The Marshal's Hostage

Chapter Fifteen



Dallas hadn’t figured this night could get any longer or more frustrating, but he was obviously wrong. The latest phone call had proven that, and he hung up wondering if he was ever going to catch a break on this investigation.

Joelle’s huff let him know she felt the same way.

“I can tell from your expression that it’s bad news,” she mumbled.

Well, it wasn’t the news he’d wanted. Before Dallas explained, he opened the door to the ranch house and motioned for her to keep her voice down. It was late, nearly midnight, and he didn’t want to wake up Kirby.

And Kirby was another subject he needed to tackle.

Take a number.

Dallas wasn’t pleased with his foster father withholding the pregnancy news, but a heart-to-heart with Kirby would have to wait. There were actually more pressing things.

Like Lindsey.

Dallas tugged off his Stetson and hooked it on the peg. He also set the security system. “The sheriff tested Lindsey for gunshot residue,” he told a waiting Joelle. “And they didn’t find a gun on her or anywhere else in the woods.”

Joelle’s mouth dropped open for a moment. “But she was there, and someone shot Rudy.”

Both of those things were one hundred percent true. Rudy had indeed been shot. Well, sort of. A bullet had grazed his arm, but it wasn’t serious. He’d only needed a few stitches. However, none of the evidence was pointing to Lindsey as the woman who’d shot him.

If anyone had.

“Clayton said Rudy’s wound was superficial,” Dallas added in a whisper.

She stared at him a moment, processing that, and then groaned. “Are you saying Rudy could have shot himself?” But she waved him off before he could confirm that. “He could have done it to throw suspicion off himself, so that we wouldn’t believe he killed Webb.”

Bingo.

And the problem was, it was working. Yes, Rudy had been arrested for the standoff at the building, but he hadn’t fired at any police officers and hadn’t damaged any property that anyone could find. Coupled with the fact that he had no police record of any kind, and Dallas figured Rudy would be out of jail by morning.

Maybe earlier.

“The sheriff gave Rudy a Breathalyzer, and he was way over the legal limit,” Dallas continued. “I’m sure his lawyer will say that was the reason for his erratic behavior.”

Another soft groan, and she leaned her back against the door. “And what’s Lindsey’s lawyer saying?”

“She hasn’t asked for one, and the truth is, she might not need to. Unless they find a gun in those woods with her prints, the most the sheriff can charge her with is trespassing.”

And it was doubtful he’d even charge her with that since there weren’t any no-trespassing signs posted in that area of the woods.

She closed her eyes a moment, opened them and met his gaze. “Well, at least all the evidence is still intact.”

Yeah, but they both knew that evidence might produce nothing that they didn’t already have. It was Webb’s blood on the window frame and possibly the stairs, and the CSIs might even be able to guess at the height of the killer. But that wouldn’t give them a name.

But whatever was in that safe might.

“I did convince the sheriff to remove all the documents from Webb’s office,” Dallas explained to her. “The safe and its contents, too. They’ll be moved to the marshals’ office for now, but I didn’t want anyone destroying something that could catch a killer.”

She made a weary sound of agreement. “I’m betting Sarah and Rudy won’t like you taking those things.”

That was a correct bet. According to the sheriff, both had pitched hissy fits. They were too damn territorial for Dallas’s liking, especially since their insane need to preserve Rocky Creek could also be preserving the identity of the killer.

“I need a drink.” In fact, he needed several of them, but Dallas would settle for one and then crash because he figured tomorrow wouldn’t be any easier than today. “And I need to toss this.” It was the rest of their fast food dinner that they’d grabbed on the drive back to the ranch.

Joelle pushed herself away from the door and followed him into the kitchen where he dropped the bag in the trash. Judging from the exhaustion on her face, he’d expected her to say good-night and head for the guest room, but instead she motioned for him to hand her a beer when he took one from the fridge.

She twisted off the top, had a sip and made a face. Maybe beer wasn’t her usual drink, but she still had another sip of it. “Look, I know this isn’t something you want to hear, but I’m going to say it anyway.”

