The Marshal's Hostage. Delores Fossen

was sure of it. But she couldn’t take the time to berate herself for downing it like water.

      She had to get Dallas out of there now.

      “You have to go,” she repeated. Except she hardly recognized her own words. She sounded like a drunk. Felt like one, too.

      “I’m not going anywhere,” Dallas snarled, and he scooped her up in his arms.

      Joelle shook her head and prayed she could convince him to leave. Unfortunately, her mouth was partly numb, and the words didn’t come.

      “Who drugged you?” he demanded. “Why did you say it wasn’t safe for either of us?”

      She’d said that last part because her suddenly fuzzy brain had let it slip. As for the first question, she knew who was responsible for this, but telling Dallas that would open a Pandora’s box that should remain closed.

      Joelle prayed that whatever drug she’d been given would wear off quickly and that it wouldn’t be harmful.

      Dallas carried her across the room, deposited her on the love seat and took out his cell phone. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

      “No!” Joelle used every bit of her strength, which wasn’t much, to latch on to his wrist. “You can’t. I’ll be okay. Just give me a second to catch my breath.”

      He stared at her, those intense blue eyes drilling holes in her and with the familiar star badge on his belt right in her face. Both Dallas and the badge were swimming in and out of focus, but Joelle knew that neither was going anywhere until she gave him some kind of explanation.

      Or rather until she gave him a lie.

      It had to be a quick one since she figured Owen would be there in ten minutes or less.

      “I’ve been having anxiety attacks,” she said, and the lie began. “Lindsey probably saw one coming on and gave me my meds in the drink.” To add some detail to the lie, she dropped her head back on the love seat arm. “I need a quick nap before the wedding.”

      But more than that, she needed Dallas gone.

      He still didn’t budge. Dallas stood there, all six feet three inches of him. A real Texas cowboy cop as his name implied, in his jeans, white button-down shirt and cowboy boots. Oh, and the midnight-black Stetson that was the same color as his rumpled hair.

      Because she’d seen him stark naked, she knew that black hair was sprinkled on his chest. She also knew he had a body that could make her go all hot. His body hadn’t been the issue when they’d been together as teenagers. Nor the sex. With Dallas, it’d been powder keg and fireworks.

      The problem had been with, well, everything else.

      Dallas glanced at her wedding dress again, the cup on the floor and then his lethal stare came back to her.

      No.

      Even through the whirlwind in her head, Joelle could see that he was piecing together things that should never be pieced.

      “Why are you marrying Owen?” He used his marshal’s voice, the one that had no doubt gotten him many confessions.

      She’d have to lie again. Except this one would be a whopper. “Because I love him.”

      Joelle hoped she sounded believable, but judging from Dallas’s worsening glare, she hadn’t even come close.

      “I’m pregnant,” she tried again.

      He stooped down, violating her personal space, and he put his face just inches from hers. “Liar. If you were pregnant, you wouldn’t have had a shot of Jack Daniel’s.”

      He had her on that particular lie, but Joelle still had to do something, anything, to convince him to leave. “Go, please, for old times’ sake.”

      “You don’t have any old times’ sake favors left. You’re the one who walked out on me, and now you’re trying to destroy my father.”

      She started to shake her head, but it only made the dizziness worse so she stopped. It made the dizziness worse to sit up as well, but Joelle had to keep watching out the front window for Owen.

      Dallas took out his phone again. “Tell me why you said it wasn’t safe for either of us, or I’m calling that ambulance now.”

      Joelle pressed her fingertips to her temples to calm the storm inside. “Because Owen is jealous of you. And he has a bad temper.” That was the truth, on both counts.

      “Yeah. He does.” And that’s all Dallas said for several heart-stopping moments. “If you’re so scared of him, then why are you marrying him? And don’t give me that nonsense about loving him.”

      “But I do love him,” she insisted. Of course, it was another Texas-size lie.

      Dallas made a skeptical sound in his throat and went to press the buttons on his phone. Joelle couldn’t let him make that call.

      “Don’t.” She grabbed his arm and put some steel in her voice. Well, as much steel as she could manage considering the drug haze was taking over her entire body.

      “When I look at you...” She had to pause and force her mouth to work. “Uh, I think of all those years it took me to get over you. I, um, feel the hurt...the anger.”

      “You feel all that, huh?” he growled.

      “All that.” Joelle hoped these words she was trying to say would make enough sense to get him to leave. “I feel disgusted with myself.” Another pause. “Disgusted that you wouldn’t give me a second chance.”

      “I don’t give second chances. Ever.”

      “Believe me, I know. You’re not capable of forgiveness. You’re a cold, hard man, Dallas Walker.”

      There. She’d gotten it all out. Yes, it stung to say that, but it was God’s honest truth, and maybe the truth would hurt him enough to get those cowboy boots moving toward the door.

      It didn’t.

      Mercy. Joelle had to take another verbal jab at him. She also had to take another breath before she continued. “I’ll bury the report that I’m supposed to give to the governor. Kirby is safe. Now, get the heck out of here.”

      That should have done it. Should have gotten Dallas moving to leave. But he just kept staring at her.

      Joelle cursed. The dizziness was getting worse, and she would probably lose consciousness soon.

      “I hate you,” she managed to say.

      And she wished that were true. Except at the moment she did hate him for not doing something he had to do—leave.

      “I will get to the bottom of this,” Dallas threatened. He huffed, and his expression softened. “But I need to call that ambulance so you can go to the hospital. If Owen has a hissy fit because I’m here, then I’ll protect you from him.”

      “You can’t.” But Joelle was instantly sorry she’d said that.

      There it was again. That flash in his lawman’s eyes. She was digging her own grave here.

      And his.

      Think.

      She had to do something to defuse this situation.

      If she could get into the adjoining bathroom, maybe she could crawl out the window and go to the front of the church where Owen would soon arrive. She could kiss him while Dallas watched. It would turn her stomach to do that, but it might be the very thing to convince Dallas to leave so that she could go through with the vows.

      Joelle shoved her elbows against the love seat so she could lever herself up. Not easily. But she managed to get to her feet by holding on to the armrest. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

      He stared at her. “I’ll go with you.”

      She huffed. “I have to go to the