The Marshal's Hostage

by Delores Fossen

  “There’s more,” she said, still leaning against him. Still taking in his scent. But she eased the memories onto the back burner. Way back. Because she couldn’t have that playing into what else she had to tell him.

  Dallas didn’t roll his eyes, but he came close. “There’s nothing you can say that’ll stop me from going after Owen.”

  “Yes, there is.”

  That halted him for just a moment, but then he huffed and opened the door. He glanced around, those lawman’s eyes checking for any sign of Owen or his men. Joelle tried to check, too, but her main focus was getting Dallas through what she was about to tell him.

  It would change everything.

  “Owen has a knife locked away in a safe-deposit box,” she said. Dallas made a mild sound of interest and scooped her up, taking her toward the shed. “He said he got it from Webb’s office the night he disappeared,” she continued. “That it was lying on the floor and he took it.”

  “Good, now I can add petty theft to the charges I’ll file against Owen,” Dallas mumbled. He opened the shed and climbed onto the four-wheeler with her, positioning her in his lap.

  “The knife has Webb’s blood on it,” Joelle added. “And fingerprints. Yours.”

  That stopped him from starting the engine. Even though everything was still swimming in and out of focus, Joelle tried to catalog every bit of his reaction. He blinked, drew in his breath and then shook his head.

  “Owen’s lying,” Dallas concluded.

  Joelle had had the same reaction when Owen had first dropped the bombshell on her. “He’s not. Not about this, anyway. I had the knife tested. It’s your prints, all right. Webb’s blood, too. His DNA was in the database because his wife had provided a hair sample to the cops when he went missing.”

  With her arm and shoulder against his chest, she could feel his heart thudding. Hers was, too. But she could also see the wheels turning in his head, and Dallas no doubt knew what conclusions she’d reached.

  She hadn’t wanted to go there, but the evidence was pretty damning.

  “I had a friend run the tests,” she explained. “It’s all under wraps, and it’ll stay secret—”

  “Owen somehow faked the prints,” Dallas interrupted. “Maybe the blood, too.”

  Joelle shook her head. “My friend was thorough, and the prints were badly smeared, but they have the pressure impressions consistent with the knife being in your hand.” She had to pause again. “And the blood, well, it’s consistent with the blade being plunged into Webb’s body.”

  She didn’t have to remind him that there had indeed been knife marks found on Webb’s ribs.

  Dallas cursed. “You think I killed Webb.”

  Joelle hated that she even had to ask the question. “Did you?” But she didn’t wait for an answer, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it anyway. “Webb was a horrible excuse for a human being. He deserved to die, and if he’d lived, he would have eventually killed you or one of the others.”

  Dallas grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her up so they were facing each other. “I did not murder Webb.”

  Everything inside her went still, and she stared at Dallas, trying to figure out if that was true.

  “I have no reason to lie to you,” he added.

  He did indeed have a reason because she would be duty bound to report his confession to the authorities. But she saw nothing in his eyes, his expression or his body language to indicate he’d killed Jonah Webb.

  “Oh, God,” she mumbled.

  “Yeah. Let me guess—Owen said if you married him that he’d keep the knife hidden away, that I wouldn’t be arrested for murder.”

  She managed a nod.

  But Dallas only managed a stare. He looked at her as if the moon had just come crashing down on her head. “Why the hell would you have done that for me?” he asked. But as she’d done, he didn’t give her a chance to answer. “You left me sixteen years ago without so much as a word as to where you were going or why I was no longer good enough for you.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” she blurted out.

  He waited, obviously hoping she’d explain further, but Joelle just shook her head. This was not the time to rehash the past, but she owed him something. “I just wanted you to have a fresh start.”

  That didn’t ease the anger in his eyes. “And that couldn’t have happened if you’d stayed?”

  “No.” And Joelle had no doubts about that. “You always talked about making something of yourself. About how important that was—”

  “I could have made something of myself without you breaking things off.”

