The Marshal's Hostage (16 page)

He moved.

Joelle did, too.

The pace and rhythm was fast and hard and only got faster and harder. With one hand he grabbed her bottom so he could control this war they’d waged on each other. With his other hand, he caught her hair and bent her head so that he could go after her neck.

Yeah, it was playing dirty.

But she was so caught up in the pleasure of it that she slowed down just enough for Dallas to take her the way he wanted to take her. A few strokes of slow and easy that had her making that little purring whimper that had haunted him for all these years.

Joelle purred, all right. And with another of those siren moves, she lifted herself to him one last time.

Before she shattered.

“Dallas,” she said, her voice strained.

That was enough for him. All he needed. He gathered her close and let Joelle finish what she’d started.

Chapter Sixteen

Joelle felt the unfamiliar warmth next to her body, and
her eyes flew open. She would have scrambled right off the bed if someone hadn’t
grabbed her and pulled her back.

Dallas was that warmth.

And the memories of what had caused it came flooding back. She
was at the ranch. In his bed. And she’d brazenly thrown herself at him.

Thank goodness he hadn’t refused her.

Well, she hoped it was thank goodness. There would probably be
consequences, but Joelle pushed those aside, turned and looked up at the man who
had her wrapped in his arms.

“It’s around five,” he grumbled, though she had no idea how he
knew that since he didn’t even open his eyes to check the time.

She glanced at the clock. Yep, he was right. Barely five in the
morning. The sun wasn’t even up yet. And although they had a ton of stuff to do
and discuss, she settled back against him and let herself enjoy the moment.

“I’ve never woken up next to you before,” she whispered. Joelle
glanced down at their positions on the bed. “You hog the covers.”

He chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest, and he pulled
her even closer against him. More warmth. More memories, too. The memories got a
little fresher when he nuzzled the back of her neck.

She made a shameless sound of pleasure. “You’ve gotten better
at this over the years. All that practice you did on me must have helped.”

“You weren’t practice, Joelle.” His voice was still a sleepy
mumble so it took her a moment to realize what he’d said.

And what he didn’t say.

“Then what was I?” she asked.

“Trouble.” Dallas rolled her over and kissed her. “You still
are.”

It seemed like a light answer for something she knew they’d
soon have to discuss. Or rather clarify. After all, never once had he told her
how he felt about her. But she looked at his face and sort of lost that train of
thought.

Oh, mercy.

How could anyone look that good at this time of day? Maybe it
was the semidarkness, but Joelle didn’t think so.

Dallas hadn’t been practice for her, that’s for sure.

He’d been her benchmark, and no man since had quite measured
up. Maybe no one ever would. Not exactly a comforting thought for a woman who
wanted marriage and kids.

She ran her hand between them. “You didn’t have all this chest
hair when you were seventeen.” She liked it. A lot. Joelle tugged at some of the
strands until he winced and opened one eye to peek out.

“Put your hand lower and do that, and I might wake up.”

Now she chuckled, and her hand was already heading in that
direction when a buzzing sound cut through the room. Both of them cursed, and
Dallas leaned over her to pick up his cell, which was on the nightstand.

“It’s Lindsey,” he relayed, adding the exact profanity that
Joelle was thinking. Dallas hesitated, as if he might not answer it at all, but
then his attention went back to the clock.

Judging from the hour, this probably wasn’t a casual call.
Still leaning over her, Dallas hit the answer button, and without actually
picking up the phone, he put the call on speaker. “What the hell is wrong now?”
he greeted.

Joelle hoped that a miracle would happen and that Lindsey would
say she had good news. That their names had been miraculously cleared. But
Lindsey didn’t answer at all. Not with words, anyway. The woman was sobbing.

Dallas rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why the tears?”

Lindsey said something, but Joelle couldn’t make out what. The
woman’s sobs got worse.

“Lindsey?” Joelle tried. “You have to tell us what’s
wrong.”

“It’s Owen.” Joelle heard that part loud and clear, but it took
several more moments of loud crying for Lindsey to continue. “I went to his
place, and he was packing. He was planning to run out on all of us. On me.”

Dallas grumbled more profanity, got off the bed and started to
dress. Joelle did the same, though the only thing she had in the room was her
nightshirt. Still, she’d have to dress because it was apparent that Owen was
about to skip bail.

