The Marshal's Hostage

Chapter Eight



It was too late for Joelle to try and duck around Dallas. He backed her against the wall and pinned her in place with his body. Despite all the things going through her head, she still noticed the close contact.

His chest pressed against her breasts.

Dallas obviously noticed it, too, because he glanced down between them and then stepped back a little. “That won’t get you off the hook,” he mumbled.

“That?” she blurted out. Yet another bad idea. She should have just dropped the subject completely.

“You know what I’m talking about.” He didn’t wait for her to confirm that yep, she did know. It was this blasted attraction between them. “It won’t play into this. You’ll tell me all about this secret you’ve been keeping.”

She would. No way around it now. Joelle debated where to start, but before she could figure out a jumping off point, she heard the footsteps, and Declan appeared in the hall.

“The guest room’s ready,” he said, and his gaze slid to the still close contact between Dallas and her. “Looks like old times.” Declan didn’t exactly seemed pleased about that, either.

Dallas cursed. “Mind your own business. And if you remember correctly, those old times weren’t always good.” But he stepped away from her again. “Come on. We’ll have this discussion in private.”

He was right. Kirby had been stressed out enough without having to listen to them argue. And there would be an argument if she didn’t tell all. The trick was to do that without making things worse.

Latching on to her arm again, Dallas scowled at her and then led her down the hall and into what she assumed was the guest room. Her bag sat near the bed.

“Talk,” Dallas ordered.

Joelle gathered her breath first. It wasn’t easy, and even when she managed to do it, it didn’t help. “One of the first things I discovered when I started this inquiry was that neither you, Kirby nor any of your foster brothers have foolproof alibis for the time Webb went missing.”

“Not exactly a secret,” Dallas pointed out.

“No. But my boss was pressing me to name some top suspects, preferably not any state officials or employees with ties to Rocky Creek.”

Dallas stayed quiet a moment. Cursed again. “He wants to pin this on a federal marshal.”

“Only if a marshal is guilty,” she corrected. “This isn’t a witch hunt, Dallas. The governor wants everything aboveboard, but he wants it handled discreetly, too. And that’s why I didn’t interview you or your brothers personally. I didn’t want anyone to think that I’d manipulated or influenced your accounts of that night.”

“So you sent a lackey to talk to us.”

“My assistant,” she corrected. “And I used the info from those interviews and others to come up with a timetable of who was where and when for all sixty-one residents and the staff.”

He stared at her. “You found something.” And it wasn’t a question.

“I found that the time window was short for you to have committed a murder, but it was still possible.” She had to swallow hard and tried not to allow the images of that night into her head. “Webb was last seen at eight in the evening, and you met me by the creek at eight-thirty. I didn’t want to put in my report that you could have murdered Webb and then calmly had sex with me.”

“Calmly?” he questioned. “We never did anything calmly, especially sex.”

Joelle couldn’t help it, she smiled and then had to choke back a laugh. Why, she didn’t know. There was certainly nothing laughable about any of this. Including those memories. But Dallas was right once again—when they’d been together in those days, it’d been anything but calm.

The images came so fast, so hard that Joelle couldn’t push them all away. Sixteen years was a long time, but for some reason her brain and body just wouldn’t let her forget Dallas’s touch. His scent. His taste.

It was always there with her.

“Yeah,” Dallas mumbled, and the corner of his mouth lifted as if he were about to smile. He didn’t. The moment came and went, and the steel returned to his eyes.

With reason.

He was never going to forgive her for leaving him, and part of Joelle would never forgive herself. No use going back down that road because reliving it would only make matters worse.

“The timeline,” she said, hoping to get her own mind back where it belonged—on this investigation. “You aren’t the only one with a short window for an alibi. Eyewitnesses put Harlan and Clayton in their room around eight-fifteen. Slade was unloading boxes in the kitchen about that time. Wyatt was apparently in one of the storage sheds making out with Amy Simmons, the caretaker’s daughter.”

Dallas nodded, probably because he remembered Wyatt’s string of hot and heavy romances. It seemed that Wyatt had grown up a lot faster than the rest of them had, and his rock-star cowboy looks hadn’t hurt one bit. Back then, anyway. Wyatt was the only one of them to have ever married. Of course, that hadn’t worked out so well for him. His wife had died two years ago, and he hadn’t put those rock-star looks to use by jumping back into the dating pool.

“That leaves Declan,” Dallas finally said, “and he was in the infirmary because Webb had given him a beating just hours earlier.”

Now, it was her turn to nod. “But no one can verify that Declan was actually there.”

Dallas’s next round of profanity was raw. “Declan was barely thirteen and scrawny. No way could he have stabbed a man Webb’s size.”

“I agree. But he could have gotten the drop on him and surprised him. Declan had a strong motive. And he threatened to kill Webb when he beat him.”

“Hell, I threatened Webb, too.” Dallas groaned, put his hands on his hips. “This sure as hell better not be the secret—that you’re going to tell the governor that Declan is the killer.”