  “Not true,” she argued. “You would have given me the time and energy you needed to devote to getting your life together. You’d been at Rocky Creek for nearly five years, you were about to turn eighteen and you’d just gotten a scholarship to college. I had another year of high school that I’d spend with a foster family over a hundred miles from where you’d be. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

  “Admirable,” he said, his tone stinging with bitterness.

  “Not really. It was a fresh start for me, too.” She met his gaze when she said that. “And I did come back, to try to mend fences with you.”

  A horrible idea. She’d visited him the summer of her freshman year of college. Why, she didn’t know. Wait. She did know. She had missed him and wanted to say how sorry she was for the way things had turned out. Joelle had planned on using the young and stupid defense.

  “It was too late to mend anything. I’d moved on by then,” he grumbled.

  “Yes, her name was Sandy if I remember correctly.” And she hated that pang of jealousy even now. Hated that she was reliving things best left in the past. “You started this conversation, but is this really something you want to discuss?” Joelle challenged.

  His jaw muscles stirred. His mouth tightened, and Dallas finally shook his head.

  Good.

  Because Joelle wanted it dropped now. It was hard to defend the decisions she’d made when she was seventeen.

  “Even if Owen somehow managed to fake the evidence on that knife,” she said, getting them back to what they should be discussing, “he would use it against you. Against me, too.”

  “You?” he snapped.

  “Because I concealed the lab report. I didn’t intend to conceal it permanently,” she added quickly. “Just long enough so I could figure out who really did kill Webb.”

  “And who did?” Dallas pressed.

  She had to shake her head. “I honestly don’t know. But I worked out a deal with Owen,” Joelle explained. “If I marry him, I can’t be forced to testify against him regarding anything I learned during my investigation. And he won’t testify against me for delaying the release of any evidence I found.”

  Dallas looked down at her. He didn’t have to voice his displeasure. She could feel it in every solid inch of him. He started cursing again, and he jabbed the keys into the ignition of the four-wheeler and started it.

  “You were a fool to trust Owen,” she heard him say even over the roar of the engine.

  They barreled out of the shed and onto the trail that she figured would take them back to town. Dallas was obviously still determined to get her to the hospital.

  And then arrest Owen.

  Then Owen would have Dallas arrested.

  That would mean she would be exactly where she’d fought so hard not to be—with Dallas in jail and Owen pretty much calling the shots about the release of the knife and evidence.

  “The knife looked familiar,” she said, but she wasn’t sure he heard her. Later, she’d have to make him hear.

  She’d also have to put a stop to his plans to arrest Owen.

  Somehow.

  And maybe she could do that merely by describing the knife, by telling Dallas her suspicions about whose it was. Except it was much more than a suspicion.

  Joelle was fairly certain, and if she was right, then all the evidence would only lead to multiple arrests.


  “You have to stop this,” she begged Dallas.

  He went board stiff, and for a moment Joelle thought she’d gotten through his thick skull. He threaded the four-wheeler into a cluster of trees on the banks of a stream, then stopped and killed the engine. When she opened her mouth to ask why he’d done that, he touched his fingers to his lips in a stay-quiet gesture. He also shoved her behind him on the seat and drew his gun.

  Alarmed at both the gestures and the concerned look in his eyes, Joelle followed his gaze back to the cabin.

  And that’s when she saw the two men.

  They were dressed in dark clothes, and both were carrying rifles. It definitely wasn’t Owen or the armed assistants he’d had with him back at the church, but Joelle had no doubts that they worked for Owen. They’d come looking for Dallas and for her.

  One of the men looked directly at them, and she sucked in her breath, waiting for them to demand that Dallas drop his gun so they could take her back to Owen. Instead, the man said something to his comrade.

  And then they both trained those rifles on Dallas and her.

  Chapter Five

  Hell. This was not how Dallas wanted this to go down.

