The Marshal's Hostage (12 page)

Dallas had to do a mental double take. “What?”

“Nothing on it,” Saul verified. “That puts you and your brothers in the clear. Not Kirby though.”

Any relief that Dallas felt went flying out the window. “What the hell does that mean?”

“The handkerchief had Kirby’s DNA and some blood spots that the lab hasn’t been able to ID yet. If it’s Webb’s blood...” But Saul didn’t finish that thought.

Didn’t have to.

Kirby would be questioned, maybe even charged with the murder, if it was Webb’s blood.

Except Dallas wasn’t going to let that happen.

“You’re sure the knife was clean?” Joelle pressed. And Dallas knew why. After all, she’d had a knife tested with his prints and Webb’s blood. Now, this knife was clean.

Dallas looked at Owen, waiting for the man to say something, but Owen only gave him one of those smug smiles that made Dallas want to mop the barn floor with him.

“The person who sent me that knife is playing some kind of game,” Owen said, his attention fastened to Joelle and Dallas. “Makes me think he or she might have something else tucked away. Something that will prove who killed Webb.”

Ah, there it was. The carefully veiled threat. Owen had the real knife with Dallas’s prints, and he’d be more than willing to hand it over if Joelle didn’t go through with the wedding.

“A game?” Dallas repeated. He glared at Owen. “Why would this
person
give the marshals a fake?”

Owen lifted his shoulder. “Maybe the person likes to see you squirm?”

Yeah, Owen would like that, and he was dancing them around like puppets.

Dallas looked at Joelle, and a dozen things passed between them. They didn’t say a word to each other, but he could see in her eyes and body language that it was time to put and an end to this. Well, an end to part of it, anyway.

Owen’s lies.

“I’ll start,” she said in a whisper to Dallas, and she turned to Saul. “During the course of my interviews into Webb’s death, I ran across certain testimony that implicates Owen in various white-collar crimes.”

“Wait a minute!” Owen jumped between Joelle and Saul, or rather he tried, but Dallas yanked him back and put him against the wall.

“If you do this, you’ll regret it,” Owen mumbled so that only Dallas could hear. “Joelle, too.”

Maybe. But at this point, it was better than playing games with the likes of Owen.

“You’d better sit down, Saul,” Dallas warned his boss. “Because when this is done, you’ll need to arrest me.”

“And me,” Joelle volunteered. She yanked off her engagement ring and slapped it into Owen’s hand.

Saul cursed a blue streak and dropped down into the chair. “Tell me,” he ordered.

Chapter Twelve

Joelle felt as if she’d just weathered a fierce storm. But there was another one headed her way.

Maybe several, she amended, when Dallas ushered her inside the ranch house.

Judging from his body language and tone, his latest phone conversation wasn’t going well. Joelle had already had enough bad news for the day without adding more, but it appeared that’s what she was going to get.

“How’d that happen?” Dallas snapped.

Joelle knew the caller was Clayton—she’d seen his name on Dallas’s cell phone screen—which meant this likely had something to do with the investigation.

Maybe Saul Warner had decided to arrest Dallas and her, after all. When the senior marshal had ordered them away from headquarters earlier, he’d said he had to evaluate all the evidence and testimonies before he could make a decision about filing charges.

Saul had taken Dallas’s badge, though.

That hadn’t exactly been a surprise, but Joelle knew that Dallas was upset about it. Since he was thirteen, he’d wanted to be a marshal, and now that might be taken away from him permanently.

Of course, her job was a goner, too. Saul hadn’t called the governor, but eventually he’d have to do it, and that meant Joelle had to bite the bullet and call her boss first. During that conversation, she would have to tender her resignation and wait to see if she was facing jail time.

As bad as that was—and it was
bad—
it still paled in comparison to the fact that someone had tried to kill Dallas and her. Hard to hunt for a new job with a killer breathing down their backs. That meant they had to find Webb’s killer. Or whoever was after them.

Maybe that was the same person.

Maybe not.

After all, Lindsey had hired the P.I. to
follow
her, so maybe the woman was responsible for the attacks. Still, it was an overkill approach to stop her marriage to Owen. And if that had been Lindsey’s plan, then she no longer had a reason to wish Joelle dead since the wedding was definitely off.

That was the one good thing to come out of this.

She wouldn’t have to pretend to be engaged to Owen any longer.

