The Marshal's Hostage. Delores Fossen

But that wouldn’t stop her.

      Well, hopefully not.

      She let go of the armrest but immediately had to catch onto something or she would have fallen. Unfortunately, she caught onto Dallas.

      Joelle was suddenly engulfed in his strong arms. And against his chest. Her face landed right against his neck, and she drew in his scent with the breath that she fought to take. It was a scent she knew too well, one that triggered old thoughts and feelings that could never be triggered again.

      “Sorry,” she mumbled when her hand landed against the front of his jeans. She mumbled another apology when she realized her robe had fallen open and that his hand was now against the lacy side panel of her bra.

      Judging from the way his breathing changed, Dallas was battling some old triggers, too. Normally, that would have pleased her; after all, he’d crushed her heart all those years ago. Tormenting him was something she’d fantasized about doing.

      But there was nothing gratifying about this situation.

      Besides, she’d crushed his heart, too.

      Joelle pushed herself away from him and slapped her hand on the wall. She used it for support so she could make her way to the bathroom. Thankfully, the door was already ajar because just seconds before Dallas had arrived, Joelle had been using the mirror to touch up her hair and makeup. Something she would have to do again.

      She still had to go through with those vows.

      Each step was a major effort, but Joelle finally made it inside the tiny bathroom. She used her elbow to shut the door. Managed, somehow, to lock it. And then made as much of a beeline as possible toward the window.

      The dizziness was getting worse, maybe because she was moving, but Joelle tried to fight her way through it. Then she tripped over the bunched up rug and landed with a thud against the windowsill.

      “Joelle?” Dallas called out. He knocked on the door. “You okay?”

      “Fine,” she lied.

      She anchored her body against the wall, lifted the window and pushed out the screen. It would be a tight fit, but there was no other option. She climbed onto the toilet seat to lever herself up.

      “Joelle!” Dallas shouted again. “To hell with modesty. Open up so I can see you.”

      “In a second. I’m almost done.”

      Joelle got her arm through the window and looked down at the ground. Not a long drop, but she doubted she’d land on her feet. She got the other arm on the sill.

      Just as there was a loud cracking sound behind her.

      She looked over her shoulder to see that Dallas had kicked down the door. He had his gun drawn, and his gaze fired around the tiny room. He cursed and reholstered his gun when he saw that she was alone.

      “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

      But he didn’t wait for an answer. He hurried to her, hauled her onto his shoulder caveman style and carried her back into the dressing room.

      That’s when she saw the dark green Range Rover squeal to a stop in front of the church.

      Owen.

      Joelle struggled to get out of Dallas’s grip, but he held on and turned to see what had captured her attention. Owen, dressed in a tux, stepped from the vehicle and walked toward the men who worked for him. She had only seconds now to diffuse this mess.

      She watched as Owen spoke to his employees. The bald one pointed to the window, but she hoped Dallas and she were too far away for Owen to see them.

      “I have to talk to him,” she insisted.

      “No. You don’t,” Dallas disagreed.

      Joelle groaned because that was the pigheaded tone she’d encountered too many times to count.

      “I’ll be the one to talk to Owen,” Dallas informed her. “I want to find out what’s going on.”

      Joelle managed to slide out of his grip and put her feet on the floor. She latched on to his arm to stop him from going to the door. “You can’t. You have no idea how bad things can get if you do that.”

      He stopped, and stared at her. “Does all of this have something to do with your report to the governor?”

      She blinked, but Joelle tried to let that be her only reaction. “No.”

      More staring. Before Dallas glanced out the window. Owen had finished talking to his men and turned toward the church steps. She was down to mere seconds now. Not much time to get Dallas out of there.

      “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Dallas demanded.

      “I can’t. It’s too dangerous.” Joelle was ready to start begging him to leave. But she didn’t have time to speak.

      Dallas hooked his arm around her, lifted her and tossed her back over his shoulder.

      “What are you doing?” Joelle tried to get away, tried to get back on her feet, but he held on tight.

      Dallas threw open the dressing room door and started down the hall with her. “I’m kidnapping you.”

      Chapter Three

      There was a split second of time where Dallas thought about what he was doing. And what he was doing was a crime.

      A felony, no less.

      He didn’t consider himself a lawbreaker, but he had stretched and bent it a few times to get justice. And for that split second he wondered if there was a different way to go about this. He didn’t want to call his foster brothers and involve them, but he did consider calling the locals. He knew the sheriff was a fair man.

      But this wasn’t exactly a fair situation.

      No. He couldn’t involve the locals because there wasn’t enough time to get them out to the church to stop this. Plus, Dallas had to stay with Joelle, to convince her not to release that report. If given the chance, Owen would just whisk her away, and Dallas figured Owen—and apparently Joelle, too—would do anything and everything to prevent him from seeing her in the near future. The report would be released, and Kirby would be arrested.

      That was a solid enough reason to get her away from Owen, but then he heard Owen’s footsteps in the church entry and listened to Joelle’s slurred, drugged protests to let her go.

      And Dallas had no choice.

      It wasn’t safe for her to be here. It wasn’t safe for him to involve law enforcement. And that meant he had to get out of there fast.

      Dallas didn’t know what was going on, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t get the answers from Owen. He had a long, bad history with the man he’d once shared a room with at the orphanage, and that history wouldn’t get better. In fact, it was about to come to a hot boil if he learned that Owen was the one who’d drugged Joelle.

      Yeah.

      He would bend the law to get back at Owen for doing that.

      Dallas passed by the room where the two wedding attendants were hovering. They were no doubt aware that something bad was in the air, but they didn’t run out to try to rescue Joelle.

      Later, he’d want to know why.

      For now, he had enough questions and very little time to get Joelle out of there so he could get some answers. Answers that didn’t involve lies about loving Owen and a feigned pregnancy.

      “Where you takin’ me?” Joelle asked. The slurring was getting worse, and when she hit her fists against his back, they landed like limp thuds.

      Dallas made his way through the back corridors that had been built as additions to the old Victorian church. He knew the way because he’d used the halls to find