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 don’t want Kirby left
alone. How long before the others get out here?”
“Twenty minutes maybe. The bottom part of Durham Road is
flooded so they’ll have to drive around.”
Another complication he didn’t need, but Dallas had no choice
but to end the call and wait. If there was someone armed out there, he wanted
backup.
“Maybe it’s my imagination,” Joelle whispered, “but I think I
smell smoke.”
Dallas lifted his head, sniffed. Yeah, there was a the faint
smell of smoke, but he thought it might be lingering from what had happened the
day before at Rocky Creek.
He looked out but didn’t see any signs of fire or smoke, and
even if there had been, the rain would have likely doused it. But the smell got
stronger, and Dallas finally saw something he didn’t want to see.
The wisps drifting up from beneath his truck.
“It’s smoke,” he confirmed.
Joelle automatically lifted her head to have a look, but he
pushed her right back down. Dallas mumbled some profanity and inched closer to
the side mirror so he could try to see what was going on. Still no flames, but
he was getting a bad sense of déjà vu. Maybe the person who’d orchestrated that
smoke at Rocky Creek had managed to do the same beneath his truck. Of course, it
could be a real fire, too.
Either way, he had to move Joelle.
He couldn’t wait twenty minutes for backup because they might
be dead by then.
Since that shadow was on his side of the truck, Dallas figured
they needed to go out Joelle’s side. He reached across her and slightly cracked
the door.
“I’ll go first,” he instructed, “and the second your feet hit
the ground, I want us away from the truck.”
She gave a shaky nod, and even though he could feel her fear,
there was nothing he could do to lessen it right now. “Run where?” she
asked.
There were several trees. Not good cover. But maybe they
wouldn’t need it. “Just stay next to me,” Dallas said.
He crawled over her and used his shoulder to fully open the
door. In the same motion, he caught her by the arm and helped her scramble from
the truck. Dallas had already told her to hit the ground running, but they’d
barely made it a step when a shot blasted through the air.
Joelle made a gasping sound, and both Dallas and she dived to
the ground. It was like landing in a massive mud puddle, and he had to roll to
the side and keep his gun lifted so that it wouldn’t get wet.
“I’m Marshal Walker,” he called out just in case this was a
stray hunter.
But no such luck.
Another shot came right away, cracking through the rain, and
this one slammed into the truck. Not the driver’s side where he’d last seen that
shadowy figure. No, this bullet tore into the back.
Dallas made a quick adjustment, slinging Joelle behind him so
that he’d be between the shooter and her. It wasn’t enough because from the
sound of the shots, their attacker was using a rifle. A high-powered bullet
could easily go through him and into Joelle.
Still, it was too risky to move.
Or maybe not.
The next shots weren’t single rounds but three bullets that
came back to back, and each of them smacked into the ground between the truck
and them.
The shooter was moving. Getting closer. And that meant Dallas
had to do something. He tried to pinpoint where he thought their attacker was,
then he levered himself up and fired. He wasn’t sure where his shot went, but it
hadn’t hit a person.
Joelle was shaking now. Probably a combination of the fear and
the fact she was lying in cold, muddy water. Dallas was cold, too, but he tried
to keep his hands steady, and he also tried to listen for the sound of any
footsteps or movement.
He finally saw something.
The shadowy figure was back. Someone wearing dark clothes and
moving from the side pasture and ducking into the trees that lined that part of
the fence.
Another shot came at them.
But this time Dallas saw the person lift the rifle. Not an
ordinary lift, either. Their attacker didn’t even aim. He blindly shot toward
them and kept moving. And he wasn’t moving in a direction that Dallas wanted him
to go.
The shooter was headed straight for the house.
Chapter Seventeen
Joelle felt every muscle in Dallas’s body tense, and he cursed. Even though he had her pressed against the soggy ground, Joelle managed to lift her head enough so she could try to see what had caused his reaction.
She saw the blurry figure, cloaked in the rain and carrying a rifle. But the person was no longer shooting at them but rather making a beeline for the ranch house.
Where Kirby was.
Oh, mercy.
Kirby was much too weak to fight off an attacker. Yes, Harlan was there as well, but the shooter might fire into the house before Harlan even realized what was happening.
Dallas dug his heels into the mud so he could get to his feet, but he remained in a crouching position. He fired at the figure. The blast jolted through her, making her nerves even more raw than they already were.
However, whoever it was must have been expecting Dallas to shoot because the person ducked out of sight behind one of the trees.
