Wallflowers:Three of a Kind

by CP Smith

  “Ready?” Strawn asked.

  “Ready,” I lied.

  He punched play, and the tiny screen jumped to life.

  “You’ve said that every time we’ve met. I’m tired of waitin’ for you to get married,” Billy Ray Stutter replied casually.

  “Billy Ray,” I said.

  “We no wait aroun’. If you wan in, it has be now,” a woman said in broken English. She sounded Asian, but I couldn’t be certain since she wasn’t in the screen shot.

  “Who is that?”

  “My money’s on Fang Yoo,” Nate bit out.

  “I’ll have the money as soon as I convince Calla to marry me, I’ve told you this. Tell the buyers to give us a few more months,” Bobby Jones’ unmistakable voice rang out, and I closed my eyes and started shaking. “Oh my God, that’s Bobby.”

  “How much is she due to inherit?” Billy Ray asked.

  “Millions. The old man kept pushin’ me to marry her, so I went diggin’ to see why he was hell-bent on seein’ it happen. Turns out she inherited her father’s shares when he died, and Preston doesn’t want anyone he doesn’t deem worthy of his ‘family’ to get their hands on it.”

  I stepped forward and tried to grab the phone. “What’s he talkin’ about? My grandfather owns all the family’s shares of Armstrong Shippin’.”

  Strawn jerked the phone away and then paused the video. “You can’t touch it. It’s evidence.”

  Devin grabbed my arm and pulled me back, growling, “Finish it.”

  Strawn pressed Play again, and I held my breath, chanting in my head, please don’t incriminate my grandfather, please don’t incriminate my grandfather.

  “How many shares did she get?” Billy Ray asked.

  “Her great-grandfather was pissed at Preston, so, as a lesson, he left half his shares to her father and half to her grandfather.”

  “And the little bookworm doesn’t have a clue?”

  “Nope. Her father had a trust, leavin’ the care of his children to his sisters, but the management of his finances to his father. Preston kept it hidden from her and the aunts to keep them under his thumb.”

  “All right. But how does knowin’ that get you wed to her?”

  “I’ve got the grandfather on my side. I just have to convince her. If that doesn’t work, I’ll take the drastic measures all men take when negotiating with wealthy women.”

  “You’re gonna finesse your way into her panties and knock her up so she has to marry you?”

  “That’s the idea,” Bobby chuckled. “She’s got the looks, so it won’t be a hardship. But she’s distant, a bit of a cold fish if you get my meanin’, so I’m not expectin’ a hellcat in the sack.”

  “Video ends here,” Strawn announced, and my legs gave out in relief.

  “So, it was Bobby, not my grandfather?” I asked hopefully as I sat down.

  “Probable,” Strawn answered. “But we’ll have to prove it. Any chance he’s left-handed?”

  I shook my head no. “No, he’s right-handed. Why?”

  Strawn stared at me for a beat then asked hesitantly, “Is your grandfather left-handed?”

  “No. Why are you askin’ this?”

  Devin turned to look at me. “Whoever killed Billy Ray was left-handed. If Bobby wasn’t, then we’ve got a third man involved.”

  “This is hard to wrap my head around,” I mumbled. “So what you’re sayin’ is Maria overheard Bobby say he was gonna marry me for my money and she came here to warn me, but was murdered instead?”

  “She must have thought she got away clean,” Nate said.

  “Probably left after she stopped recordin’, but they saw her and followed.”

  Devin crouched in front of me and took my hands. “This wasn’t your fault. Or your grandfather’s fault.”

  I nodded. “Poor Maria. She must have been so scared.”

  “We’ll make this right, baby. I promise you that.”

  If the fire in his eyes was any indication I’d say Bobby was looking at thirty-five to life.

  “What happens next?”

  “Next? We fillet open his life and see what falls out until we find this third man and what they were attemptin’ to buy.”

  The mention of filleting made me think of Taft laid out on my aunts’ bed, his blood soaking the sheets.

  “If Bobby had Maria killed, then it’s likely he had Taft killed as well,” I murmured, as the realization of all he’d been involved with sunk in. “I’ve known him my whole life, Devin. How could I not see the evil inside him?”

