Two

LET’S GET THE HELL OUT OF DODGE

SIENNA’S PAINED EXPRESSION HAUNTED BO like a ghost wandering Bonaventure Cemetery at midnight. He needed to find her, to explain he’d spoken out of anger and frustration. That he’d lashed out at her for reasons he couldn’t explain.

After searching up and down River Street, he’d stopped by the Armstrong sisters’ resale shop, Frock You, to see if she’d headed there with the other Wallflowers. Calla’s aunts had informed him they’d seen all three women leave in Sienna’s car.

Now what?

“I should let it be,” he grumbled as he headed to his truck, well aware he wouldn’t. Not after the way her dark pools had brightened with tears. Since he’d met Sienna, she’d been argumentative, stubborn, and steadfast in her convictions. Never sad. He didn’t like that he was the one to put that look on her face.

Folding his six-foot-four-inch frame into his truck, Bo made the decision to head to his office, where he could access Sienna’s personal information. He’d find out where she lived and head there to apologize. Then maybe the weight in his chest would ease. The last time he remembered feeling this way, he was a boy whose mother had just abandoned him, and it wasn’t lost on him that a woman who reminded him of her was now the object of his self-inflicted torture.

Traveling south on Bay Street, Bo was about to turn west toward his station when a silver car passed in the opposite direction at a high rate of speed. Grumbling under his breath, he switched on his siren then waited until traffic cleared before executing a U-turn.

Weaving in and out of traffic, he caught sight of the car turning onto the River Street entrance he’d exited minutes before, bouncing off the curb as it sped down the ramp.

Just what he needed. Drunk tourists.

Punching his accelerator, Bo followed them down the ramp that led to the back alley and parking for the historic buildings on the river’s edge. As he made the turn, searching for the silver car, movement caught his eye. It was Sienna and her friends. They were rushing through the gate that backed to Calla’s building. He also saw the silver four-door parked at an angle next to the fence. It was empty, and the rear end was damaged.

Suspicion reared its head, so he parked behind the car to keep it from leaving, then peeled out of his truck, his eyes glued to the spot the Wallflowers had rushed through a few moments before.

Ripping open the gate, Bo found the three women huddled together in the back garden of Calla’s building. He’d been there twice in the last week, and it still amazed him how her aunts had created an oasis from the world in the back alley of the two-hundred-year-old building. Flowers of every color bordered the fence, while a Pergola and water feature drew your attention to the center. Wisteria vines covered the structure, their scent blocking out the fumes of passing cars as they wound their way down to street level. In Bo’s estimation, it was a thousand square feet of pure fucking paradise.

Calla saw him first as she fumbled with her phone, and elbowed Poppy. Poppy looked up, saw him, and then nudged the object of his frustration with her shoulder, pointing in his direction. Sienna turned her head and froze. He expected her reaction to be aloof after his harsh comments. It was anything but.

Before he could ask, “What the fuck is goin’ on?” Sienna started moving toward him. Her long blond hair shimmered in the afternoon sun like spun gold, partially hiding her face. But not enough that he couldn’t still see tears running down her cheeks.

That’s when he went on full alert.

“Talk to me,” he bit out as Sienna approached, but she didn’t say a word. Instead, she kept moving until her head banged into his chest and she’d grabbed a handful of his shirt. The heat from her body bled through his clothes, and he folded his arms around her without a second thought, tightening his hold as her body began to tremble. It was as natural to him to comfort this woman as it was to breathe, and he stored that information away to think about later. Right now, he had a puzzle to solve.

“Hey?” he mumbled low, leaning down so he could whisper in her ear. “Talk to me.”

“You need to arrest me,” she sobbed.

His brows pulled together in confusion, and he looked to Calla and Poppy for clarification. Their heads were bowed, their eyes averted. Not a good sign.

“Why do I need to arrest you, honey?”

She hiccupped, buried her face deeper into his chest, then cried out, “Because I killed a man.”

Bo stiffened at her answer but didn’t let go of her. “You wanna say that again?”

Pulling her face out of his chest, Sienna wiped her tears away with the backs of her hands, then tried again. “I killed a man,” she answered on a broken breath. “A robber.”

“You killed a robber?” he questioned.

“With a Yeti.”

He blinked.

“With a what?”

“With a Yeti. A metal cup.”

The sweet smell of liquor filled the space between them as she tried to explain her weapon of choice, and he sighed.

