The Marshal's Hostage

“Joelle?” the man called out.

Great. Now the bozo was trying to bargain with a drugged woman. “Ignore him,” Dallas told her.

She did. Joelle moved when he moved, and they darted behind the next set of trees.

“Joelle?” the guy repeated. “I know you can hear me. So can the marshal. And I don’t think you’re going to want him to hear what I’m about to say.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dallas grumbled under his breath, and he got ready for their next round of evade and escape.

“I’m supposed to give you a message, Joelle,” the man continued, his voice practically echoing through the woods. “Come back to the church with us now, or I’m to tell the marshal your dirty little secret.”

Damn, the guy wasn’t giving up.

Dallas immediately dismissed what the man said. But Joelle didn’t. She sucked in her breath hard, and her eyes widened. She shook her head.

And Dallas’s stomach knotted.

Obviously, there was something to the dirty little secret threat. Part of him really wanted to know what had caused the color to drain from Joelle’s already too-pale face. But the other part of him didn’t want the guy to be able to use whatever he was trying to use to get her to cooperate.

“Let’s go,” Dallas insisted.

Joelle didn’t argue. She practically leaped up from the ground, and even though she was still shaky, she ran as if her life depended on it. She didn’t stop at the tree cluster, either. She kept moving and used the trees to help her stay on her feet.

“Running won’t help,” the man yelled. “One way or another, the marshal will find out what you did.”

Joelle looked over at him, the tears shimmering in her eyes. “Don’t ask, please,” she said when Dallas opened his mouth.

Oh, hell.

This couldn’t be good, but it was the worst possible time to push for information.

“The marshal will find out your secret,” the man shouted. It was harder to hear his voice now, but Dallas seemed to have no trouble making out every word. “And if you think he’ll protect you after he finds out what you did, you’re wrong, Joelle. Dead wrong.”

Chapter Six

Everything inside Joelle was swirling, and she couldn’t blame it entirely on the drugged drink. Those three words, dirty little secret, were repeating in her head just like the spray of bullets that the gunmen had fired into the rocks.

Mercy.

How had Owen learned that?

And better yet, how could she keep Dallas from asking her about it?

If he figured out the truth, it certainly wouldn’t help matters. No way. Joelle needed to hurry to town so she could talk to Owen and try to defuse this situation before it blew up in all their faces.

“Keep moving,” Dallas reminded her, and he shoved aside some low hanging tree limbs while he made another check over his shoulder.

Joelle checked, too, but she couldn’t see the gunmen. That was something at least, but she knew that any second the bullets could start flying again.

They ran for what seemed like an eternity, and the woods and underbrush got even thicker. The bushes scraped at her robe and skin, reminders that she wasn’t dressed for a trek through the wild. Of course, she hadn’t planned on spending her day like this since she should have been standing in front of the altar by now.

So much for that plan.

Even over the roaring in her ears, Joelle heard something. Dallas apparently did, too, because he stopped so abruptly that she plowed right into him. He eased back more branches, and she saw the road.

And the truck.

The fear slammed through her again because she thought it could be one of Owen’s men, but Dallas stepped out onto the road and flagged down the driver. When the truck braked to a stop, Joelle saw the familiar face behind the wheel.

Marshal Clayton Caldwell.

She’d not only known him for years since their time together at the Rocky Creek Children’s Facility, he was also Dallas’s foster brother.

“I’ve been out looking for you,” Clayton said, his eyes widening a little when his gaze landed on her. “Didn’t figure on seeing you, Joelle.”

Not exactly a warm greeting, but then she hadn’t expected warmth from any of Kirby’s boys. Still, a frosty welcome was much better than facing the gunmen. But it didn’t mean she was safe.

None of them were.

Dallas practically pushed her into the cab of the truck and moved her over so he could follow on the passenger’s side. He kept watch of the surrounding woods. Kept his gun ready, too.

“There are three armed men probably following us,” Dallas told his brother as Clayton made a quick call to let someone know that he’d found them. As soon as he finished, they sped away. “I need them brought in for questioning.”

“Declan, Slade and Wyatt are all out looking,” Clayton explained. “Can’t contact them because they’re in dead zones, but if the men are still out there, they’ll find them. These guys took shots at you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dallas confirmed. “But I’m not sure they were actually trying to kill us. They kept wanting me to turn Joelle over to them, and while we were running, they probably had a chance or two to mow us down and didn’t.”

Until then, Joelle hadn’t realized that. And maybe it didn’t matter. Even though the gunmen might not have been trying to kill them, Dallas and she could have still been hit by one of those bullets.

“All hell’s breaking loose back in town,” Clayton said. “Owen’s at the marshal’s office claiming you kidnapped Joelle.”

“I did,” Dallas admitted at the same moment that Joelle answered, “He didn’t.”

Dallas looked at her and frowned.

“Someone drugged me,” Joelle explained. “And Dallas removed me from the scene so he could question me and make sure I wasn’t in danger.”

Dallas’s left eyebrow slid up.

“Owen already has enough to burn us,” she mumbled. “I’m not giving him more.”

Besides, she had to work out some kind of truce with Owen, and it wouldn’t help any of them if Owen was hell-bent on arresting Dallas for kidnapping.

Dallas didn’t take his attention off her. “Does this have something to do with the dirty little secret?”

“No,” she snapped, but inside she was repeating, Oh, God. She couldn’t deal with this now.

Clayton glanced at both of them, then at her engagement ring. “So, you’re marrying Owen?” There was a boatload of suspicion and skepticism in his tone. “Never took you two for a love match. Always figured you’d end up with Dallas if he could ever forgive you for walking out on him.”

“I don’t forgive,” Dallas grumbled. “And it’s not a love match. Joelle’s marrying the moron because he claims to have a knife with my prints and Webb’s blood.”

Joelle hadn’t expected for Dallas just to blurt it out like that, but then she remembered this wasn’t just his foster brother but a fellow marshal. He trusted Clayton. Heck, so did she.

To a point.

But neither of them was going to be able to defuse this Owen bomb. She could.

Well, maybe.

“She’s marrying Owen to keep you from being arrested,” Clayton concluded under his breath. “How’d your prints get on the knife?”

At least he hadn’t asked if Dallas was guilty of murder. Maybe he didn’t want to know. Or maybe he knew unequivocally that his foster brother was innocent.

Joelle certainly hadn’t given Dallas the benefit of the doubt. And look where that had gotten her.

Dallas shook his head. “I’m sure I handled a knife or two during my time at Rocky Creek.”

“Yeah, we all did,” Clayton admitted. “I remember for a while there you kept one under your pillow when Webb was gunning so hard for Declan.”

That brought the old memories flooding back. Joelle hadn’t known about the knife, but she did know that Dallas and the others were often put in positions where they had to protect Declan. What Joelle had never understood was why Webb had had it in for Declan. And why Declan had never seemed to be able to back down even when Webb was basically assaulting him.

“You got a look at the knife?” Clayton asked, and it took a moment to realize he was talking to her.

Joelle nodded, but when she didn’t say more, Dallas huffed. “If you know whose knife it is, now’s the time to tell me.”

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