  “You wouldn’t have, baby. Evil will do anything to protect its perfect image. It isn’t until it’s exposed to the daylight that it’s unleashed.”

  I thought about my grandfather. He didn’t hide his contempt for others; it was sown into the very fabric of his being, free for anyone to see.

  “I think,” I began, searching for the right words, “that my grandfather isn’t truly evil, just set in his ways. Until today, I didn’t see the difference.”

  He pulled me forward and wrapped his big frame around me, holding me secure. “Somethin’ like that,” he sighed.

  “Can we go home now?”

  I was exhausted. The day’s events had worn me down, and my soul hurt at the thought of what Maria must have gone through in her last moments. I wanted to wash away the day in Devin’s arms. Wanted to feel his strength and know I was safe.

  He stood, dragging me with him. “I’m takin’ Calla home. We’ll reconvene in the a.m. after I update Parker.”

  “I’ll call the Chatham County Sheriff and give him an update.”

  “His name is Justin Moore,” I supplied as I picked up my bag. “He gave me his card and told me to call if I needed anything at all. Do you want it?”

  “The sheriff?” Strawn asked.

  “Yes. Justin Moore. Did you meet him last night? He’s the man who tried to step in between my grandfather and me. He’s very nice, and what my aunts would call a gentleman, even if he asked the most embarrassin’ questions.”

  Strawn looked at Devin and smiled. “I’ll bet he did. So he gave you his card in case you needed anything at all?”

  “Yes. Is that unusual?”

  Devin started pulling me toward the elevators, barking out, “Later,” as I tried to keep up. When we were out of Strawn and Nate’s earshot, he growled, “What kind of questions did he ask?” in a deep, surly voice.

  “Why are you growlin’?”

  “What. Kind. Of questions?” he bit out again, jabbing the elevator button repeatedly.

  “I don’t know. If I remember correctly, he didn’t know what twiddle diddles were, so I had to explain.”

  He blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “I don’t even know what the fuck twiddle diddles are, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Why are you shoutin’?”

  “I don’t know,” he shouted back.

  Is he jealous?

  Blazing eyes. Check.

  Jaw like granite. Check.

  Looking down, I saw his hands were balled into fists. Check.

  Moving closer until his lips were an inch away from mine, I whispered, “I also had to explain that you kicked in my aunts’ door in the heat of the moment, because we were anxious to get inside and rip each other’s clothes off.”

  Blazing eyes turned smoldering as the elevator opened. He ignored it and leaned down, whispering back, “Did you tell him I fucked you on the table ‘til you screamed my name?”

  “I think he got the picture,” I answered.

  He drew in air deeply through his nose then let it out slowly. “Fuck, but you drive me crazy,” he growled, then captured my mouth for a heated kiss. When I moaned, he broke from my mouth and asked, “Baby, what the fuck are twiddle diddles?”

  I reached down and cupped his crotch, rubbing my hand down the inseam of his jeans until he hissed.

  “Family jewels. Bollocks. Testicles.”

  Devin grunted, then backed me into the wall and punched the down button
again, muttering, “Keep it up, and they’ll be called blue balls.”

  ✿✿✿

  Prowling after Calla as they headed for his bike, Devin’s breath caught when she looked back at him and cast an impish smile. Hearing that Moore had made a subtle advance toward his woman, Devin itched to possess her body again, to let her know exactly whom she belonged to. He didn’t give a fuck if she was still reeling from Jones’ betrayal. In his mind, there was no better way to deal with heartache than to feel alive—wanted. And he wanted her with the force of an invading army.

  Reaching out her hand as she walked backward, Calla crooked her finger at him as she went. He saw a blush warm her cheeks and he grinned. His Southern belle was playing at something, and he couldn’t wait to find out.

  She stopped at his bike and looked back at him. The moonlight danced off her eyes as she bit her lip and straddled his bike, raising a brow at him as she sat in front.

  He started to say hell no, but an idea formed and he grinned, his eyes hooding in anticipation.

  He sacrificed their helmets since it was two a.m. and the ride home was less than a mile. For what he had in mind, the helmets would be a deterrent. Climbing on the back, he pulled her in close, so they fit on the seat. The bike wasn’t safe to ride in this position, but he didn’t give a shit. He’d risk the consequences.

