The Marshal's Hostage - By Delores Fossen Page 0,60

have hit a massive pothole or something, and the truck lurched forward so quickly that Joelle’s head hit the ceiling.

“What the hell now?” Dallas growled.

He brought his truck to a jarring stop and threw open the door so he could look out. He immediately snapped back toward her, grabbed onto her and shoved her down on the seat.

Joelle didn’t even have time to ask what was wrong before Dallas drew his gun.

* * *

DALLAS DIDN’T SEE ANYONE OUT there, but someone had to be. Someone with bad intentions, and he had the flat tires to prove it.

“What’s happening?” Joelle asked.

Dallas pushed her lower onto the seat, covering her as best he could with his body, and he tried to pick through the darkness and the rain to see if he could spot anyone.

He didn’t.

“Someone put a spike strip across the road,” he explained. “The kind that cops use to flatten the tires of someone trying to escape.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

Yeah. That was basically his reaction, too.

Dallas wanted to hope for the best and believe this was some kind of prank, but his luck wasn’t that good. Plus, coupled with Lindsey’s call that had ultimately gotten them out of the house, he figured things could get ugly fast.

But had Lindsey orchestrated this? Whatever this was? He wouldn’t put anything past the woman, not with her insane jealousy when it came to Owen. Of course, there were other immediate suspects who came to mind.

Rudy and Sarah.

Owen, too.

Because now that Dallas had time to think about it, Owen might not be shot. He might have been the one who put Lindsey up to doing this.

He reached in his pocket, grabbed his cell and handed it to Joelle. “Call Harlan and let him know someone just disabled my tires. Tell him what’s going on but that I don’t want him to come outside.” Because this might be some kind of an attempt to get to Kirby. “Have him phone Clayton or Declan so they can drive out here.”

It would take a while for either of them to arrive since they were both at the marshals’ office in town. Calling Slade and Wyatt wouldn’t speed things along, either, since both were out of the county on assignments.

Joelle made the call, and even though her voice was shaky, she gave Harlan the information.

“What now?” she asked, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

“We wait.”

It wasn’t the best of plans, sitting out on a ranch road in the dark. There were trees and fences. A lot of places for an attacker to hide. Still, the alternative was trying to get back to the house with his tires disabled. He could maybe do it, creeping along at a speed where anyone could catch them. But he didn’t want to risk leading someone dangerous back to the house where Kirby was.

Of course, he might not have a choice.

He didn’t want to put Joelle at further risk, either.

Because he was practically wrapped around Joelle, he could feel her tense muscles and knew she was scared. Over the past couple of days, she’d been put in too many positions like this, and he wanted to put an end to threats. Unfortunately, the only way to do that was to catch the person responsible.

Maybe the person who’d put down that strip to shred his tires.

The thought had no sooner crossed his mind when the movement caught his eye. At first he thought it was the motion of the wipers slashing across the windshield, but he had a closer look. Not the wipers.

There appeared to be someone ducked down behind the fence.

Even though the truck headlights were still on, they weren’t aimed in the right direction for him to confirm his theory, and he definitely wasn’t getting out and leaving Joelle alone. If Lindsey was behind this, it was exactly what she would want him to do so she’d stand a better chance of getting her hands on Joelle.

His phone buzzed, and Joelle took it out for him. “It’s Harlan,” she relayed in a whisper.

“Put it on speaker,” Dallas instructed. He wanted to keep his hands free in case someone out there had bad intentions.

“Don’t go to Owen’s,” Harlan immediately said. “I just got a call from the deputy who responded, and neither Lindsey nor Owen is there.”

Hell. Dallas was hoping they were not only there but that both had been either arrested or contained in some sort of way.

“You need help where you are?” Harlan asked.

“No.” Not yet, anyway. “Stay put. I