“I have to go to the house,” Dallas whispered. “And I have to take you with me.” It was definitely an apology.
One that she didn’t need.
Because Joelle was already getting to her feet, too. Whoever this shooter was, she couldn’t let Kirby become the target of an attack.
Dallas grabbed her wrist with his left hand and started leading her up the side of the road. The mud was so thick that her shoe got stuck in it, and she finally just stepped out of the heels and left them behind.
The rain spat at them, almost blinding them at times, and it didn’t help that it was still practically pitch-black. The farther they moved from the truck headlights, the worse it got.
Ahead, she could see the spot where the shooter had disappeared, but she saw no movement to indicate he or she was still there.
He. Or. She
.
She mentally repeated that. Because in the darkness, it had been impossible for her to tell if the shooter was male or female. It could be Lindsey or Sarah. Of course, it could also be Owen or Rudy. Whoever it was, the person clearly meant to do them or someone in the house harm.
She and Dallas seemed to be running at a snail’s pace, mostly because of her. Joelle just couldn’t keep up, and with every step she took, she landed in a deeper and deeper bog. It didn’t help that the mud was now caked on her feet and legs because that only slowed her down more.
She caught another glimpse of movement. The person came out from cover for just a second before ducking back behind another tree. Definitely moving toward the ranch house.
But what did he or she want?
If it was one of their suspects, none of them had a beef with Kirby or Harlan. Well, not that Joelle knew of, anyway. Unless...
“Owen could try to hurt Kirby to get back at us,” she blurted.
She hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but it was clear from Dallas’s reaction that he’d already considered it. Probably because Owen hadn’t hesitated to hurt Dallas with the baby’s birth certificate.
Dallas kept them moving, but so did the person ahead of them. Joelle figured they could catch up with this shooter, but they were nearing the point where catching up wouldn’t help if the person fired that rifle into the house.
Behind them, she saw the slash of lights, and for a moment, Joelle thought the lightning had returned. But this light wasn’t coming from the sky but rather the road, and it was the headlights of a vehicle. She prayed it was one of Dallas’s brothers, but she was scared to the bone that it was help coming for the person who’d shot at them. After all, their attacker had hired those gunmen in the woods and could have called them back in to finish the job.
“Keep watch behind us,” Dallas told her.
She did, allowing him to lead her along the edge of the road. “Can you still see the person with the rifle?”
“Yeah.” And since that was all Dallas said, she figured that meant the person was still heading for the house.
Joelle pinned her attention to the headlights, watching them bounce over the watery road. She was breathing through her mouth now, waiting, and she saw the vehicle when it turned onto the road that would soon—very soon—take them to where Dallas had left his truck.
The lights slashed right in her eyes, blinding her, and Dallas yanked her out of the way. He pulled her into some shrubs that fronted a few massive oaks. The oaks were too far away to use for cover, but maybe the shrubs would protect them enough if there were gunmen in that vehicle.
Joelle stumbled, one of the thorny shrubs clawing at her arm, and she had to hold on to Dallas to keep from falling. But somehow, he kept them moving.
Even over the slapping sound of the rain, she heard his phone buzz. Maybe it was one of his brothers letting him know they were the ones in that vehicle. Joelle reached for the phone to answer it, but then she heard another sound. Not buzzing. But footsteps, as if someone were running just to their left.
She turned in that direction just as someone grabbed her by the arm and jerked her violently toward them. If it hadn’t been for the mud and her bare feet, she might have been able to keep her balance. But the motion caught her off guard and she went flying in the direction of the person who’d grabbed her.
Dallas snapped toward her and raised his weapon, but it was too late.
Someone jammed a gun against Joelle’s back.
* * *
D
ALLAS
’
S
HEART
WENT
TO
HIS
knees.
Hell.
This was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid, and here he’d let it happen right next to him. He’d had his attention so focused on the rifle-toting person ahead of them that he hadn’t taken enough precautions to make sure the shooter was acting alone.
And now Dallas had proof that he wasn’t.
Before someone had grabbed Joelle, he’d gotten a glimpse of the rifleman, and there was no way the guy could have doubled back and gotten to them this quickly.
So who was the SOB who now had Joelle locked in a chokehold? Judging from the guy’s beefy arms, it wasn’t one of their suspects.
His phone stopped buzzing, which meant the call had probably gone to voice mail. He already had too much to deal with right in front of him, but he prayed that the call hadn’t been from Harlan to say that he and Kirby were under attack.
