The Marshal's Hostage. Delores Fossen

to protect her, too, since Owen had threatened to have her arrested. But that was yet something else that wouldn’t be worked out if he surrendered to these goons and let them haul Joelle back to Owen. He’d just force a hasty “I do” and then whisk her off somewhere so that Dallas couldn’t get to her.

      “Put down your gun,” the man repeated.

      “Or what?” Dallas answered. “You plan to shoot a lawman, huh?”

      The two glanced at each other as if they might consider doing just that. And maybe they would. Obviously, Owen had been willing to go pretty darn far to get what he wanted and hide his criminal activity. Just in case Owen had given these two orders to shoot, Dallas kept his gun aimed at the guy who’d been doing the talking.

      There was a snapping sound behind him, and while trying to keep an eye on the men in front of them, Dallas gave a quick glance over his shoulder. He’d hoped the sound had come from Joelle, but no such luck. It was the sound of footsteps, but he didn’t even have time to fully turn toward them before he heard a gun go off.

      Dallas cursed, hooked his left arm around Joelle and dragged her off the four-wheeler and to the ground. He came up ready to fire, but judging from the sound and angle of the shot, neither of them had fired it.

      It’d come from behind Joelle and him.

      And another shot quickly followed.

      Dallas scrambled over Joelle, shoving her beneath him to protect her.

      “They want me,” she insisted. Obviously still under the stupid assumption that Dallas was going to let her surrender, she tried to get up. He pushed her right back down.

      “Stay put,” he warned her.

      “But they’re trying to kill us.”

      Except they weren’t. Both bullets slammed into the tires of the four-wheeler, making the vehicle impossible to drive. And that was bad news because Dallas had planned on using it to make their escape.

      “Drop your gun,” the guy with the rifle repeated, “and no one will get hurt.”

      “You sure about that?” Dallas countered. “Because those bullets came darn close to hitting us.”

      The man made a sound of disagreement. “If he’d wanted you dead, you already would be.”

      And Dallas figured that was the sad truth.

      He glanced all around, trying to pinpoint the shooter, but Dallas couldn’t see anyone in the thick woods. Thanks to the spring growth, everything was in full leaf and bushy. Plenty of places for a shooter to hide. At least the shots hadn’t come from the stream that was several yards below the embankment because if Joelle and he had to hoof it out of there, that stream was their best bet.

      It was negotiation time.

      “We’re all going into Maverick Springs to talk this out,” Dallas said, making sure it didn’t sound like a suggestion but the order of an ornery lawman. Which he was, at this point. “Of course, all three of you, or however many the hell there are of you, are all under arrest. Your boss, too.”

      And he waited.

      Joelle didn’t say a word. Didn’t move. However, Dallas could hear her breath gusting and feel her heart racing.

      “No deal,” one of the bozos in front of him finally answered. “Our orders are to deliver you back to the church. Both of you.”

      Now that was an interesting order, especially since someone at the church had probably noticed a ruckus going on and called the local cops. Dallas doubted that Owen could manage to silence everyone. Did Owen really think he could go through with those vows to a drugged bride and stand a snowball’s chance of calling it a legal union?

      Maybe.

      And the problem was that Owen was pretty much in control at the church. He had those three armed guards. Maybe more. It was the last place Dallas wanted to take Joelle since Owen could somehow neutralize him. Dallas didn’t plan to be neutralized easily, but six gunmen were more than he wanted to face down with Joelle in tow.

      “Get ready to move,” Dallas whispered to her.

      This would seriously test the gunman’s assurance that no one was going to get hurt, but Dallas figured it was best to get Joelle out of there rather than risk what Owen had planned for her.

      Joelle mumbled a “what?” but Dallas didn’t answer her. They had to do this as fast as possible.

      Using his body, he gave her a hard nudge, and together they rolled off the embankment and into the stream below. There wasn’t much water—both a blessing and a curse. At least they wouldn’t drown, but if the water had been deep with a strong current, it could have maybe whisked them away.

      They landed hard, but Dallas tried to take the brunt of the fall. He didn’t take even a second to breathe. He hooked his arm around Joelle’s waist and got her sloshing through the ankle-deep water. Dallas went in the opposite direction of where he figured the shooter was still hiding.

      “Hurry,” he urged Joelle because he knew they didn’t have much time before the gunmen made it to the embankment. Seconds at best.

      And he needed to find some sort of cover so they could get some breathing room. He spotted a possible solution just ahead where the banks of the stream weren’t so high. There was a pile of rocks, and the once-high water had shoved dead trees and limbs against them. It was wide enough to stop bullets. The thought had no sooner crossed his mind when he heard something else he didn’t want to hear.

      Another shot.

      He shoved Joelle ahead of him in case the bullet came their way, but it didn’t seem to land anywhere near them. Dallas didn’t wait around to see if the shooter would get better aim; he latched on to Joelle and shoved her behind the rocks.

      “I can talk to them,” she said in between sucking in huge gulps of air.

      “No, you can’t.”

      But Joelle probably didn’t hear him because more bullets came, and these smacked into the rocks. Man, they were loud, and that deafening noise didn’t do much to steady Joelle’s nerves. She was shaking now and mumbling a prayer.

      Good.

      They might need a little divine intervention before this was over.

      “Marshal, you’re making a mistake,” someone called out when the shots finally stopped. Dallas recognized the voice. It was the same dirtbag who’d issued the other warnings. “Just put down your gun so we can end this.”

      Dallas ignored him and made a quick check of his phone. Still no service, which meant they were on their own in getting out of this. He looked around. Spotted their next move. A patch of trees with some dense underbrush. It was just ten yards away and in the direction he wanted to go because there was a main road less than a quarter of a mile away.

      “We’re heading there.” Dallas tipped his head to the clump of oaks and hackberries.

      Joelle nodded, but it was a wobbly one, and she was still shaking. Even though her eyes were no longer as glazed as they had been, he still wanted to get her to the hospital. Then he could make sure she was okay and have a blood test done to determine exactly what Owen had used to drug her.

      Dallas didn’t wait for another hail of bullets. He got Joelle moving toward the trees. No shots, but he did hear at least one of the gunmen cursing.

      “This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Marshal,” the man shouted.

      Dallas wanted to tell him that he wasn’t the one playing here, but he didn’t want to waste his breath. Plus, the gunmen could use the sound of his voice to pinpoint their exact location in the bushes. Unlike the rocks, the underbrush wouldn’t give them much protection, and it was best not to do anything to get those bullets flying again.

      He pointed to the next clump