Dallas stayed in the entry, finishing his call, but Joelle was so exhausted that she headed for the guest room where she’d slept the night before. When she stepped into the hall, she saw a nurse come out of Kirby’s room. The woman put her finger to her mouth in a stay-quiet gesture and closed Kirby’s door.

Later, Kirby would be another issue they’d have to handle. There was no way Dallas would let the man go to jail, and besides, he was too fragile for that anyway. That wouldn’t stop them from putting him under house arrest though, and Joelle made a mental note to contact a friend who specialized in criminal law. Dallas, Kirby and she might need someone like that before this was all over.

She dropped down onto the foot of the bed, kicked off the heels that were killing her feet and was contemplating what to do first—shower, eat, sleep.

Or cry.

There were so many emotions whirling inside her. Old memories that suddenly didn’t feel so old because of the kiss in Webb’s office. She couldn’t even berate herself for it or swear that it wouldn’t happen again because one of the big moments of a day filled with big moments was that she knew she wasn’t over Dallas.

Never had been.

And wishing things were different wasn’t going to make her feelings go away. Besides, Joelle wasn’t even sure she wanted things to be different. Not her feelings, anyway.

Speaking of the devil, she heard movement in the hall, lifted her head and spotted Dallas in the doorway. He’d obviously finished his phone call, and with his attention fastened to her, he propped his shoulder against the jamb. He stared at her but didn’t come closer.

“Feel up to coming into the kitchen?” he asked, his voice low. He tipped his head toward Kirby’s door. “Don’t want to wake him. And besides, you need to eat.”

She did. Her stomach was growling, and she agreed with the part about not waking Kirby. Still, it took a little effort for her to get off the bed. Joelle didn’t bother with her shoes. Barefoot, she just followed Dallas to the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. She didn’t think his expression was solely from the fatigue and the ordeal they’d just gone through.

He didn’t answer her right away. Dallas pulled out a glass dish of leftover spaghetti and meatballs and put it in the microwave. “Owen will be out of jail soon. His lawyer is already working on posting his bail.”

Joelle glanced at the time on the stove clock, groaned and sank down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “He spent only a few hours in a holding cell.”

Dallas lifted his shoulder. “He can afford good lawyers. And obviously bail. Besides, the charges weren’t as serious as they should have been. Only obstruction of justice and making a false statement about the fake knife that he turned over to the marshals.”

No attempted murder charge, but then it would have been hard to pin that on him. For now. However, Joelle could maybe get those white-collar crimes she’d uncovered to stick.

“What about the real knife, the one with your prints?” she asked.

“Owen has agreed to turn it over and claims he was only holding it back because he was afraid it would implicate you.”

What a snake. He was holding it back to blackmail them. “You’ll tell your boss the truth?”

Dallas nodded. “When the results are back. I’d like to delay the charges brought against us.”

Yes, and there would be charges. Joelle didn’t see a way around that.

“What about Kirby?” She hated to bring it up, but it was his DNA they’d found on the handkerchief, and the marshals would have to deal with that.

She silently cursed Owen for adding this stress to a man who could be on his deathbed.

“Saul’s going to wait on the handkerchief, too,” Dallas explained. His breath and expression were weary. “But after all the test results are in on the real knife, Saul will have no choice but to question Kirby. And maybe file charges,” he added in a mumble.

Yes. That meant they only had a couple of days at most to try to find the real killer. It might not get Dallas, Kirby and her out of hot water, but delivering a killer to the marshals would end the threats against them and maybe stop Kirby and Dallas from being arrested for murder.

And that brought her to another concern.

“Once the governor finds out that there’ll be charges brought against me, I seriously doubt he’ll give me permission to continue this investigation.”

Dallas looked back at her, the corner of his mouth lifting into a weary smile. “Guess you’ll have to go rogue like me. Because I’m not stopping until I clear Kirby’s name.”

“And your own.” When Dallas turned around, her gaze fell to his rodeo belt where his badge should have been. “I’m sorry.”

“Couldn’t be helped.” He said it offhanded enough, but she saw the hurt in his eyes.

Dallas took the dish from the microwave, put in on the counter between them and grabbed some forks. “I say let’s skip the plates.”

As hungry as she was, Joelle thought that was a great idea, but when he passed her one of the forks, his hand brushed against hers. With everything else going on, the last thing that should cross her mind was his touch.

But it did anyway.

Dallas didn’t ease back, either. He stood there, his index finger covering hers. “I’m thinking this is a bad idea,” he drawled.

“A terrible one,” she confirmed.

