fall. He didn’t take even a second to breathe. He hooked his arm around Joelle’s waist and got her sloshing through the ankle-deep water. Dallas went in the opposite direction of where he figured the shooter was still hiding.

“Hurry,” he urged Joelle because he knew they didn’t have much time before the gunmen made it to the embankment. Seconds at best.

And he needed to find some sort of cover so they could get some breathing room. He spotted a possible solution just ahead where the banks of the stream weren’t so high. There was a pile of rocks, and the once-high water had shoved dead trees and limbs against them. It was wide enough to stop bullets. The thought had no sooner crossed his mind when he heard something else he didn’t want to hear.

Another shot.

He shoved Joelle ahead of him in case the bullet came their way, but it didn’t seem to land anywhere near them. Dallas didn’t wait around to see if the shooter would get better aim; he latched on to Joelle and shoved her behind the rocks.

“I can talk to them,” she said in between sucking in huge gulps of air.

“No, you can’t.”

But Joelle probably didn’t hear him because more bullets came, and these smacked into the rocks. Man, they were loud, and that deafening noise didn’t do much to steady Joelle’s nerves. She was shaking now and mumbling a prayer.

Good.

They might need a little divine intervention before this was over.

“Marshal, you’re making a mistake,” someone called out when the shots finally stopped. Dallas recognized the voice. It was the same dirtbag who’d issued the other warnings. “Just put down your gun so we can end this.”

Dallas ignored him and made a quick check of his phone. Still no service, which meant they were on their own in getting out of this. He looked around. Spotted their next move. A patch of trees with some dense underbrush. It was just ten yards away and in the direction he wanted to go because there was a main road less than a quarter of a mile away.

“We’re heading there.” Dallas tipped his head to the clump of oaks and hackberries.

Joelle nodded, but it was a wobbly one, and she was still shaking. Even though her eyes were no longer as glazed as they had been, he still wanted to get her to the hospital. Then he could make sure she was okay and have a blood test done to determine exactly what Owen had used to drug her.

Dallas didn’t wait for another hail of bullets. He got Joelle moving toward the trees. No shots, but he did hear at least one of the gunmen cursing.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Marshal,” the man shouted.

Dallas wanted to tell him that he wasn’t the one playing here, but he didn’t want to waste his breath. Plus, the gunmen could use the sound of his voice to pinpoint their exact location in the bushes. Unlike the rocks, the underbrush wouldn’t give them much protection, and it was best not to do anything to get those bullets flying again.

He pointed to the next clump of trees and tipped his head to let Joelle know they were heading there next. Heck, if he had to, they’d just keep running and ducking behind the trees until they were all the way to the road.

“Joelle?” the man called out.

Great. Now the bozo was trying to bargain with a drugged woman. “Ignore him,” Dallas told her.

She did. Joelle moved when he moved, and they darted behind the next set of trees.

“Joelle?” the guy repeated. “I know you can hear me. So can the marshal. And I don’t think you’re going to want him to hear what I’m about to say.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dallas grumbled under his breath, and he got ready for their next round of evade and escape.

“I’m supposed to give you a message, Joelle,” the man continued, his voice practically echoing through the woods. “Come back to the church with us now, or I’m to tell the marshal your dirty little secret.”

Damn, the guy wasn’t giving up.

Dallas immediately dismissed what the man said. But Joelle didn’t. She sucked in her breath hard, and her eyes widened. She shook her head.

And Dallas’s stomach knotted.

Obviously, there was something to the dirty little secret threat. Part of him really wanted to know what had caused the color to drain from Joelle’s already too-pale face. But the other part of him didn’t want the guy to be able to use whatever he was trying to use to get her to cooperate.

“Let’s go,” Dallas insisted.

Joelle didn’t argue. She practically leaped up from the ground, and even though she was still shaky, she ran as if her life depended on it. She didn’t stop at the tree cluster, either. She kept moving and used the trees to help her stay on her feet.

“Running won’t help,” the man yelled. “One way or another, the marshal will find out what you did.”

Joelle looked over at him, the tears shimmering in her eyes. “Don’t ask, please,” she said when Dallas opened his mouth.

Oh, hell.

This couldn’t be good, but it was the worst possible time to push for information.

“The marshal will find out your secret,” the man shouted. It was harder to hear his voice now, but Dallas seemed to have no trouble making out every word. “And if you think he’ll protect you after he finds out what you did, you’re wrong, Joelle. Dead wrong.”


Chapter Six

Everything inside Joelle was swirling, and she couldn’t blame it entirely on the drugged drink. Those three words, dirty little secret, were repeating in her head just like the spray of bullets that the gunmen had fired into the rocks.

Mercy.

How had Owen learned that?

And better yet, how could she keep Dallas from asking her about it?

If he figured out the truth, it certainly wouldn’t help matters. No way. Joelle needed to hurry to town so she could talk to Owen and try to defuse this situation before it blew up in all their faces.