She’d been drinking and was confused.

“You’ve been drinkin’,” he stated.

“I know. Does that mean I’ll get more jail time, since I’m under the influence?”

“You didn’t kill anyone,” he explained. “You’re imaginin’ it.”

She shook her head. “Yeah, I did. I threw a Yeti out the window after he chased us down the street, and it hit his windshield. He crashed his truck because he couldn’t see. He’s dead. I just know it.”

Bo looked over her shoulder and saw the other Wallflowers nodding in agreement. Something had happened, that much was certain. The question was, what?

Releasing Sienna, he grabbed her hand, pulled her toward Calla and Poppy, then pointed at lawn chairs, ordering them all to, “Sit.”

All three obeyed immediately, and he thanked God for small miracles.

“You,” he bit out, pointing at Calla. “Explain.”

“After the scene on the, uh, sidewalk,” Calla’s eyes darted to Sienna then down to the ground. “Well, we stopped at a bar for drinks.”

“So you were assaulted inside the bar?”

She shook her head. “When we left in Sienna’s car, a man stepped out in front of us with a gun.”

“Is that when he chased you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, we got away first then doubled back behind the buildin’ to hide until he was gone.”

“That was brilliant by the way,” Sienna interjected. “Too bad it didn’t work.”

“Totally brilliant,” Poppy added. “I never would have thought—”

Bo’s jaw began to twitch from holding his temper in. “For Christ’s sake,” he barked, interrupting, pinching the bridge of his nose for patience, “finish the story.”

“Right. Sorry. Well, we were waitin’ to make sure he was gone before leavin’, but he found us.”

“And that’s when Sienna threw the Yeti?”

“No, he slammed into the back of Sienna’s car first, so I took off. That’s when he gave chase. Then Sienna rolled down her window like she said and threw a thirty-two-ounce Yeti full of Coke at him. It shattered his window, and he crashed into a light pole. We didn’t stop when he crashed, considerin’ he had a gun, and came straight here. I was about to call Devin when you found us.”

Bo could feel his blood pressure rising, so he counted to ten before he spoke. “Let me get this straight,” he asked through clenched teeth as an image of Sienna hanging out the window of a speeding car made his blood run cold. “You were confronted by an armed robber, and instead of handin’ over your cash, you tried to evade him. Then he found you while you were hidin’ in your car, instead of inside the bar where it was safe, and you proceeded to try and outrun him. Then, while drivin’ erratically, puttin’ the public in danger, Sienna risked her life by hangin’ out the window to throw a metal cup at an armed man? Is that what you’re tellin’ me?”

All three Wallflowers grimaced.

“It really didn’t seem that stupid at the time,” Poppy tried to argue, and Bo saw red.

These women had no fear. Not a lick of sense.

“Oh, boy, his eye is twitchin’,” Sienna mumbled. “That means he’s about to blow.”

“Enough,” Bo growled—shooting Sienna a look that dared her to say another word—then pulled out his phone. “Devin should have his head examined for gettin’ himself tied up with a woman like the three of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Calla gasped.

“It means none of you have the sense that God gave you. You’ll all end up dead if you don’t learn self-preservation, for Christ’s sake,” Bo shouted. “Now, give me the location of the wreck before I lock all of you up for leavin’ the scene of an accident.”

“Liberty and Habersham,” she squeaked out, bugging her eyes out at her friends.

At least one of them had sense enough not to push him.

“No one leaves this location,” he ordered, leveling each woman with a hard stare, then he started moving toward the back gate. “I’ll be back once I know what the fuck is goin’ on.”

“Should I call Devin?” Calla called out.

Bo looked back at her and shook his head. “I’ll do it. If you spout off the shit you just told me, he’ll lose his mind. I don’t need Hawthorne goin’ cowboy on this guy if he lived through the accident.”

She nodded, then Bo’s eyes landed on Sienna before leaving. She still looked shaken by their encounter, and his protective instincts kicked in for the second time that day. She may not be his woman, but the need to keep her safe hummed through his body like a battle cry. He needed to find this guy quickly. No armed robber he’d ever arrested would keep searching for a target unless they wanted something else, or worse. In his estimation, all of the Wallflowers were in danger until he found the man who dared to raise a gun on them.

On Sienna.

