The Marshal's Hostage

by Delores Fossen

  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. An
d 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 t
hings 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.