Of course, that didn’t stop her from leaning forward. Dallas leaned in, too. His mouth brushed against hers. It barely qualified as a kiss, but because it was Dallas’s mouth, it slammed through her. Not all pleasant, either, since the brush-kiss only made her ache for him.

“We always were good at this,” he mumbled, and the movement caused more touching of his lips against hers.

“Too good. You taught me how to kiss,” Joelle reminded him.

“Must be why you’re so good at it,” he joked.

Dallas chuckled. More movement. More touching. More barely qualifying kisses that were still making her burn. Despite the burn, despite everything, it felt good to be with him like this. And even better than good, it felt right.

It wasn’t.

But Joelle was suddenly having a hard time remembering why it was wrong.

He slid his hand around her neck, and while keeping it in place, Dallas came around the breakfast counter and eased her off the seat.

Right into his arms.

He didn’t kiss her though. With his forehead bunched up, he just looked down at her as if trying to decide what to do.

“You’re not going to say no, are you?” His forehead bunching up even more.

“No to what?” she asked.

“Anything that happens between us in the next few minutes,” he clarified.

Oh.

That.

Joelle shook her head. “There won’t be any
nos
from me in the next few minutes.”

Maybe not ever when it came to Dallas. And she wasn’t exactly proud that Dallas was her hormonal Achilles’ heel. It wasn’t hard to understand why. He stood there, all cowboy, in his jeans and boots. He’d left his Stetson in the entry, but that only allowed her to see his rumpled, bedroom hair.

Bedroom eyes, too.

Ironic, since they’d never actually had sex in a bedroom. Every time they’d been together at the ranch, they’d had to sneak away so that Webb or someone else wouldn’t see them.

Dallas cursed, squeezed his eyes shut, and she thought he might indeed back away. But he didn’t. His eyes opened, he dragged her to him and kissed her the way her body was begging for him to kiss her.

It was like stepping back in time. But better, too. They weren’t the same people they’d been back then, and Dallas somehow brought all of that and their shared past right into that kiss. Joelle heard herself make a helpless sound of surrender, and she was lost.
Willingly.

Dallas brought her closer to him until they were wrapped in each other’s arms. Until everything was hot and spinning out of control. The spinning got worse when he kissed her neck.

And lower.

He pushed aside the gold heart necklace and kissed her throat.

Then lower.

To the tops of her breasts, which he kissed through her clothes.

She’d known that nothing could stay simple with them. A kiss couldn’t just be a kiss. And when he deepened it and slid his hand between them to touch her breasts, Joelle figured they were only minutes away from hauling each other off to bed.

She fought to remember why that wasn’t a good idea, but the buzzing sound cut through her thoughts. Through the heat.

Dallas cursed, pulled back and yanked the phone from his pocket. “What now?” he snarled.

Joelle glanced at the screen, expecting to see a message from one of his brothers or maybe his boss. There was a lot going on with the investigation, and there’d hopefully be updates. Good ones. She’d had her fill of bad news for a lifetime.

But the message was from Owen.

They groaned in unison. “What does he want now?” Joelle asked.

Dallas held up the screen for her to have a better look. “Here’s something you should know,” the message said.

Joelle felt her heart thud against her chest, and it wasn’t a residual effect of the kiss. She shouldn’t have such a reaction to anything Owen might say, but her mind immediately went in a bad direction.

But then she shook her head.

Owen didn’t know about
that.

“It’s probably another threat to get you to marry him,” Dallas mumbled, and he clicked on the attachment that Owen had sent with the message.

It seemed to take an eternity for the page to load, and it wasn’t a photograph as Joelle had originally thought. She wouldn’t have put it past Owen to show them more so-called evidence that would send them to jail.

But it was a document of some kind.

“What the hell?” Dallas said, and he positioned his phone closer so he could have a better look.

Joelle went to his side so she could do that same thing, and when she saw the wording at the top of the document, all the air vanished from her lungs. She staggered back, and in the same motion, she caught onto Dallas’s wrist. Trying to stop him from reading it.

Oh, God.

It was too late.

Dallas’s gaze slashed to hers, his eyes already narrowed while he shook his head. Everything about him was demanding an explanation.

“It’s a birth certificate,” he said.

She had no choice but to nod. Joelle tried to speak, tried to explain, but her throat clamped shut.

Dallas had trouble speaking, too. The shock and maybe the outrage had turned his jaw to iron. He got right in her face. “You have a baby?”