 

 

Devin rode up on his hog as the fire department put out the last of the flames. Bo watched him carefully as he approached. The set line of Devin’s jaw told him all he needed to know. If the man hadn’t already perished in the fire, Devin would have been on the war path.

“Lay it out for me again,” Devin bit out as he turned his eyes on the smoldering wreckage. “I need to know if this is related to Calla’s grandfather.”

Bo jerked his head for Devin to follow so they weren’t overheard by the forming crowd. Once they were a good distance away, Bo laid it out like he asked.

“According to Calla, this guy tried to rob them at gunpoint. They got away, and a chase ensued. Sienna threw a Yeti at the truck while he was in pursuit, and it shattered his window. He hit that pole,” he explained, nodding toward the wooden light pole that had split at the base and was currently lying across the hood of the truck, “and it burst into flames.”

“Witnesses?” Devin asked, scanning the street.

“None. No one saw Sienna throw the Yeti. No one saw the crash. The explosion’s what alerted nearby residents.”

“You know,” Devin stated, holding his eyes.

Bo took a deep breath and looked at the smoldering wreckage. “Yeah, I know. And I’m keepin’ it that way.”

Devin’s brows shot to his hairline. “You’re not reportin’ what you know?”

Bo’s teeth ground together. He was by the book. Followed the letter of the law. Always. Until today. “It serves no purpose. Calla and her friends were the victims, not this guy.”

Devin grinned slowly. “You know the first time’s the hardest.”

“The first time?” Bo questioned.

“The first time you look the other way instead of reportin’ what you know. It’ll get easier.”

Bo’s teeth continued to grind. “I don’t plan on makin’ a habit of—” Lieutenant Turner, with the Savannah Fire Department, waved at Bo, interrupting him. “They’ve got somethin’.”

Pushing through the crowd, Bo and Devin made their way over to Turner and Jose Dejesus, the beat cop who’d responded to the accident.

“Truck’s empty,” Turner announced without prelude.

Bo swung around and scanned the crowd. “He’s still on the loose. We need to find this guy. Have you run the VIN?”

“Just did,” Turner responded. “It was reported as stolen a week ago.”

“Dust for prints,” Devin ordered.

“For a stolen vehicle?” Dejesus asked, but Bo ignored him. He swung back and looked at the truck. The driver’s side door was closed, but the passenger side door was open. He’d assumed SFD had opened it, but he was now convinced it was how the perp escaped the wreck. “Passenger side door. Dust the door handle. It’s how he got out.”

“Why the full-court press for a stolen vehicle?” Dejesus questioned.

Bo stepped in closer to make sure he got his point across. He wasn’t taking any chances this guy got away and went after Sienna or the other Wallflowers. “Because,” he growled, “this truck matches the description of one of my cold cases, so tell Vargas to find me a print and that I needed it yesterday.”

Dejesus swallowed hard and nodded, then turned and headed back to the crime scene investigators who were waiting to clear the area.

Devin watched the cop retreat with his tail between his legs, then turned to Bo, smiling as he pulled out his phone to call Calla. “Like I said, it gets easier each time.”

Bo turned slowly and scowled at his friend, hissing, “Bite me, ‘Dashing Detective,’” referring to the YouTube video of them both taking down Fang Yoo, a huge Asian woman.

Devin’s smile pulled wider across his face, and then he threw his head back and laughed.

 

 

“All right. Someone needs to tell me what’s goin’ on,” Bernice Armstrong, Cali’s colorful yet lovable aunt demanded. “Bo Strawn was here lookin’ for you not an hour ago, and now you all look like jackrabbits in a den of wolves.”

I turned my head and looked at Bernice. She was dressed in acid-washed jeans, popular with her generation in the 1980s, and a Pink Floyd T-shirt. She had stitches near her hairline—courtesy of the butt of a gun Gayla Brown had used when she kidnapped Cali—that stood out in sharp contrast to her peaches-and-cream complexion.

Cali referred to her aunts as from the Madonna generation, and she wasn’t wrong. Any day now I expected them to stroll out wearing rubber bracelets, Madonna’s trademark hair bow, and a belt that said ‘Boy Toy.’

“Nothin’ we can’t handle,” Cali answered.

“I didn’t ask if you could handle it or not. You’re an Armstrong, sugar, that goes without sayin’. What I asked is, what the heck is goin’ on?”

