Delores Fossen - The Marshal's Hostage

When Dallas turned around, Joelle was sitting up. Or, rather, she was trying to. She was wobbly, but she finally got herself upright.

She stared at him, dragged her tongue over her bottom lip and added a groan. “You really screwed up this time.”

Dallas grabbed a ratty-looking jacket from a hook on the wall. “Well, I’m not alone. Your fiancé just had you drugged, and you’re scared to death of him.”

She didn’t deny either of those things.

And that meant he had more questions for the nonanswers she’d just given.

Joelle shivered, pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged herself.

Oh, man.

There it was. That punch of sympathy. As long as Joelle was defiant and lying through her teeth, he could hold on to the anger over that blasted report of her inquiry. But seeing her weak and trembling wasn’t good for his resolve of wanting to wring her neck.

Dallas huffed, took the jacket to her and draped it over her shoulders. Even though they needed to get out of there, he sat down beside her. “Why did Owen drug you?”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then, shook her head. “Long story.”

“We have time,” he lied.

Her gaze came to his, and he saw the tears. Yep, tears. He would have had to be a heartless SOB to be immune to those. Dallas cursed, slipped his arm around her, and Joelle went to him as if she belonged there.

She didn’t, he reminded himself. The ring on her finger and the report she’d written were proof of that.

“I need to marry Owen,” Joelle whispered. She moved away from him. “I don’t have a choice. And neither do you.”

Dallas frowned. “What the heck does that mean?”

“It means you have to take me back to the church, and then you have to leave.”

Well, there went that shot of empathy he’d had just seconds earlier. “Have you lost your mind? The man drugged you,” he reminded her in case she’d missed it the first time he’d said it. “There’s no good reason for you to become his wife.”

Her gaze came to his again. “Yes, there is. And don’t ask the reason because you don’t want to know.”

That caused him to shake his head. “You’re wrong about that. In fact, we’re not leaving this place until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t.” She didn’t even hesitate.

Dallas stood and went to look for the key to the four-wheeler. It was a better use of his time than sitting there glaring at her stubborn face and listening to her ramblings that didn’t make sense. But getting up didn’t stop the thought from coming at him.

No pregnancy, so why would a woman marry a man she didn’t love? A jerk who would drug her? There was only one reason that popped into his head.

Because that man had forced her into it.

But why would Owen have done that? Again, he could only think of one reason: Owen wanted something from her.

Joelle wasn’t rich, but she had a job with power and access to the governor. Owen was wealthy, always wheeling and dealing, so perhaps he needed Joelle to cut some corners for him. Maybe along the lines of tax exemptions or reclassification of land that he planned to buy for commercial purposes.

So, yeah, there were reasons why Owen would want Joelle in his bed and under his influence.

But why would Joelle have agreed?

The answer came quickly, too.

Because Owen was blackmailing her or using some other form of coercion.

Dallas rifled through the kitchen cabinets and located the key for the four-wheeler inside the sole coffee cup. They could go now. He could take Joelle to the hospital and face whatever consequences would come from the fallout. On the way there, he could talk her out of submitting a report that would lead to his father’s arrest.

That was a must.

He couldn’t let her go until he was positive that Kirby wouldn’t be hauled off to jail.

“The report,” Dallas repeated under his breath. And he turned back around to face her. “Are you marrying Owen because of that report?”

She dodged his gaze, and he knew he’d hit pay dirt.

Dallas walked closer. “You dug into the old orphanage records when you were researching that report. You no doubt found out that right before Webb disappeared, Kirby was about to launch an investigation into the abuse going on there.”

And there was one other thing she would have done.

“You also dug through the documents connected to Kirby’s filing for guardianship of me and my foster brothers,” Dallas added.

He stooped down again, cupped her chin and forced her to make eye contact. Her pupils were still dilated, but he had no doubt that she had understood every single word he’d said.

“Kirby probably cut some corners when he did that guardianship paperwork,” Dallas admitted. “He did that to save us. Heck, he saved you, too, and got you into a good foster home.” He paused. “Are you marrying Owen because of something you found during your inquiry?”

Joelle didn’t answer. She tried to look away, but Dallas held her chin so she couldn’t move. Still, she squeezed her eyes shut.

Dallas had to press harder. “Are you marrying Owen to save Kirby?”

Joelle opened her eyes, her gaze nailed to his. “No.” A shivery sound left her mouth. “I’m marrying Owen to save you.”

Chapter Four

Joelle heard the words come out of her mouth, but she couldn’t believe she’d actually said them aloud.

To Dallas, no less.

She’d spoken the truth—for one of the first times today—but it was a truth that Dallas shouldn’t have heard. It wouldn’t make things easier. Just the opposite. Because now Dallas would demand an explanation.

Something she couldn’t give him.

Joelle closed her eyes and tried to think. It was next to impossible. Everything inside her was spinning, and she doubted she could stand up, much less try to run.

“What was in that drink?” she asked.

“I think you know,” Dallas answered. “Someone drugged you. Owen, no doubt.”

Yes, and for her there wasn’t a shred of doubt. Owen had done this, or rather he’d gotten Lindsey to do it for him. That infuriated her. Joelle had known she couldn’t trust Lindsey. For Pete’s sake, the woman worked for Owen and was probably in love with him. But she hadn’t thought for one second that Lindsey would resort to something like this.

“How the heck could your marrying Owen save me?” Dallas demanded.

Joelle heard him moving around, and when she opened her eyes again, Dallas was right in front of her face. So close that she could see the flecks of gray in his mostly blue eyes. She could see the determination there, too, and knew a lie wasn’t going to fix this.

The truth wouldn’t, either.

If fact, the truth would make this situation explode like an oil rig fire, and finding a way to dodge that fire was going to be tough.

Dallas stared at her. Cursed. And moved back. “I need to get you to the hospital.”

That would only make things worse because it would get the sheriff involved. Joelle grabbed his wrist, and even though she didn’t have much strength in her wobbly grip, she pulled him back down so that he was kneeling on the floor beside her. Not exactly a brilliant move. They were touching now, and that was never a good idea when it came to Dallas and her.

Even in its drugged state, her body thought it might get lucky. It wouldn’t. And she was reasonably sure Dallas would agree.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital.” She hoped that was true, anyway. “Owen wouldn’t have given me a drug that could kill me. My guess is whatever was in that drink, it was meant to daze me so I wouldn’t be able to hear any argument you have to putting a stop to the wedding.”

Dallas stared at her from beneath the brim of his Stetson. Except it wasn’t just a stare. He seemed to be examining her. Maybe to make sure she wasn’t about to succumb to the drug.