Delores Fossen - The Marshal's Hostage

“Clearly, Owen isn’t convinced of your love for him or he wouldn’t have thought I stood a chance of talking you out of saying ‘I do.’”

“Clearly,” she repeated in a mumble. “But you didn’t talk. You took me hostage, and that means the damage control I have to do is...massive,” Joelle settled for saying.

But the real word was impossible.

Still, she’d have to try because there wasn’t an acceptable alternative. As soon as she gathered her wits enough to confront Owen, she’d try to resume their deal or work out a new one. For now though, Dallas was one confrontation too many.

“I need some water,” she said. “And a few minutes to gather my breath. If I’m not feeling better soon, then I’ll go to the hospital.”

Dallas scowled as if he might refuse her on both counts, but it wasn’t a delay tactic. Her throat was parched, and apparently she had some explaining to do. Plus, if she didn’t start feeling better, she would indeed go to a hospital. But not the one in Maverick Springs and she wouldn’t use her real name if she got treatment. She couldn’t have this get back to Owen because he would retaliate in the worst possible way.

Cursing, Dallas went to the sink, got her the water, but as soon as he handed it to her, he went to the window and looked outside. Good move and something Joelle wished she’d thought of doing. Owen would indeed send someone to look for them.

“What are the chances Owen will find this cabin?” she asked, sipping the water.

“Extremely high.” Dallas shot her a glance over his shoulder. “That means you give me that explanation you owe me, and then I get you out of here. First to the hospital and then so you can file charges against Owen for drugging you.”

That got Joelle’s complete attention. Well, as much as her drugged mind would allow. “I can’t file charges against Owen.”

“Then I will.”

And Dallas would do exactly that if Joelle didn’t talk, and talk fast. But where to start? This was a tangled mess, and she wasn’t exactly at her best now when it came to winning an argument with Dallas.

“Remember when you were seventeen and Jonah Webb gave you a beating for sassing him?” she asked.

Dallas eased back around to face her, and his eyes were slightly narrowed. Probably because it wasn’t a good memory to bring up. But that incident, that specific memory, was where the tangle really started to get bad.

“I didn’t sass him,” Dallas growled. “Webb beat up Declan for sassing him, and I told Webb if he laid another hand on Declan that I’d kill him. Webb punched me, and I punched him back until his goons held me down and let Webb have a go at me.”

Yes, he had. And at the time Joelle had supported Dallas one hundred percent. Declan had only been thirteen and scrawny at that. Webb had been a hulk of a man. A brute and a grown-up bully who had no right or reason to assault any of the kids at Rocky Creek.

But Webb had done just that.

And often.

That day, he’d had Dallas beaten within an inch of his life. A strong motive for murder. It didn’t look good, either, that Webb had gone missing that very night.

“Owen witnessed the threat you made to Webb,” Joelle continued. “And he insisted I include it in my report to the governor.”

“Of course he did.” Dallas added more profanity. “Owen’s a snotty-nosed tattletale. But hell’s bells, tell me you aren’t marrying Owen because of that?”

“No.” Joelle needed another sip of water before she could continue. “When I started the report, I requested background checks on all persons of interest. Including Owen. One of his disgruntled business associates tipped off my investigator that Owen might not be the upstanding citizen he claimed to be. I personally did some digging and uncovered a few things, including some shady land and business deals.”

Dallas didn’t give her the surprised look she’d expected. “Yeah. Owen’s dirty,” he agreed. “I’d bet my favorite mare on that. And he’s used the money that he inherited from his late wife and in-laws to do plenty of things I wish I could arrest him for. If you’ve got anything of a federal nature that I can use, I want it.”

“I can’t give it to you.”

That earned her a flat look. “We’re going to the hospital. Obviously, the drug has affected you pretty bad if you’re covering for Owen.”

“I’m not covering for him.”

The flat look got flatter. “If it quacks like a duck, it’s a duck.”

And with that smart-mouthed reply, Dallas came across the room, set her water aside and lifted her to her feet. The dizziness returned with a vengeance, and Joelle had no choice but to lean on him. This time she took in his scent. And the feel of the muscles in his arms and chest.

Heck, she took him in, too, because all the memories came flooding back. Not of the fight with Webb or the miserable times they’d had at Rocky Creek but other times, when she’d been in his arms for a completely different reason.

He made a sound, a sort of grunt, and she hoped that didn’t mean he was remembering things best forgotten.

Like the last night they’d had together at the creek.

No.

Best not to think of that.

“The hospital,” Dallas growled. He yanked out his phone, no doubt to call either the hospital or one of his brothers, but he looked at the screen and grumbled something about not having service. It made sense because the cabin wasn’t exactly on the beaten path.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “After I drop you off at the hospital, I can arrest Owen for trying to intimidate you into withholding evidence. Last time I checked that’s called obstruction of justice.”

“It’s the same as what you want me to do for Kirby by killing that report,” she reminded him.

“Yeah,” he readily admitted.

Dallas didn’t have to say more. He would put himself in the line of legal fire for Kirby—real fire, too—for the man who’d saved him from Rocky Creek. And that’s why Joelle dug in her heels when they made it to the door. She’d fought too hard for Dallas to throw himself under a bus that he didn’t even know was headed his way.

“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.”