Hell. Dallas knew where this conversation was going, and he wanted no part of it. “Not now,” he warned. But he might as well have been talking to the air.

“I did what I thought was right at the time,” Joelle continued. And she didn’t just continue. When he started to walk out, she grabbed his arm. “You can be mad at me all you want, but you’re going to hear me say I’m sorry for keeping the pregnancy a secret.”

Dallas could have easily thrown off her hand and put off this conversation for another decade or so, but he didn’t. Maybe it was the fatigue, the beer or the pain in Joelle’s eyes, but he nodded.

“Apology accepted,” he said.

She blinked. “You mean that?”

“Yeah.”

She got closer, studying his eyes. Then, she frowned. “You’re just saying that to get me off your back.”

“That’s part of it,” he readily admitted. “The other part is I do forgive you. I do understand.”

She still looked skeptical.

“Now, I need to know just one thing. How did you get past this?” He tapped his chest, his heart. “Because even though I didn’t know my baby existed before today, it’s killing me to know we lost her.”

“Yes.” And the tears instantly sprang to her eyes.

Dallas hadn’t wanted to make Joelle cry again, but the pain and tears were all part of this.

Joelle shook her head, then swiped at the tears. “Time helps. Some,” she amended. More tears came. And she tapped the locket she wore around her neck. “It helps that I have her picture with me everywhere I go. I can make you a copy. And give you copies of some other photos that my foster mother took during those few hours that Amber was alive.”

Dallas managed a nod. “I’d like that.”

They stood there staring at each other, and when Joelle’s tears didn’t stop, Dallas took her beer and put it aside. Put his on the counter, too, and he hooked his arm around her waist to lead her toward the guest room. She didn’t put up a fight.

“You need to sleep,” he insisted.

She didn’t put up a fight about that, either. In fact, it was pretty clear that Joelle wasn’t going to protest anything he did tonight.

And that made this a very dangerous situation.

The attraction was always there between them. Maybe even stronger than it’d been when they were teenagers. It would be so easy to start with a kiss that would land them both in the bed for some hot, satisfying sex.

But she wasn’t in any shape for that.

They were both dealing with the hurt from the loss of their baby. Both were battling the adrenaline crash from the hellish day. Plenty of good reasons for him to back away, but Dallas still had a hard time doing it.

The next sound he heard sure didn’t help.

It was the low rumble of thunder outside. He hadn’t had time to check the weather, but from the sound of it, there was a storm moving in. Joelle wasn’t a fan of bad weather. In fact, years ago it’d been something close to a phobia.

She froze in the doorway of the guest room, her attention zooming right to the window where the rain was already tapping against the glass. He felt her muscles go stiff, and her breathing became a little uneven.

“I can sleep outside your room,” he offered. Not exactly the offer he would have made when they were at Rocky Creek. In those days, he’d risked Webb’s wrath by sneaking into her room and holding her until she fell asleep.

No fear of Webb’s wrath tonight, but holding her—like kissing—would lead to sex.

He cursed.

Hell, anything at this point might lead to it.

She looked up at him. Her eyes were wide. “It’ll be okay.”

That was a lie, but to call her on it meant he’d have to make that hold-her offer that would get them on the bed together. He would do it. If she pressed it.

Dallas waited for her to press it.

And he cursed himself again because part of him wanted her to press.

Joelle was breathing through her mouth now, and her warm breath was hitting his neck. Almost like a kiss.

Like before, she studied his eyes. Maybe trying to figure out what to do. But he studied her eyes, too, and he saw the heat there. One touch. Just a brush of his body against hers, and both of them would be goners.

“Yes,” she whispered because she no doubt knew exactly what he was thinking. She also knew why he hadn’t already latched on to her and started what would be stupid to start.

Just when Dallas was sure his willpower had turned to dust, she shook her head and stepped away. “It’ll be okay,” Joelle repeated.

She grimaced at the next rumble of thunder, but while grimacing, she stepped away from him. “Good night, Dallas,” she whispered. “Get some sleep.”

There was zero chance of that. He was aroused beyond belief, and that aroused part of him was begging him to go to her.

He didn’t.