“Did you call the sheriff or the marshals’ office?” Dallas
asked.

“No,” Lindsey answered. “I shot him.”

Dallas had been about to step into his jeans, but he froze. So
did Joelle. “Who did you shoot?” he demanded.

“Owen.” The sobs turned to hysterics now. “I shot him, and he
might be dying.”

Joelle looked at Dallas to see if he believed what Lindsey was
saying. He apparently did. So did Joelle. It was possible that Lindsey was
faking all the crying, but it seemed genuine. Plus she suspected that Lindsey
wasn’t exactly emotionally stable right now.

“Where are you?” Dallas asked. He continued to dress while he
waited for Lindsey to answer.

“Owen’s house in town. I didn’t know what to do. Who to
call.”

“An ambulance would have been a good start,” Dallas answered.
“Hang up right now and call 911. Tell them exactly what you just told me.”

“I will.” She paused again, and Joelle could hear someone
mumbling in the background. “You should come out here. Owen says he has some
things to tell Joelle and you.”

“What things?” Dallas demanded.

“Something about Jonah Webb’s murder.”

And with that, Lindsey ended the call. Hopefully so she would
phone an ambulance. However, Dallas didn’t trust her to do that because he
motioned for Joelle to get dressed, and he made the call himself and then asked
the dispatcher to give him an update on Owen’s condition as soon as
possible.

Joelle hurried, and she tried to focus just on getting dressed,
but the thoughts racing through her head slowed her down. She had to consider
that this was some sort of ruse by Lindsey. But what if it wasn’t?

What if Owen really was dying?

After everything he’d done and tried to do to Dallas and to
her, Joelle despised the man, but she truly hoped that Lindsey hadn’t murdered
him.

She was still dressing when Dallas appeared in the doorway. “I
told Kirby’s nurse what’s going on. Harlan is walking over here now to stay with
them while I’m gone. I’d like for you to stay here, too.”

Harlan was Dallas’s foster brother and a fellow marshal. A man
she trusted as she did all his brothers. From what she’d learned in her
background checks, he lived in a house on the grounds of the ranch, which meant
it shouldn’t take him long to arrive.

Joelle shook her head. “I want to go with you. I want to find
out what’s going on.”

He gave her a flat look, then lifted his cell. “That’s what
phones are for.”

Since he looked ready to leave without hearing her argument,
Joelle caught his arm. “If Owen’s alive, I’d like to hear what he has to say. By
the time we get into town, he’ll be at the hospital anyway.”

“But I’ll want to question Lindsey,” he argued. “And I don’t
want you anywhere near her, especially if she tried to murder Owen.”

“Fine.” Joelle wasn’t exactly thrilled to be near Lindsey,
either. “Talk to her. You can do that after we see Owen and after the sheriff
has taken her into custody.”

She braced herself to continue the argument, but Dallas glanced
at the time on his phone. The seconds were ticking away fast.

And Owen could be dying while they debated this.

Joelle wasn’t sure the man had any revelations about Webb’s
killer, but at this point, he was their best shot at learning the truth. Because
she was almost positive that Owen had either murdered Webb himself or else he
knew the identity of the killer.

She heard another buzzing sound. Not Dallas’s phone but rather
the security system. Joelle hurriedly put on her shoes, the blasted heels that
she intended to burn first chance she got, and raced after Dallas. By the time
she made it to the front door, he had disarmed the security system and was
letting Harlan inside.

Harlan shucked off his raincoat and Stetson, and his gaze
lingered a moment on his brother before it came to her. Though he didn’t smile,
she thought he might be pleased to see her. It was always hard to tell with
Harlan. He had a quiet intensity about him that could be a little unnerving.

“You’re back?” Harlan asked her. Joelle followed his gaze down
to her neck and wondered if there was a love bite there. Probably. Dallas knew
it was her hot spot and the kisses had gotten pretty intense when they’d had
sex. So, the
“you’re back”
comment took on a whole
new meaning, and Harlan likely wanted to know if she and Dallas were back
together.

They weren’t.

But Joelle didn’t have time to get into that now.

“If you can, get me any updates on Owen and the evidence the
CSIs pulled out of Rocky Creek,” Dallas instructed Harlan. “And rearm the
security system when we leave.” He opened the door and did a lawman’s
surveillance of the front of the house.