  Pointing to a control in the middle of the gas tank, he leaned in and mumbled, his gravelly voice an octave deeper for effect, "Turn that to on."

  She glanced up at him to see if he was joking and then turned the control to on as he indicated.

  "Always make sure you're in neutral before starting the bike." Placing his left hand over hers, he lifted it to the clutch. "Pull that in, and hold it,” he instructed in a low whisper, then ran his hand down her silky leg until he'd positioned her foot on the shifter.

  "Kick it down until it won't click anymore." Again, she did as instructed. "Now, gently lift the shifter with your toes until you see that green light go on." He pointed to the neutral indicator then nipped her neck.

  "I've got it,” she answered breathlessly.

  "Good girl. Now let go of the clutch and flip this switch to run," he added in a velvet purr, his hot breath caressing her neck, "and push start."

  The engine roared to life with a growl. “Now, we give her a moment to warm up.”

  Dazed and on fire for his touch, Calla swallowed hard and mumbled, “She already is.”

  “Let’s get her hotter then,” he returned, tilting her head back for a kiss.

  Calla tried to turn on the seat, but he stayed her with his hands, pulling her ass to his crotch so she could feel what she did to him.

  Leaning the bike to its center of gravity, he raised the kickstand, lifted her legs to wrap around his thighs for support and protection from the hot pipes, and then gave it gas, going slow because of their dangerous position.

  Savannah was deserted, the streets dark if not for the glowing streetlights casting shadows. Devin used this to his advantage.

  Sliding his hand up her leg, he cupped her sex, rubbing the seam of her shorts. When her hips shifted, pressing into his palm, he slipped his hand inside one leg of her shorts until he reached her lace panties and then pulled them to the side. When he entered her wet heat, he groaned. She was drenched, ready for him.

  The illicit dance upped the heat factor as she tried to hold still, and within a quarter mile of River Street, her head slammed into his shoulder and she cried out softly. He knew then he’d lose control of the bike if he didn’t stop, so he pulled into a shadowed corner and parked.

  Pulling his hand out of her shorts, he dove back in the front and gave her the attention she needed. One finger joined the first as his thumb rolled her clit, and she ground down on his hand. Her breath caught when he increased his pace, and she rolled her hips, looking for her climax.

  Claiming her mouth to cover her cries of pleasure, his free hand found a pebbled nipple, and he rolled it, pinching hard. She bucked, grinding down on his fingers. He pulled her shirt up so he was skin to skin with her breast, and continued his attentions to the swollen tip. She moaned at the contact of his warm touch, and her legs spread wider for his driving fingers.

  “When I get you home,” he gritted out, “I’m gonna taste that sweet pussy of yours, and I don’t want you to move a muscle. If you do, I won’t give you what you want.”

  Calla whimpered, then arched her back, shuddering as she tightened around his fingers, milking them like it was his cock, and he groaned low in his throat.

  He kept working her as she rode out her orgasm, taking her mouth again to avoid detection. She finally slumped against his arm and opened her eyes. Her hair was a sexy mess, a look he was beginning to realize was just her, and she had a dreamy quality about her face. When she reached up and ran her delicate hand across his face, he couldn’t help but whisper, “Christ, you’re beautiful.”

  Her hand paused on his cheek then she turned on the seat so they were facing each other. “I’ve never been called beautiful before,” she answered scanning his face. “I like that the first time I hear those words, they’re coming from you.”

  He leaned in and nipped her lip. “You’re beautiful, kind, and a million other qualities that drive me wild.”

  “Ditto,” she answered. “But your soul—she placed her hand over his heart—“attracts me the most. You’re gorgeous on the outside, but your inside is blinding in its beauty.”

  He wrapped his hand in her hair and yanked her head back. “You can’t say that shit to me while we’re out on the street when all I want to do is bury myself inside you.”

  She licked her lips. “Then take me home. I promise not to move.”

  Growling, he took her mouth again, then ordered, “Climb on behind me,” when he was done.

  She did as she was told, snuggling in close to his back as he fired up the Harley.

