Delores Fossen - The Marshal's Hostage

“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.” Joelle 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?”