“Hold on a minute,” Poppy jumped in. “You said Bo Strawn was here an hour ago lookin’ for us?”

“That’s what I said.”

Poppy looked at me and smiled. “Did he say why he was lookin’ for us?”

I threw my head back and banged it against the chair. “Let it go, Poppy. You heard what he said on the sidewalk, not to mention, the bit about how a man would have to be a glutton for punishment to tangle himself with the likes of us. He’s a jerk, and I want nothin’ to do with him,” I lied.

“Maybe he’s bein’ a jerk ‘cause he’s fightin’ his feelin’s for you. Maybe he’s all bluster and deep down he doesn’t mean it. And just maybe he enjoys a little punishment,” she suggested, wiggling her eyebrows, referring to my slip about wanting to be tied up by Bo.

I groaned. Me and my big mouth. I just had to open my big mouth about Bo.

“When pigs fly,” Bernice chuckled. “That’s a man’s man if I ever saw one. He hands out punishment, not the other way around.”

I banged my head against the back of the chair again to erase the image of Bo handing out punishment of any kind. It didn’t work. My ass tingled as if it had been struck by a very large, warm hand.

“What’s wrong with her?” Bernice asked.

“I need a vacation,” I whined.

“She needs a man,” Cali chuckled.

I raised my head. “Men are the least of my worries right now.”

“This is true,” Poppy answered. “You’d look horrible in prison orange. It’ll make you look sallow.”

“Sallow? Really, Poppy?”

“Just tryin’ to lighten the mood,” she smiled.

“She’s not goin’ to prison. It was self-defense,” Cali added.

“Now we’re gettin’ somewhere,” Bernice said, pulling up a chair. “Tell Bernie all about it. What did you do that Bo Strawn is lookin’ for you?”

I looked at Cali. “Why does she seem giddy at the prospect of my incarceration?”

Cali shrugged, flicking her hands out in ‘who knows’ gesture. “I stopped tryin’ to figure out my aunts years ago.”

“Enough stallin’,” Bernice sighed. “I knew when I saw you three sittin’ out back that trouble was a brewin’. When the three of you get together, you’re like a magnet for it. So, spill. What did you do?”

Oh, what the hell. She’d find out soon enough when Bo came back and slapped the cuffs on me.

“I killed a man with a Yeti.”

Bernice opened her mouth, then closed it. “Say again? I think I need a hearin’ aid ‘cause I could have sworn you said you killed a man with Bigfoot.”

“A man tried to rob us at gunpoint. While pursuin’ us, Sienna threw a Yeti tumbler out the window, and it smashed in his windshield, causin’ the man to crash. She thinks he’s dead, therefore she killed him and must face the consequences,” Poppy enlightened.

Bernice stood without a word and turned, heading for the back door of Frock You.

“Where are you goin’?” Cali called out.

Bernice turned back and looked at us. “A story like that requires refreshments. Midnight Mojitos comin’ right up.”

“Your aunts are nuts,” I chuckled.

“You have no idea.”

Cali’s phone began to ring. I sat up and looked at it as if it held my fate in its tiny electronic hands. “It’s Devin,” she gasped, swiping ‘Answer.’

My heart began to race, and I forgot to breathe as I watched Cali for any signs that prison might be in my immediate future.

“Then he got away?” she cried out. “He didn’t die in the crash?”

Her eyes shot to mine as she listened to whatever Devin said. When she relaxed and smiled at me, I took my first breath.

Thank you, thank you, God.

“Okay, I’ll tell the girls,” she finally said, then her face grew softer, and she ended the call with a whispered, “Love you, too.”

“Well?” I asked.

“Devin says no one saw the crash or us. The truck exploded and burnt to a crisp, but he wasn’t inside. You’re in the clear. We all are!”

I sunk back in relief. “What a way to start a vacation. First, you get kidnapped, then this.”

“Yep,” Poppy said. “A trip to Atlanta will seem pale in comparison.”

“Then do somethin’ you’d never do in a million years,” Cali stated. “What did you dream about when you were a little girl? Climbin’ a mountain or maybe tourin’ France?”

Poppy cocked her head, then chuckled. “I dreamt about slayin’ Orcs.”

“As in Lord of the Rings?” Cali questioned.

She nodded.

I snorted. “I think we slayed one today.”

“True,” she chuckled. “So what was your dream as a girl?”