  Devin pushed the speed limit getting home, impatient to get his hands on Calla. A half a block from Bay Street, a car appeared out of nowhere from a back alley as they passed. He gunned the engine, avoiding being clipped on the back end by inches. He felt Calla turn and look behind them as he took a left on Bay and headed for the ramp that would take them down to their building on River Street.

  In the historic district, with its short streets and back alleys, it wasn’t uncommon to have near-misses with cars as tourists tried to navigate back to their hotel. But the raised hair on the back of his neck told Devin it wasn’t a tourist.

  Did Armstrong try twice in one day?

  But why come at him with Calla on the bike?

  ✿✿✿

  Morning came quickly after little sleep, thanks to Devin and his insatiable appetite for my body.

  He’d dropped me off at work with a promise to pick me up when I was done and strict orders not to leave the building without him. He was being overprotective considering everything that happened the day before. Normally, I would have balked at the idea of being ordered around by anyone, but deathly images of Maria and Taft invaded what sleep I’d had, so I didn’t argue.

  I made it to my desk before Poppy and Sienna arrived at work, so I grabbed my mug and headed for the break room, in need of caffeine. I’d missed work the day before and half a day on Monday cleaning for Carmella. I was behind and needed to up my game that day if I wanted to get through several chapters of The Way to a Man’s Heart is Through His Dick.

  As I stirred sugar into my coffee, Jolene walked in with her own mug.

  “You get your family emergency sorted yesterday?”

  She was referring to the excuse I’d given when I called in to work on the way to my grandfather’s house.

  “Not really. Some new developments have arisen,” I yawned.

  “Do tell,” she grinned. “Your granddaddy is a cantankerous old man. I can only imagine what it’s like dealin’ with him, sugar.”

  She filled her mug then turned to walk out with me. “Granddaddy is a complicated man. I bore th
e brunt of that yesterday, but I think I understand him better, if that’s possible.”

  “You ever decide to write a book instead of editin’, you should use him as an antagonist. The man would be solid gold as a villain.”

  “Me? What about you? Have you ever thought of writin’ one?”

  “I have ten started,” she chuckled. “None of them call to me, so I keep on editin’ until the right plot forms.”

  The elevator opened as we stood there, and Poppy and Sienna poured out, deep in conversation as they walked up.

  “That’s why the city has signs posted about panhandlers, Poppy. Just keep walkin’ next time.”

  “But he looked awful, Sienna. He was just standin’ there starin’ at the buildin’ like a ghost or somethin’.”

  “Yeah, and the ghost hissed at you when you offered to buy him breakfast. Next time, keep goin’ and don’t look back.”

  “Hey,” I called out. “What’s goin’ on?”

  Both of them startled at my question, then came at me with questions flying.

  “Some friend you are,” Poppy accused. “Not one word from you yesterday, and we must have left twenty messages.”

  “I—”

  “You were kidnapped, and you didn’t think we’d be worried?”

  “Well, you see—” I tried again.

  “New rule,” Poppy bit out. “When you hook up with the guy you’re lustin’ after and then get kidnapped, a phone call fillin’ us in is at the top of your list.”

  Jolene moved to stand in front of me, grinning. “Sugar, you don’t need to write a novel, your autobiography would be a best seller.”

  “Whatever,” I responded.

  “Not whatever,” Sienna quipped. “Wallflowers don’t keep shit from each other. I’d press you for more information, but I have to get up to Alexandra, so we’re discussin’ this over lunch. And when we do, don’t even consider leavin’ a single detail out,” she ordered, pointing a finger in my face.

  I was beginning to feel guilty. My friendship with them had become important, and I didn’t want to mess it up.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call, but we found a dead man yesterday and were interrogated for hours. By the time we got home, it was close to midnight. Then Devin figured out what happened to Maria and we had to come here to get the evidence. I’m dealin’ with a grandfather who slapped me then kicked me out of the family for choosin’ Devin over him, all while lyin’ to me about my inheritance. And, on top of that, I think I’m already in love with Devin and it’s only been a few days.” I left out the part about Bobby, because they hadn’t proved it yet, and Savannah being Savannah, rumors flew like bees to flowers, and I didn’t want him skipping town.