The Marshal's Hostage (2 page)

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
.”