Delores Fossen - The Marshal's Hostage

In this case, the hellhole was the Rocky Creek Children’s Facility. A down-home name for a notorious orphanage that had nearly destroyed him.

“Kirby may have pulled strings to get custody of you,” she added, then swallowed hard. “Not just you, but the others. Clayton, Harlan, Slade, Wyatt. And especially Declan.”

All five of his foster brothers. Yeah, there might have been an irregularity or two in the paperwork that had given Kirby guardianship and then full custody. But if Kirby hadn’t gotten them out, none of them might be alive right now. They sure as heck wouldn’t all be deputy U.S. marshals and running a successful ranch.

“Kirby may have done some other things to make sure custody wasn’t contested,” Joelle added in a whisper.

Dallas knew exactly what she meant because he’d already gotten wind of her so-called report that the governor would use to determine if the Texas Rangers should open a full-scale investigation against Kirby. An investigation that could lead to some charges.

Including murder.

Now it was Dallas’s turn to swallow hard. He couldn’t let that happen to Kirby.

The photos of the dead man’s bones flashed through his head. They’d been found seven weeks ago, a little over a mile from the now abandoned Rocky Creek facility. A crew working on the power lines had uncovered it.

Jonah Webb’s body.

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.”