“That’s easy. Before I discovered romance novels, I was obsessed with the adventures of Laura Ingalls Wilder. I wanted to be Laura.”

Poppy perked up. “I read those books. But the romance between Laura and Almanzo held my attention the most.”

“So you wanted to live in the wild frontier?” Cali asked.

I thought about that for a moment. “I suppose. The long skirts and bonnets fascinated me. And the strappin’ men who were real men instead of these snivelin’ idiots who live at home with their mothers till they’re thirty definitely held my appeal. They were manly, like Laura said.”

“Sounds like someone else we know. A certain lawman with attitude?” Poppy threw out.

I looked at her and rolled my eyes. “You’re like a dog with a bone.”

“I can’t help it. Sienna, he’s perfect for you, and you’re bein’ stubborn if you don’t pursue it.”

I looked at Cali. “Help me out here? You heard him, why can’t she get it through her thick skull that the man isn’t interested in me?”

“No talkin’,” Bernice shouted as she exited the building carrying a tray full of glasses and a pitcher of mojitos. “I don’t want to miss anything, so hold all discussion.”

Once she’d deposited the tray on the table, she took her seat and began to pour, saying, “Continue,” as she handed me a glass.

“I’m in the clear,” I told her, shrugging. “Grumpy Gus didn’t die.”

She paused her pouring, looking crestfallen. “I wasn’t gone that long. How’d you manage that?”

“Devin called and said he got out of the truck alive. That’s all we know.”

“Now we’re tryin’ to decide how to spend our vacation,” Poppy said.

Bernice looked between Poppy and me. “You sure you should travel? The way things are goin’, you could end up kidnapped and on a slow boat to China, or wherever it is they take sex slaves these days.”

“Wait a minute,” Cali called out, “I have it. Bernie, do your friends still have that dude ranch?”

“Dude ranch?” I questioned.

“Yeah, you said you were obsessed with Little House on the Prairie, which made me think cowboy, which made me think horses, which made me think hunky cowboys herdin’ cattle, and then it hit me that Bernice has these friends who own a dude ranch. It’s actually a workin’ ranch, but they rent out cabins and have all sorts of fun stuff. Horseback ridin’. A pack trip with a covered wagon, complete with trail cook and cattle wranglin’.”

“You’d love Boris and Natasha Winkle,” Bernice interjected.

“Your friends’ names are Boris and Natasha?” I asked. “Like in The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show?”

“Yep. And they’re a hoot, too. I can call in a favor if they’re full. But they normally have plenty of room seein’ as it’s a workin’ ranch and most don’t see feedin’ chickens and milkin’ cows as a vacation.”

I looked at Poppy and shrugged. “It’s definitely different.”

She mulled it over for a moment, then nodded. “I haven’t been on a horse in years, but I’m game if you are. Maybe we could learn to lasso; it might come in handy the way our luck is runnin’.”

“Then we’re decided?” I asked.

Poppy beamed. “Let’s get the hell out of Dodge and wrangle some cattle.”

“No bigger than you both are it’s more likely the cattle will wrangle you,” Bernice chuckled, pulling out her cell phone. “I’ll call Natasha and set you up.”

Excitement bubbled in my chest. Horseback riding, campfires, and maybe a few manly cowboys might take my mind off the past few hours, and Bo Strawn if I was lucky.

The back gate ripped open, startling me, and I turned to watch Bo storm through followed by Devin. One look told me no amount of manly cowboys would temper my attraction any time soon. He was, in my opinion, almost the ideal man. Tall, strong, protective, and sinfully gorgeous. It was his jerk status at the moment that kept him from being perfect.

His gray eyes landed on mine for a moment as he approached. He looked ready to kill, which upped his hotness factor a thousand percent, and I wanted to bang my head against a wall until I got over this stupid attraction.

I looked away before he could read my thoughts. There was so much intelligence working behind those eyes, I felt sure if I looked at him too long, he’d see right through me, would know what I was thinking.

“We need a description of this guy,” Bo stated as he walked up.

Devin moved to Cali and hauled her into his arms, hugging her before curling her into his side. “We’ll talk about your Jeff Gordon impersonation later.”

Cali beamed at Devin. “I could give Jeff a run for his money.”

Devin looked incredulous. “Jesus. I thought fearless was cute until today.”

“You love me,” she whispered back, and his face softened.

“I must if I put up with your antics,” he mumbled softly then brushed a kiss across her lips.