“No.” And that’s all she said for several seconds. “A few weeks ago, Kirby called me and said he had proof that he’d murdered Webb.”

“He didn’t!” Dallas shouted.

Since Dallas looked on the verge of exploding, she hurried toward him and took him by the arm to keep him from storming back to Kirby’s room for an explanation.

“I don’t believe Kirby killed Webb, either,” Joelle said, blocking Dallas’s path.

Another bad idea. Because they slammed into each other again. She still wasn’t too steady on her feet, and she stumbled. Right into Dallas’s arms.

Instant contact again. Instant memories.

Instant heat, too.

She had to take a moment before she could continue. “I think whatever proof that Kirby claimed he had was fake. Or circumstantial at best. He was adamant that if it came down to one of you being arrested, that I would help him release the so-called evidence so that he’d be charged instead.”

Dallas froze, obviously thinking about that. “You agreed to that stupid plan?”

“No. Because I knew none of you would allow it. But Dallas, I’m betting if one of you is arrested, whatever Kirby has will show up in some law enforcement office. And if he doesn’t actually have anything, he might try to create it.”

He didn’t argue with that because he no doubt knew it was true. Joelle also figured it would be impossible to talk Kirby out of it. Even though until this incident she’d been out of touch with him for years, the man had always been a little pigheaded. And a lot pigheaded when it came to his foster sons.

Dallas again noticed the close contact between them and he moved away from her. Not far though. In fact, they ended up leaning against the same wall. Practically shoulder to shoulder.

“What specific evidence did Kirby say he had?” Dallas asked. He blew out a long breath and scrubbed his hand over his face.

“He didn’t. But when Owen told me he had the knife, I thought maybe he’d stolen it from Kirby. Kirby denied that.”

“You and Kirby have been having a lot of conversations,” he grumbled.

“Not long ones, I assure you. I know how sick he is, and I didn’t press him on anything. In fact, I didn’t want anyone to know about what he told me.”

“A secret,” Dallas repeated in the same tone as his profanity. “How did Owen find out?”

She blinked, and Joelle could have sworn her heart skipped a beat.

“Owen said you had secrets,” Dallas clarified. “How did he find out this possible package of evidence that Kirby has?”

“I’m not sure,” she answered as soon as she got her mouth working. “Maybe he bugged my condo. Maybe Lindsey did.”

Oh, mercy.

With everything else going on, she hadn’t considered that until now. Of course, either Lindsey or Owen was capable of doing something like that. Especially Owen. He would have definitely wanted to learn everything she’d found out about him.

“What exactly do you have on Owen that would make him go to these extremes?” Dallas asked.

Finally, an easy question, but she doubted he’d like this answer any more than the others she’d given him. “Investments with shady businesses, and Owen wasn’t an innocent party in this, either. I believe it amounts to loan sharking.”

Dallas groaned. “Doesn’t sound like it’s enough to put him away for a long time.” He glanced at her and frowned. “Maybe all of his talk of you marrying him so you can’t testify was a ruse on his part just to get you to the altar.”

She opened her mouth to deny it, but then rethought it.

“Owen’s always been hot for you,” Dallas continued. “Heck, he could have set this all up. Everything. Including the evidence against him. You’re sure what you have is solid enough to put him behind bars?”

Well, she had been until now. “It was one of Owen’s former business associates who tipped me off about the illegal deals. I dug around, found some papers to corroborate the tip.” She had to pause. “But someone broke into my office and stole the papers.”

“Owen,” Dallas quickly concluded.

Joelle had to nod. “Probably. I tried to get duplicates of everything that was stolen, but they, too, had been destroyed. And the tipster suddenly had to leave town.”

“Damn, when Owen does a cover-up, he doesn’t do it halfway,” Dallas mumbled.

“Yes, except for me. I’m the loose end because I saw the documents and can testify that I did.” She huffed. “Well, I can once Owen is no longer capable of putting us in jail.”

“Neutralizing Owen is a must.” Dallas pushed himself away from the wall and faced her. “I need to discredit him any way I can so it’ll also discredit that knife and handkerchief. It’d be even better if I could find something to prove he murdered Webb.”

Joelle wasn’t sure that was possible, but with so much at stake, she would definitely try. “One problem is that Owen has a better alibi than any of you for the time of Webb’s disappearance. He was with the caretaker, Rudy Simmons, from about seven to ten o’clock, and Rudy verifies it.”

Dallas lifted his shoulder. “Maybe both are lying.”

“I wish, and I wish I could prove it.” And she’d tried to find a witness, anyone, who could dispute that time frame. But the bottom line was that Rudy simply didn’t have a motive for murder.

Well, not one that she’d been able to find, anyway.

On the surface, Webb and he had actually been friends of sorts even though Webb was Rudy’s boss.

“Owen is for starters,” Dallas said, “but we need more. I don’t believe any of my foster brothers or Kirby had a thing to do with Webb’s death.”

