The Marshal's Hostage

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.

* * *

DALLAS 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.

He reached in his pocket, grabbed his cell and handed it to Joelle. “Call Harlan and let him know someone just disabled my tires. Tell him what’s going on but that I don’t want him to come outside.” Because this might be some kind of an attempt to get to Kirby. “Have him phone Clayton or Declan so they can drive out here.”

It would take a while for either of them to arrive since they were both at the marshals’ office in town. Calling Slade and Wyatt wouldn’t speed things along, either, since both were out of the county on assignments.

Joelle made the call, and even though her voice was shaky, she gave Harlan the information.

“What now?” she asked, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

“We wait.”

It wasn’t the best of plans, sitting out on a ranch road in the dark. There were trees and fences. A lot of places for an attacker to hide. Still, the alternative was trying to get back to the house with his tires disabled. He could maybe do it, creeping along at a speed where anyone could catch them. But he didn’t want to risk leading someone dangerous back to the house where Kirby was.

Of course, he might not have a choice.

He didn’t want to put Joelle at further risk, either.

Because he was practically wrapped around Joelle, he could feel her tense muscles and knew she was scared. Over the past couple of days, she’d been put in too many positions like this, and he wanted to put an end to threats. Unfortunately, the only way to do that was to catch the person responsible.

Maybe the person who’d put down that strip to shred his tires.

The thought had no sooner crossed his mind when the movement caught his eye. At first he thought it was the motion of the wipers slashing across the windshield, but he had a closer look. Not the wipers.

There appeared to be someone ducked down behind the fence.

Even though the truck headlights were still on, they weren’t aimed in the right direction for him to confirm his theory, and he definitely wasn’t getting out and leaving Joelle alone. If Lindsey was behind this, it was exactly what she would want him to do so she’d stand a better chance of getting her hands on Joelle.

His phone buzzed, and Joelle took it out for him. “It’s Harlan,” she relayed in a whisper.

“Put it on speaker,” Dallas instructed. He wanted to keep his hands free in case someone out there had bad intentions.

“Don’t go to Owen’s,” Harlan immediately said. “I just got a call from the deputy who responded, and neither Lindsey nor Owen is there.”

Hell. Dallas was hoping they were not only there but that both had been either arrested or contained in some sort of way.

“You need help where you are?” Harlan asked.

“No.” Not yet, anyway. “Stay put. I don’t want Kirby left alone. How long before the others get out here?”

“Twenty minutes maybe. The bottom part of Durham Road is flooded so they’ll have to drive around.”

Another complication he didn’t need, but Dallas had no choice but to end the call and wait. If there was someone armed out there, he wanted backup.

“Maybe it’s my imagination,” Joelle whispered, “but I think I smell smoke.”

Dallas lifted his head, sniffed. Yeah, there was a the faint smell of smoke, but he thought it might be lingering from what had happened the day before at Rocky Creek.

He looked out but didn’t see any signs of fire or smoke, and even if there had been, the rain would have likely doused it. But the smell got stronger, and Dallas finally saw something he didn’t want to see.

The wisps drifting up from beneath his truck.

“It’s smoke,” he confirmed.

Joelle automatically lifted her head to have a look, but he pushed her right back down. Dallas mumbled some profanity and inched closer to the side mirror so he could try to see what was going on. Still no flames, but he was getting a bad sense of déjà vu. Maybe the person who’d orchestrated that smoke at Rocky Creek had managed to do the same beneath his truck. Of course, it could be a real fire, too.

Either way, he had to move Joelle.

He couldn’t wait twenty minutes for backup because they might be dead by then.

Since that shadow was on his side of the truck, Dallas figured they needed to go out Joelle’s side. He reached across her and slightly cracked the door.

“I’ll go first,” he instructed, “and the second your feet hit the ground, I want us away from the truck.”

She gave a shaky nod, and even though he could feel her fear, there was nothing he could do to lessen it right now. “Run where?” she asked.

There were several trees. Not good cover. But maybe they wouldn’t need it. “Just stay next to me,” Dallas said.

He crawled over her and used his shoulder to fully open the door. In the same motion, he caught her by the arm and helped her scramble from the truck. Dallas had already told her to hit the ground running, but they’d barely made it a step when a shot blasted through the air.

Joelle made a gasping sound, and both Dallas and she dived to the ground. It was like landing in a massive mud puddle, and he had to roll to the side and keep his gun lifted so that it wouldn’t get wet.

“I’m Marshal Walker,” he called out just in case this was a stray hunter.

But no such luck.

Another shot came right away, cracking through the rain, and this one slammed into the truck. Not the driver’s side where he’d last seen that shadowy figure. No, this bullet tore into the back.

Dallas made a quick adjustment, slinging Joelle behind him so that he’d be between the shooter and her. It wasn’t enough because from the sound of the shots, their attacker was using a rifle. A high-powered bullet could easily go through him and into Joelle.

Still, it was too risky to move.

Or maybe not.

The next shots weren’t single rounds but three bullets that came back to back, and each of them smacked into the ground between the truck and them.

The shooter was moving. Getting closer. And that meant Dallas had to do something. He tried to pinpoint where he thought their attacker was, then he levered himself up and fired. He wasn’t sure where his shot went, but it hadn’t hit a person.

Joelle was shaking now. Probably a combination of the fear and the fact she was lying in cold, muddy water. Dallas was cold, too, but he tried to keep his hands steady, and he also tried to listen for the sound of any footsteps or movement.

He finally saw something.

The shadowy figure was back. Someone wearing dark clothes and moving from the side pasture and ducking into the trees that lined that part of the fence.

Another shot came at them.

But this time Dallas saw the person lift the rifle. Not an ordinary lift, either. Their attacker didn’t even aim. He blindly shot toward them and kept moving. And he wasn’t moving in a direction that Dallas wanted him to go.

The shooter was headed straight for the house.