I turned away from them. I wanted that type of connection with someone.

Bo sat down across from me and pulled out a notepad, breaking me from my thoughts. Then he looked up at me. Our eyes caught and held long enough for my heart to pick up its pace. Then he scanned my face, taking my measure. “You better?” he asked softly. So softly it almost seemed as if he cared.

Remember he’s a jerk.

I nodded my response.

He scanned my body for some reason, and I swear it felt like he was undressing me, so when his eyes made their way back to mine, I raised a brow.

“Were you hurt durin’ the altercation?” His voice had grown deeper as he spoke. The resonances curled around me, increasing my heart rate with each word like a slow seduction, so I cleared my throat and shook my head. There was no way I could have answered in that moment. He would have heard how aroused I was.

Bo scowled at my non-answer.

“Cat got your tongue?”

I shook my head.

“So you can talk.”

I nodded.

He narrowed his eyes, so I narrowed mine back. “All right, describe this guy for me.”

I looked at Cali and Poppy and caught them looking between the two us, grinning like loons.

“Um, medium to tall height, brown hair. He was wearin’ sunglasses and a bandana, so I couldn’t see his face.”

“He was wearin’ black jeans, a black hoodie, and a leather vest,” Poppy added. “Who wears black in Savannah after February first?”

“Did you see him in the bar?”

“He may have been inside, but I don’t remember seein’ him,” Cali remarked.

“Name of the bar?”

Oh. Dear. Lord.

I cleared my throat and said on a quick exhale, “The Tap Room.”

Bo stopped writing and looked up. “You went to a biker bar?”

I looked at the girls and bugged out my eyes. “We were in the mood for a game of pool.”

“We’ll be havin’ a discussion about biker bars as well,” Devin grumbled.

I snorted at Devin, and Bo’s attention shot to mine. “Do you frequent biker bars regularly?” he growled.

The judgment in his voice piqued my temper. I’d only been in that bar because of him. “Only when it’s made clear that I’m a thorn in someone’s side, and they rue the day they ever met me.”

Bo jerked slightly, then took a long, slow, deep breath. He looked, for lack of a better word, like he felt guilty. “About that,” he muttered.

I raised my hand to stop him. “Don’t. The truth comes out when people are mad, so don’t get all ‘I didn’t mean it.’ You did. I’m way over it,” I lied, “so move on to your next question.”

His jaw tightened, so I looked away. It wasn’t my job to ease his conscience. If he was regretting what he said, he could stew on it for a while.

Bo stood abruptly and closed his notepad, shoving it into his back pocket. I ignored him and assumed an air of ‘not giving a shit,’ because the more I thought about it, the more I believed it was his fault we were held at gunpoint to begin with. If he’d been a nice guy instead of a jerk, I wouldn’t have stopped at the damn bar.

“I’ll let you know when we find him,” Bo bit out and turned to leave.

“You do that,” I mumbled under my breath.

I kept my eyes off his retreating backside as he and Devin left. It was past time to get him out of my system, and watching his muscled body as he marched across the courtyard wouldn’t help. Bo filled out his Wranglers like they’d been custom made for him alone.

“If you two weren’t goin’ out of town tomorrow, I’d give it two days max before you and that man are rippin’ each other’s clothes off,” Bernice chuckled.

“What?”

“Butterbean, you’re as clueless as Calla Lily was. That man wants you; he’s just fightin’ it.”

Cali and Poppy both nodded.

“The sexual tension was off the charts,” Poppy added.

“You’re all nuts. Certifiable. The only thing that man wants from me is for me to live in a different zip code.”

“That’s the ticket,” Bernice replied. “Make him come after you. A gentleman should always do the pursuin’.”

God, help me. She thinks she’s Dear Abby.

“The only way Bo Strawn would pursue me is if handcuffs were involved.”

“He’s got a kinky side, does he?” Bernice asked.

I opened my mouth and then closed it. Then I banged my head on the chair again.

Nope. Didn’t help.

Why me?

“Poppy, let’s hit the road and pack. I need a distraction from my life.”

Bernice jumped up from her chair. “I’ll print off the directions before you go.”

“What’s the name of this place?” I asked.

Bernice cocked her head and smiled. “Why, Bullwinkle Ranch, of course.”

Perfect. My life was a comedy show, why not graduate to cartoons?