Dallas used every bit of willpower and forced himself to step back and shut the door between them. The last thing he saw was the disappointment, and the heat, flash through Joelle’s eyes.

Cursing himself, cursing her, and cursing anything and everything he could think of, he went to his room, stripped down to his boxers and got ready for bed.

Alone.

Unlike it was for Joelle, the rain soothed him, and he might have been able to fall asleep if it weren’t for the blasted thoughts that just wouldn’t leave him alone. He tossed, turned and groaned when a bolt of lightning jagged through the sky and flashed through his room. The thunder followed, more than a few rumblings this time, and the rain came down harder.

No way was Joelle sleeping through this.

That only caused the ache to return, but he reminded himself that she was a grown woman, not the teenager who’d been terrified of storms. It didn’t help with the thoughts or the ache, but thankfully the next jolt of lightning was farther away. Ditto for the thunder.

Dallas watched the minutes tick off on the clock next to his bed. And soon, there was no more lightning. No more thunder. Just the gentle rain that was barely making a sound.

Now Joelle would sleep.

And he hoped the same for him.

He forced his eyes shut but had to reopen them immediately when he heard a sound. Footsteps. Since he knew from the phone calls he’d made that none of his brothers was home, he thought maybe it was Kirby’s nurse.

Or worse, Kirby.

He threw back the covers just as someone threw open his door.

Definitely not Kirby.

Joelle.

Since there were night-lights on in the hall, he had no trouble spotting her. She was wearing a barely there red nightshirt that didn’t cover much.

“Don’t say a word,” she ordered in a whisper.

She didn’t have to worry about him speaking. His mouth had gone bone dry, and that got much worse when she closed the door, locked it and pulled off the nightshirt over her head. She dropped it on the floor.

Instantly she was naked, and he got an instant erection.

“And please don’t think about turning me down,” Joelle added.

Dallas had plenty of thoughts, but that wasn’t one of them. And even if he had, turning her down would have pretty much been impossible when she slid like a siren into his bed. He didn’t even let her head hit the pillow. He hauled her closer and put his mouth to hers.

And she kissed him right back.

It didn’t start off gentle, and Dallas figured he stood zero chance of trying to slow things down. Maybe because they’d been all these years without each other. That caused an uneasy feeling inside him. A fleeting one because Joelle moved her body against him, lining up her sex with his, and the feeling of raw need overtook any uneasiness.

She didn’t just stop there, either. She started with touching. Her hand on his chest, and then it made her way to his stomach.

And, no doubt, she would then head lower.

Just the thought of it had him seeing stars and had his erection urging him to take her at breakneck speed. Breakneck was fine sometimes, but he wanted this to last a little longer than Joelle apparently had in mind.

That’s when Dallas made some adjustments of his own. He shifted, dragging her beneath him and pinned her hands to the bed. He kissed her. First her mouth. And then her neck. Because he knew every inch of her body, he also knew what would make her burn. A long, slow kiss at the base of her throat.

So that’s what he gave her.

Joelle made a sharp moan but then clamped her teeth over her bottom lip to muffle the sound. But she darn sure didn’t muffle her movements. She lifted her hips, the heels of her feet sinking into the mattress, and all that hot, wet heat between her legs brushed against him.

Oh, yeah. He saw stars, all right.

And Joelle started with the touching and kissing again. Dallas held her back. Well, as much as he could, and he kissed her neck. Her breasts and her stomach. He would have done more sampling, but she caught his hair and yanked him back up.

“We’ll do that later,” she promised.

Hell. The woman knew how to make him crazy and keep him that way.

Since it was obvious that he couldn’t keep the pace slow, Dallas fumbled in the nightstand drawer, located a condom and put it on. Joelle helped, and either she was very bad at putting on a condom or else she wanted to torture him. By the time she finally got the darn thing in place, he was well past being ready.

She thrust her hips forward just as he entered her, and Dallas had to muffle his own sharp groan. This one was from pure pleasure. The sensation of being inside her shot through him. Like lightning. And probably just as hot because he lost his breath and didn’t care if he ever got it back.

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.