  Joelle was still half-dazed, and they were miles from town with no phone service for him to call for backup and help. Now he had to deal with two armed bozos who no doubt worked for the very man Dallas wanted to arrest.

  After what Joelle had just told him about Owen blackmailing her, it wasn’t a surprise that her fiancé had wanted to stop her from talking.

  Or stop her from backing out of the marriage.

  But Dallas was a little surprised that Owen would order his men to aim rifles at a federal marshal, especially when that marshal knew exactly what a dirt wad Owen really was.

  In hindsight, he should have already gotten Joelle out of the woods and back to town, but Dallas had been so anxious to hear her explanation as to why she was marrying a weasel that he’d now let that weasel get the drop on them.

  Later, he’d kick himself for that Texas-size mistake. But for now, he had a situation to contain.

  “Put down your gun,” one of the bozos warned. He was lean and mean-looking like his partner, but they weren’t the men who’d been back at the church. “And drop those keys for the four-wheeler.”

  If he’d been alone, Dallas wouldn’t have considered giving up without a fight, but he didn’t want Joelle in the middle of a shootout.

  “You do know who I am, right?” Dallas pointed toward his badge just in case their boss hadn’t filled them in on who they were dealing with.

  “You’re a rogue marshal,” the man answered. He took a step closer. “And you’re to hand Ms. Tate over to us.”

  Dallas couldn’t argue with the rogue part, but he sure as heck could with the rest. “Not a chance. She’s in my protective custody.”

  Well, almost.

  After everything she’d told him, Joelle certainly needed some kind of protection from Owen. Of course, Dallas had his own issues to work out with Owen and that blasted knife.

  “I’ll go with them,” Joelle mumbled. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Too late, trouble’s here,” Dallas told her. “And you’re not going anywhere with them.”

  “Remember, Owen can have you arrested,” she tried.

  “Not if I arrest him first.” That was the plan, anyway, but Dallas had to accept that he, too, could be taken into custody until all of this got sorted out. Still, it was a small price to pay to make sure Joelle didn’t do something as stupid as marry Owen.

  To protect Dallas, no less.

  Well, to protect her, too, since Owen had threatened to have her arrested. But that was yet something else that wouldn’t be worked out if he surrendered to these goons and let them haul Joelle back to Owen. He’d just force a hasty “I do” and then whisk her off somewhere so that Dallas couldn’t get to her.

  “Put down your gun,” the man repeated.

  “Or what?” Dallas answered. “You plan to shoot a lawman, huh?”

  The two glanced at each other as if they might consider doing just that. And maybe they would. Obviously, Owen had been willing to go pretty darn far to get what he wanted and hide his criminal activity. Just in case Owen had given these two orders to shoot, Dallas kept his gun aimed at the guy who’d been doing the talking.

  There was a snapping sound behind him, and while trying to keep an eye on the men in front of them, Dallas gave a quick glance over his shoulder. He’d hoped the sound had come from Joelle, but no such luck. It was the sound of footsteps, but he didn’t even have time to fully turn toward them before he heard a gun go off.

  Dallas cursed, hooked his left arm around Joelle and dragged her off the four-wheeler and to the ground. He came up ready to fire, but judging from the sound and angle of the shot, neither of them had fired it.

  It’d come from behind Joelle and him.

  And another shot quickly followed.

  Dallas scrambled over Joelle, shoving her beneath him to protect her.

  “They want me,” she insisted. Obviously still under the stupid assumption that Dallas was going to let her surrender, she tried to get up. He pushed her right back down.

  “Stay put,” he warned her.

  “But they’re trying to kill us.”

  Except they weren’t. Both bullets slammed into the tires of the four-wheeler, making the vehicle impossible to drive. And that was bad news because Dallas had planned on using it to make their escape.

  “Drop your gun,” the guy with the rifle repeated, “and no one will get hurt.”

  “You sure about that?” Dallas countered. “Because those bullets came darn close to hitting us.”