 

 

Bo placed his gun on his kitchen counter, then headed for a beer. It was after midnight, and he was still waiting to hear back on the smudged print they’d pulled off the passenger side door of the burnt-out truck. They’d found no other evidence to point them in the right direction. If the print didn’t ping back to his perp, he’d have no leads and a ton of unanswered questions.

Pulling an ice-cold beer from the refrigerator, he popped off the top and took a long draw. Then he looked around his quiet apartment, and his mind wandered. Despite being surrounded by his carefully structured life, he couldn’t keep his thoughts off the one aspect of it that didn’t fit.

His attraction to Sienna Miller.

She’d gotten under his skin. Buried herself there, and he couldn’t get her out. And now with the threat to her and the other Wallflowers, he was tweaked, felt off-balance. He wanted to lash out at something.

Bo thought back to that afternoon. He’d hurt Sienna, that was apparent. Her interaction with him had been guarded when he’d returned with Devin, and he hated it. Hated that he’d been the one who caused her to turn cautious with him. If he could take it back, he would have done so.

Closing his eyes against the memory, Bo’s thoughts wandered to the moment she’d buried her face in his chest, as if she thought he was the only man who could help her. He tried to ignore the way she’d felt pressed close, but it was no use. The heat from her body had seared a memory into his.

Rolling his head from side to side to work out the kinks, Bo lifted the bottle to his mouth for another long pull. The sound of a clock ticking in his apartment amplified how quiet his life was when he wasn’t on the job. He told himself for the hundredth time it’s how he wanted it. How he’d organized it after a childhood full of chaos, but what had once been a necessity to block out the pain, locking it behind bars like an unwanted criminal, now seemed like a self-imposed prison. He looked around his apartment and noted how sterile it was. There were no pictures from his twenty-eight years of life, no clutter to distract him. Only organized boredom. His life was gray.

Clenching and unclenching his fist, Bo looked down at his beer then turned and threw it at his fireplace in a fit of rage. The bottle shattered, splattering beer and glass on the polished hardwood.

He stared at the destruction peppering his carefully planned world, then looked at the clock. Moments passed as the second hand ticked by, a metaphor, he thought, for his life. Looking back at the shards of glass, Bo realized it, too, was a symbol for his childhood, but it was also a sign of things to come if he didn’t move forward.

He had a decision to make.

He could live in the past, holding his mother’s actions against a woman he craved more than air, or he could pull his head out of his ass and move forward before another man saw what he did. Sienna was the sun in his gray world.

“Fuck it,” he growled, heading for the door.

It was time to leave the past where it belonged. Dead and buried.

He made the drive to Sienna’s apartment in ten minutes, then parked and peeled out of his truck. He looked up at the darkened windows of her unit and knew she was asleep.

Bo didn’t hesitate to take the stairs two at a time to her landing. He was done fighting what he wanted. Done denying what he felt for the woman. He wanted her, and he knew she felt something for him. He’d seen it in her eyes on the beach. It was time to drop the subterfuge that he didn’t want to claim Sienna for his own. He’d played by the rules his whole life, and he had nothing to show for it but a lonely existence.

Rules don’t keep you warm at night. Rules didn’t fill a void that’s been empty since he was ten. He wanted Sienna more than he’d wanted anything in his life, except for his mother’s love, and when he wanted something, he normally went after it with both barrels blazing and hung on tight. Why he’d let his past stop him from grabbing hold of Sienna with both hands, he’d never know. Chalk it up to stupidity. But he was done being stupid. Tonight, he’d let Sienna know exactly where he stood, and that her days of searching for her white knight were over.

Raising his fist, Bo pounded on her door. He waited thirty seconds for her to wake up, then pounded again. When he heard no movement inside, he looked over the railing into the parking lot and saw her beat-up car. She was home but not answering. He smiled. His woman slept like the dead.

Pulling his lock pick tools from his back pocket, Bo went to work on her deadbolt. It wasn’t lost on him that he was pulling the same maneuver Devin had in his attempt to track down his Wallflower.