But he didn’t sound convinced of that. Neither was Joelle.

“We have to name some other suspects,” he added. “Credible ones, so we can end this investigation and clear our names.”

Joelle couldn’t argue with that. “Then we’ll find them at Rocky Creek just as Kirby suggested. Jonah Webb’s wife, Sarah, still lives on the grounds. Rudy Simmons does, too.”

“What about Rudy’s daughter, Amy, the one Wyatt was fooling around with in the shed?”

She had to shake her head. “She died a few years ago from leukemia. But even if she were alive, I doubt she’d make a good suspect. She was a lot smaller than Declan, and from what I can tell, she didn’t have a motive.”

In other words, Webb hadn’t mentally and physically abused her the way he had some of the boys—like Dallas and Declan.

Dallas stayed quiet for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Jonah and Sarah had a son, Billy. He was about fifteen when his father disappeared. What did he have to say about Webb’s murder?”

Another headshake. “I couldn’t find him.” And she’d tried hard. “But I do know he spent some time in a mental facility after an attempted suicide.”

“Probably because his father used to beat the hell of him.” Dallas nodded. “Yeah, definitely a motive for murder, and he was big enough to help kill a man. I’ll see if my brothers can track him down.”

Joelle wasn’t about to refuse their help, not with Owen’s ultimatum and the lab test hanging over their heads.

She was so involved in her thoughts that it took a moment for her to realize that Dallas was staring at her. And he was still too close. She started to move away, but he snagged her by the wrist.

“You’re keeping something from me,” he accused.

Joelle opened her mouth to deny that, but she didn’t manage to get out a word.

“Or maybe you’re just trying to hide the obvious,” Dallas interrupted.

Unfortunately, she knew exactly what obvious he meant.

He got in her face. “This attraction won’t affect what we have to do. In fact, it won’t affect anything. Because we’re going to pretend that it doesn’t exist.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, that helps a lot.” Her stare dared him to disagree with her sarcasm.

He couldn’t.

The air was practically sizzling between them, and it didn’t cool down when they moved away from each other.

“So we don’t pretend,” he insisted. “We don’t do anything about it.” Then he cursed a blue streak.

“Denial’s a pretty sucky deterrent, huh?”

“Yeah.” And he just kept staring at her. Definitely didn’t back away. But then, neither did she. So yes, denial wasn’t going to stop this.

Maybe nothing would.

“I’m trying hard to remember why this can’t happen,” he mumbled a split second before he hooked his arm around her waist and snapped her to him.

It happened so fast that Joelle tried to brace herself for a kiss. But no bracing was necessary. Dallas moved his mouth toward hers. But he didn’t kiss her. He didn’t touch her with those lips that had kissed her too many times to count.

She could feel those old make-out sessions blood deep, and they sent a coil of heat from her head to her toes. Mercy. What was it about Dallas that turned her to mush? It wasn’t fair that he would still have her hormonal number after all these years.

Cursing, he moved in even closer. Almost touching. So close that she took in his scent, and the coil of heat turned to a throbbing ache.

“Tell me why this is a bad idea,” he growled. He slid his hand around the back of her neck, angling her head. Angling her body, too, with the grip he still had on her waist. They were pressed against each other like lovers now.

“Because you can’t forgive me?” she said. “Because you hate me?”

He was right in her face, and she saw what she was saying register in his eyes. Both were valid reasons. Well, the first one, anyway. That didn’t look like hate in all those swirls of blue. No hate in his body, either. His breath was uneven. Heart racing.

“Because we don’t have time for this,” Joelle tried again. “And because you’d regret it.”

Dallas kept staring for what seemed an eternity, and even though he didn’t move, her body seemed to think it was about to get lucky. Everything inside her was melting, urging her to do what Dallas had so far resisted.

Like kiss him.

“I would regret it,” he finally said.

The breath swooshed out of her, and Joelle knew she should feel relief, but that damn ache in her body was overriding common sense. Yes, Dallas would regret it all right. And once the pleasure had worn off—and there would be pleasure—she would regret it, too.

Dallas cursed again. He squeezed his eyes shut a moment, then added a few more words of profanity.

“Get some rest,” he snarled, and moved her aside so he could open the door. “First thing in the morning, we’re going back to that hellhole at Rocky Creek, and one way or another we will find answers.”

He headed out but then stopped when his phone beeped. With his back still to her, Dallas glanced at the screen and then groaned.

“What’s wrong now?” Joelle immediately asked, praying that nothing else had happened.

No such luck.

“My boss just got orders from his supervisor to have the tests expedited on the knife and handkerchief.” Dallas shook his head, then mumbled something she didn’t catch. “They might have the preliminary results back as early as tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Oh, God.

“Yeah.” He said the rest of what he had to say from over his shoulder. “We’ve got less than twenty-fours to clear Kirby’s and our names, or Saul will have to arrest us.”