The devil of a man who’d once run Rocky Creek and someone who’d been missing for sixteen years.
“Jonah’s rib cage showed signs of knife wounds,” Joelle explained.
Something else he didn’t need to be reminded of. And that brought back another set of images that Dallas would rather forget. “I read the forensic reports.”
He’d also studied the police file and the official notification from the governor to authorize Joelle, one of the state’s legal advisers, to conduct an independent inquiry to determine what had gone on at the state-run facility all those years ago.
“My father didn’t kill Jonah Webb,” Dallas concluded.
Something went through her eyes. Not a glare this time, but something he couldn’t quite figure out. “The governor’s a fair man.”
That gave Dallas zero reassurance. “If there’s something in your report that implicates my father, and I’m pretty sure there is, then the governor will have no choice but to make it an official investigation.”
She blew out a long breath, swiped some of those now dangling strands of hair from her face.
He waited, mentally rehearsing the argument to make her amend that report. Or burn it. Or just plain lie. “Arresting my father wouldn’t be justice, and you know it.”
“Yes, but it would be the law,” she snapped.
“To hell with the law.” Dallas nearly winced at his own words. He was a federal marshal, sworn to obey the very laws that might take his father from him.
He forced himself to regain what little composure he could. “My father’s not in good health and might not survive something like this.” That caused the anger to roar through him again. “You can stop it now.”
She shook her head, and yet something different went through her eyes. Not emotion exactly, but she got a weird glazed look.
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.” Joel
le 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 th
e 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.
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