When the bolt finally gave, Bo turned the knob and entered. He was standing in a hallway, so he moved to the living room on quiet feet. Finding the light switch, he flipped it on and then blinked. He’d walked into an English garden of soft pastels and wicker furniture. The walls were painted a soft pink, like the color of her full lips. The wicker furniture was upholstered in shades of pink and purple floral print that was neither loud nor subtle. There were bookshelves lining two walls, jam-packed with paperback novels that looked as if she’d read them multiple times. But the structure that caught Bo’s eye the most was the large queen trusses supporting the open ceilings. Her building was an old Tannery that had been remodeled and converted into apartments years ago. The space, though small, was as appealing as the woman who lived in it.

Moving to the open bedroom door, Bo pushed it wider until the light from the living room filtered in and he could see inside. A king-size wrought iron bed with a snow-white quilt and matching shams took center stage in the room. It looked soft, inviting, like a man could crawl inside and sleep for years while he held his woman tight.

It was also empty.

“You better not be out speed datin’,” Bo growled, then pulled out his phone to call Devin.

When he swiped his phone awake, he noted he had a text message waiting for him and tapped it open, hoping it was the station with a match on the print. He wasn’t disappointed.

Print came back to a Larry Dwayne Daniels. He’s a prospect with the Serpents. Goes by Purge in the club.

Bo was beginning to think Wallflowers was the wrong name for this particular set of women. They were better suited for the name Calamity Janes. How in the hell did they get on the Serpents’ radar?

Swiping Devin’s number after reading the text, he waited impatiently for his friend to pick up. The call went to voicemail. He didn’t have time to waste, so he hit redial. In their line of work, Bo knew Devin wouldn’t ignore a second call from him at midnight, even if he was with his woman.

“This had better be good,” Devin growled.

“Ask Calla where Sienna is,” he growled back.

Devin sighed, aggravated, then muffled the phone. He came back a few moments later with laughter in his voice. “You’re not gonna believe this shit. Bernice has friends who run a dude ranch. Sienna and Poppy are headed up there for a week of ridin’ horses and milkin’ cows.”

“And huntin’ men. The ranch is full of hunky cowboys!” Calla called out loudly.

Bo narrowed his eyes. “You wanna repeat that?”

“You heard me. And Calla. The Wallflowers are spendin’ their vacation on a ranch.”

“Jesus. They’ll end up ridin’ off a cliff.”

A low rumble of laughter sounded over the phone.

“I told you earlier she needed to be locked up,” Bo chuckled.

“You also said you pity the man who takes her on.”

“That opinion hasn’t changed.”

“Are you sayin’ you’re not the man for the job?” Devin questioned. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“Oh, I’m the man for the job, but I have to find her first,” Bo bit out.

“Fuckin’ déjà vu,” Devin muttered. “I feel your pain.”

“Ask Calla the name of the ranch.”

Devin covered the phone again, then stated, “Calla said Bullwinkle Ranch. Like the cartoon.”

Bo saw a computer sitting on her nightstand, so he walked over and opened the lid.

“You gonna hunt her down?” Devin questioned as the screen came to life. It was password protected. Bo remembered what Calla had said about women using their birthdates for passwords, so he shoved the phone between his ear and shoulder and pulled out the slip of paper he’d written Sienna’s information on at the office.

“You still there?” Devin asked.

“Yeah, I’m tryin’ to Google the address of the ranch.”

“That answers my question at least. What about the print? Did you get a hit?”

“Yeah. Belongs to a biker by the name of Purge. I’ll have him picked up in the mornin’. In the meantime, keep an eye on Calla till he’s hauled in.”

“That’s a given,” Devin answered. “She’s in my sight at all times ‘til we figure out what the fuck he was after.”

Bo punched in Sienna’s birthday and smiled when the screen sputtered then logged in. Then he barked out “Christ,” when an image of a scantily dressed woman, handcuffed to a bed, appeared on the screen.

“You got somethin?” Devin asked.

“Yeah,” Bo bit back. “A mystery wrapped in an enigma tied up with leather and lace.”

“You’ve lost me,” Devin said.

“I gotta go,” Bo growled.

“You find what you were lookin’ for?”

“Yeah, and then some.”

Bo ended the call and scanned the website Sienna had logged into. She’d left the page open to an article titled “Are You A Submissive?”

“Jesus,” Bo said, then opened a tab and Googled Bullwinkle Ranch. Then he remembered what Calla had said about Sienna and Poppy huntin’ cowboys and grabbed his phone. He left a message for his captain on his voicemail.

“This is Strawn. You know that vacation you‘ve been yellin’ at me to take? I’m takin’ it now. I’ll be back in a week . . .”