“Keep moving,” Dallas reminded her, and he shoved aside some low hanging tree limbs while he made another check over his shoulder.

Joelle checked, too, but she couldn’t see the gunmen. That was something at least, but she knew that any second the bullets could start flying again.

They ran for what seemed like an eternity, and the woods and underbrush got even thicker. The bushes scraped at her robe and skin, reminders that she wasn’t dressed for a trek through the wild. Of course, she hadn’t planned on spending her day like this since she should have been standing in front of the altar by now.

So much for that plan.

Even over the roaring in her ears, Joelle heard something. Dallas apparently did, too, because he stopped so abruptly that she plowed right into him. He eased back more branches, and she saw the road.

And the truck.

The fear slammed through her again because she thought it could be one of Owen’s men, but Dallas stepped out onto the road and flagged down the driver. When the truck braked to a stop, Joelle saw the familiar face behind the wheel.

Marshal Clayton Caldwell.

She’d not only known him for years since their time together at the Rocky Creek Children’s Facility, he was also Dallas’s foster brother.

“I’ve been out looking for you,” Clayton said, his eyes widening a little when his gaze landed on her. “Didn’t figure on seeing you, Joelle.”

Not exactly a warm greeting, but then she hadn’t expected warmth from any of Kirby’s boys. Still, a frosty welcome was much better than facing the gunmen. But it didn’t mean she was safe.

None of them were.

Dallas practically pushed her into the cab of the truck and moved her over so he could follow on the passenger’s side. He kept watch of the surrounding woods. Kept his gun ready, too.

“There are three armed men probably following us,” Dallas told his brother as Clayton made a quick call to let someone know that he’d found them. As soon as he finished, they sped away. “I need them brought in for questioning.”

“Declan, Slade and Wyatt are all out looking,” Clayton explained. “Can’t contact them because they’re in dead zones, but if the men are still out there, they’ll find them. These guys took shots at you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dallas confirmed. “But I’m not sure they were actually trying to kill us. They kept wanting me to turn Joelle over to them, and while we were running, they probably had a chance or two to mow us down and didn’t.”

Until then, Joelle hadn’t realized that. And maybe it didn’t matter. Even though the gunmen might not have been trying to kill them, Dallas and she could have still been hit by one of those bullets.

“All hell’s breaking loose back in town,” Clayton said. “Owen’s at the marshal’s office claiming you kidnapped Joelle.”

“I did,” Dallas admitted at the same moment that Joelle answered, “He didn’t.”

Dallas looked at her and frowned.

“Someone drugged me,” Joelle explained. “And Dallas removed me from the scene so he could question me and make sure I wasn’t in danger.”

Dallas’s left eyebrow slid up.

“Owen already has enough to burn us,” she mumbled. “I’m not giving him more.”

Besides, she had to work out some kind of truce with Owen, and it wouldn’t help any of them if Owen was hell-bent on arresting Dallas for kidnapping.

Dallas didn’t take his attention off her. “Does this have something to do with the dirty little secret?”

“No,” she snapped, but inside she was repeating, Oh, God. She couldn’t deal with this now.

Clayton glanced at both of them, then at her engagement ring. “So, you’re marrying Owen?” There was a boatload of suspicion and skepticism in his tone. “Never took you two for a love match. Always figured you’d end up with Dallas if he could ever forgive you for walking out on him.”

“I don’t forgive,” Dallas grumbled. “And it’s not a love match. Joelle’s marrying the moron because he claims to have a knife with my prints and Webb’s blood.”

Joelle hadn’t expected for Dallas just to blurt it out like that, but then she remembered this wasn’t just his foster brother but a fellow marshal. He trusted Clayton. Heck, so did she.

To a point.

But neither of them was going to be able to defuse this Owen bomb. She could.

Well, maybe.

“She’s marrying Owen to keep you from being arrested,” Clayton concluded under his breath. “How’d your prints get on the knife?”

At least he hadn’t asked if Dallas was guilty of murder. Maybe he didn’t want to know. Or maybe he knew unequivocally that his foster brother was innocent.

Joelle certainly hadn’t given Dallas the benefit of the doubt. And look where that had gotten her.

Dallas shook his head. “I’m sure I handled a knife or two during my time at Rocky Creek.”

“Yeah, we all did,” Clayton admitted. “I remember for a while there you kept one under your pillow when Webb was gunning so hard for Declan.”

That brought the old memories flooding back. Joelle hadn’t known about the knife, but she did know that Dallas and the others were often put in positions where they had to protect Declan. What Joelle had never understood was why Webb had had it in for Declan. And why Declan had never seemed to be able to back down even when Webb was basically assaulting him.

“You got a look at the knife?” Clayton asked, and it took a moment to realize he was talking to her.

Joelle nodded, but when she didn’t say more, Dallas huffed. “If you know whose knife it is, now’s the time to tell me.”





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