“You don’t want to do this,” Dallas tried. Yeah, it wasn’t much of a threat, but he took aim in the general direction of the guy’s head. The problem was that it was also in the direction of Joelle’s head.
Dallas didn’t have anything resembling a clean shot.
And that was just the first of his concerns. The guy was already dragging Joelle back, toward the trees, trying to take her God knows where. Plus there was a rifleman out there somewhere. And that vehicle. If his brothers weren’t in there, then he and Joelle were in big trouble.
Still, Dallas wasn’t just going to let this Neanderthal haul her away.
Even in the darkness he could see the fear all over Joelle’s face. This guy outsized her by a lot, and he was obviously much stronger than she was. He was moving her as if she were a rag doll.
Trying to keep watch and listen for signs that someone else was sneaking up on them to join this, well, whatever this was, Dallas inched after the man and Joelle.
“Let her go,” Dallas ordered. “If you want a hostage, then take me.”
“Admirable,” the man growled, “but I got my orders.” He was wearing a small communicator looped over his ear, and he said something into it that Dallas didn’t catch.
Probably talking to his boss.
Dallas intended to find out who that was and make the person and this lackey pay. Joelle had enough bad memories to last a lifetime without these jerks adding more.
“Dallas?” someone called out.
It was Clayton, and Dallas would have been relieved at hearing his brother’s voice if there hadn’t been another sound.
A gunshot.
“Stay down!” Dallas shouted to Clayton, and he prayed he wasn’t too late with that warning. “Someone with a rifle might be moving toward the house. Call Harlan if you can.”
Might
.
Dallas had to accept that the rifleman might have been a decoy. Someone to distract him so that someone else could go after Joelle.
And unfortunately that’s exactly what’d happened.
But what the devil did this person want with Joelle?
Maybe it was Lindsey or Owen hell-bent on revenge. That would make sense. Well, it would in the minds of criminals and lunatics. Of course, this could be connected to the investigation. Which meant any of their suspects could have orchestrated this.
The question was, why?
Dallas slung off the rain from his face and eyes. It didn’t help. More rain came, blurring his vision, and even though the sky was starting to lighten up, it was still hard for him to see much other than Joelle and those frightened eyes.
“What do you want from me?” Joelle managed to ask, despite the arm clamped around her throat.
The guy didn’t answer. He just continued to move backward, dragging Joelle right along with him.
Dallas hadn’t thought things could get much worse, but the man pushed aside one of the tree limbs and stepped back onto one of the many ranch trails that snaked through the property. Normally, there would have been nothing on this particular trail—it was used to move equipment in and out of the adjacent pasture.
But there was a truck parked there now.
Joelle’s eyes widened when she spotted the vehicle, and she frantically started shaking her head. She didn’t have to say it aloud, but Dallas knew if this man managed to get her into that truck, he would have a much better chance of escaping with her.
That couldn’t happen.
Dallas moved forward and tried to figure out the best way to stop this. He couldn’t lunge for Joelle because her captor had a gun aimed right at her. But obviously the guy hadn’t wanted her dead or she already would be. He would have shot her rather than grab her.
That took Dallas’s heart past his knees and to the ground. He couldn’t lose Joelle. Not again and not like this.
“Whatever you want from her,” Dallas bargained with the guy, “use me to get it instead. I’m sure Owen wants me dead anyway.”
The guy didn’t even react to that. He just kept backing up until he reached the truck.
Dallas waited, watched, because the man would have to reach behind him and open the door if he wanted to get Joelle inside the cab of the truck. For that to happen, he’d have to let go of the chokehold unless the moron was stupid enough to use his right hand, where he held the gun.
Either way, Dallas had to strike.
He readied himself to ram right into the guy, but Joelle’s kidnapper didn’t ease up on the chokehold and he darn sure didn’t lower the gun.
Behind him, the truck door opened.
And Dallas saw the person inside.
Not behind the wheel, either. After opening the door, the person hurried back across the seat to the passenger’s side where the darkness and the shadows were too murky for Dallas to make out any features. However, he could see the outline of a gun and it was pointed directly at him.
“You’ll get a call in a few minutes,” Joelle’s captor said to Dallas. “You’ll have a chance to save her if you do everything we say.”
There was no safe shot for Dallas to take. Nothing he could do that wouldn’t put Joelle in the direct line of fire. He could only watch as the man dragged her into the truck and slammed the door.