  The man made a sound of disagreement. “If he’d wanted you dead, you already would be.”

  And Dallas figured that was the sad truth.

  He glanced all around, trying to pinpoint the shooter, but Dallas couldn’t see anyone in the thick woods. Thanks to the spring growth, everything was in full leaf and bushy. Plenty of places for a shooter to hide. At least the shots hadn’t come from the stream that was several yards below the embankment because if Joelle and he had to hoof it out of there, that stream was their best bet.

  It was negotiation time.

  “We’re all going into Maverick Springs to talk this out,” Dallas said, making sure it didn’t sound like a suggestion but the order of an ornery lawman. Which he was, at this point. “Of course, all three of you, or however many the hell there are of you, are all under arrest. Your boss, too.”

  And he waited.

  Joelle didn’t say a word. Didn’t move. However, Dallas could hear her breath gusting and feel her heart racing.

  “No deal,” one of the bozos in front of him finally answered. “Our orders are to deliver you back to the church. Both of you.”

  Now that was an interesting order, especially since someone at the church had probably noticed a ruckus going on and called the local cops. Dallas doubted that Owen could manage to silence everyone. Did Owen really think he could go through with those vows to a drugged bride and stand a snowball’s chance of calling it a legal union?

  Maybe.

  And the problem was that Owen was pretty much in control at the church. He had those three armed guards. Maybe more. It was the last place Dallas wanted to take Joelle since Owen could somehow neutralize him. Dallas didn’t plan to be neutralized easily, but six gunmen were more than he wanted to face down with Joelle in tow.

  “Get ready to move,” Dallas whispered to her.

  This would seriously test the gunman’s assurance that no one was going to get hurt, but Dallas figured it was best to get Joelle out of there rather than risk what Owen had planned for her.

  Joelle mumbled a “what?” but Dallas didn’t answer her. They had to do this as fast as possible.

  Using his body, he gave her a hard nudge, and together they rolled off the embankment and into the stream below. There wasn’t much water—both
a blessing and a curse. At least they wouldn’t drown, but if the water had been deep with a strong current, it could have maybe whisked them away.

  They landed hard, but Dallas tried to take the brunt of the fall. He didn’t take even a second to breathe. He hooked his arm around Joelle’s waist and got her sloshing through the ankle-deep water. Dallas went in the opposite direction of where he figured the shooter was still hiding.

  “Hurry,” he urged Joelle because he knew they didn’t have much time before the gunmen made it to the embankment. Seconds at best.

  And he needed to find some sort of cover so they could get some breathing room. He spotted a possible solution just ahead where the banks of the stream weren’t so high. There was a pile of rocks, and the once-high water had shoved dead trees and limbs against them. It was wide enough to stop bullets. The thought had no sooner crossed his mind when he heard something else he didn’t want to hear.

  Another shot.

  He shoved Joelle ahead of him in case the bullet came their way, but it didn’t seem to land anywhere near them. Dallas didn’t wait around to see if the shooter would get better aim; he latched on to Joelle and shoved her behind the rocks.

  “I can talk to them,” she said in between sucking in huge gulps of air.

  “No, you can’t.”

  But Joelle probably didn’t hear him because more bullets came, and these smacked into the rocks. Man, they were loud, and that deafening noise didn’t do much to steady Joelle’s nerves. She was shaking now and mumbling a prayer.

  Good.

  They might need a little divine intervention before this was over.

  “Marshal, you’re making a mistake,” someone called out when the shots finally stopped. Dallas recognized the voice. It was the same dirtbag who’d issued the other warnings. “Just put down your gun so we can end this.”

  Dallas ignored him and made a quick check of his phone. Still no service, which meant they were on their own in getting out of this. He looked around. Spotted their next move. A patch of trees with some dense underbrush. It was just ten yards away and in the direction he wanted to go because there was a main road less than a quarter of a mile away.