“You expecting trouble?” Harlan asked him.

“I think it’s already here.”

That sent Harlan’s gaze back to her again. Specifically, back
to her neck. Joelle didn’t address it but instead followed Dallas to his truck,
which was parked at the edge of the porch steps. Good thing, too, because it was
still raining. No lightning or thunder, thank God, but it was a slow, steady
downpour.

Dallas didn’t waste a moment getting her inside before he drove
away, still keeping watch of the area. She looked, too, but when they were away
from the house, she pulled down the visor and checked herself in the vanity
mirror.

And there it was.

Definitely a love bite. Maybe two.

“Sorry,” Dallas said, obviously noticing them, too.

She was about to say there was no need for an apology, that
she’d gotten a lot of pleasure from those bites, and everything else he’d done
to her in bed, but she didn’t have time to answer.

“We’ll talk later,” he said. And he didn’t sound very happy
about that. Didn’t look happy, either.

Of course he wasn’t.

He was still trying to come to terms with the child they’d
lost. With the secret she’d kept. One night of great sex wasn’t going to undo
all of that, but Joelle hoped it was a start.

However, she rethought that.

Maybe a start wasn’t even possible. The sex had always been
good between them. Still was. But sex alone wasn’t going to heal their
wounds.

That sent a jolt of pain through her heart. Mercy. Hadn’t she
learned to shield her heart any better than this?

Apparently not.

Because here she was falling hard all over again for
Dallas.

His phone buzzed, and while the truck slogged down the gravel
and dirt road, Dallas took the call on speaker.

“It’s me, Clayton,” he said. “The CSIs got that safe open.”

Joelle certainly hadn’t forgotten about the floor safe that the
CSIs had found, but with everything else going on, she’d put it on the mental
back burner.

“There was some cash in it,” Clayton explained. “About five
grand and a passport.”

Joelle thought about that for a moment. “You think Webb was
planning on leaving the country or something?”

“Maybe. There were also some account books that’ll probably
prove he was skimming money from the state.”

Definitely not a surprise, but maybe the contents of the safe
was just his getaway kit. Something he could grab in a hurry if he came under
scrutiny.

Which was about to happen.

Because Kirby had been on the verge of launching a full-scale
investigation. Of course, if they were to believe Sarah, Webb hadn’t been
concerned about that investigation because he’d already gotten approval to keep
Rocky Creek open.

“One more thing,” Clayton said. “Owen still hasn’t produced the
so-called real knife that he claims he received.”

And with Owen hurt, maybe dead, it might take the marshals a
while to find the knife or anything else Owen had hidden away. Not good. Because
maybe if all the pieces of this case came to light, it would be better than
keeping things hidden away.

While Joelle mulled that over, she felt a jolt of a different
kind. A real one. Dallas must have hit a massive pothole or something, and the
truck lurched forward so quickly that Joelle’s head hit the ceiling.

“What the hell now?” Dallas growled.

He brought his truck to a jarring stop and threw open the door
so he could look out. He immediately snapped back toward her, grabbed onto her
and shoved her down on the seat.

Joelle didn’t even have time to ask what was wrong before
Dallas drew his gun.

* * *

D
ALLAS
DIDN
’
T
SEE
ANYONE
OUT
there, but someone had to be. Someone with bad intentions, and
he had the flat tires to prove it.

“What’s happening?” Joelle asked.

Dallas pushed her lower onto the seat, covering her as best he
could with his body, and he tried to pick through the darkness and the rain to
see if he could spot anyone.

He didn’t.

“Someone put a spike strip across the road,” he explained. “The
kind that cops use to flatten the tires of someone trying to escape.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

Yeah. That was basically his reaction, too.

Dallas wanted to hope for the best and believe this was some
kind of prank, but his luck wasn’t that good. Plus, coupled with Lindsey’s call
that had ultimately gotten them out of the house, he figured things could get
ugly fast.

But had Lindsey orchestrated this? Whatever
this
was? He wouldn’t put anything past the woman, not
with her insane jealousy when it came to Owen. Of course, there were other
immediate suspects who came to mind.

Rudy and Sarah.

Owen, too.

Because now that Dallas had time to think about it, Owen might
not be shot. He might have been the one who put Lindsey up to doing this.