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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 of trees and tipped his head to let Joelle know they were heading there next. Heck, if he had to, they’d just keep running and ducking behind the trees until they were all the way to the road.
“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.
