Wallflowers:Three of a Kind

by CP Smith

  Poppy and Sienna headed inside Frock You looking for Calla. When they didn’t find her in the kitchen, they headed out into the front of the store.

  Seeing only Eunice as they scanned the room, Sienna called out, “Where’s Cali?”

  “Out front lookin’ for Bernice, I think.”

  Poppy walked to the door and pulled it open then stepped out onto the sidewalk and scanned the street.

  “They aren’t out here,” she called over her shoulder. “Maybe they went for ice cream,” she mumbled. “Ice cream always helps me think.”

  She started to re-enter Frock You, but she paused when she heard a muted cry for help.

  “Did y’all hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Eunice called out.

  Turning, Poppy headed in the direction of the voice then stopped and listened again.

  “My niece has been taken by a madwoman.”

  Recognizing Bernice’s voice, Poppy pushed open the door, flipped on the light, and found her lying on the floor in a puddle of blood, a phone pressed to her ear.

  Poppy shouted, “Bernice!”

  “Out the back door,” Bernice cried out. “She took my baby out the back door.”

  Sienna and Eunice entered the room in a rush, and Poppy headed for the back of the office. Finding a door wide open, she ran out into the back alley and caught sight of Cali being forced into a red SUV.

  She cried out, “Stop,” and started to run toward them, but a woman who looked just like Gayla Brown raised a gun and pulled the trigger. A bullet whipped past Poppy’s head, burying itself in the old bricks behind her, so she dove back through the door.

  “Was that a gunshot?” Sienna shouted as she made her way back to Poppy.

  “She shot at me,” Poppy cried out.

  “Who? Calla?”

  “Gayla Brown.”

  “What is goin’ on?” Sienna shouted. “Why is Gayla Brown shootin’ at you?”

  ”I just saw Gayla Brown shove Cali into a SUV. She had a gun, and she shot at me.”

  “She’s gonna kill my girl,” Bernice shouted, “to punish Devin.”

  The girls looked at each, their eyes wide in shock, and cried out, “She’s the shooter,” in unison.

  Sienna pulled keys from her pocket and grabbed Poppy’s hand. “Come on,” she bit out as she dragged Poppy out the back door and down the alley to her car.

  As they climbed in, they heard the squeal of tires and looked up the ramp to see a red SUV hang a left on Bay Street and then accelerate.

  “That’s her,” Poppy called out, pointing.

  “Call the police and ask for Detective Strawn,” Sienna ordered as she threw her car into reverse.

  She took the ramp up to Bay Street and ran the red light as she exited the parking area, barely missing cars as they drove through the intersection. Then she pushed the gas to the floor and headed in the direction of the SUV.

  Bay Street turned into Islands Expressway, the scenic, winding road that led to Tybee Island. The SUV had had enough of a head start that they could have pulled off without them knowing and headed into town. This was Sienna’s worry and she kept pushing the speed limit, but after ten miles, just as Sienna thought they’d lost Calla, Poppy shouted, “There.”

  “Why is it taking so long to track Strawn down?”

  “They keep puttin’ me on hold. I don’t think they understand what ‘life or death’ means.”

  “Call them back and tell them you’re his girlfriend and that his house is on fire.”

  Poppy did as she said and repeated the message, and low and behold, he finally answered.

  “This is Strawn,” a deep voice echoed in her ear.

  “Thank you, God. This is Poppy Gentry, one of the Wallflowers. A woman by the name of Gayla Brown, who works with us at Poe Publishing, has taken Calla Armstrong against her will. We are currently in pursuit on Island Expressway. Can you send backup?”

  There was a pause on the other end, then Strawn growled, “You wanna run that past me one more time?”

  “Calla. Kidnapped. Red SUV. Island Expressway headed toward Tybee Island. Send backup.”

  There was a muffled sound like a hand being placed over the receiver, then she heard Devin in the background thunder, “WHAT?” then he started barking orders. “You, get me a unit who can keep up with a bike, and you, find out who the fuck Gayla Brown is.”

  Whoever he was shouting at must not have moved, because Strawn bit out, “Do as he says. I’ll pull her identification,” then she heard clicking on a keyboard for a moment. Devin started answering, “No. Not her. Next,” then shouted, “Stop! . . . Kendall Brown, I will rip your fuckin’ head off.”

  “Does Gayla go by the name Kendall?” Poppy asked.

  Sienna didn’t take her eyes off the road, her attention was zeroed in on the back of the red SUV, but she shook her head slightly and shrugged.

  “Poppy, this is a dangerous situation. We don’t know what this woman is capable of,” Strawn bit out. “You need—‘”

  “She’s capable of shootin’ at me,” Poppy interrupted a tad hysterically. “I know how dangerous this situation is. Please, just help Calla.”

  He was quiet for a moment then in a calm, gentle voice, said, “Tell me where you are, sugar, and I’ll make sure everyone comes home safe.”

  “We’re in Sienna’s car in hot pursuit. We’re safe, just worried about Calla.”

  “ . . . Poppy,” Strawn said in a stilted tone.

  “Yeah?”

  “Where. On. The road. Your present location.”

  She looked around for a mile marker and saw a sign for Tybee Island.

  “Ten miles from Tybee Island.”

  “Got it. Now pull off the road and let us handle this. I’ll call Chatham County and hopefully head them off before they get to the Island.”

  “No way,” Poppy answered. “Wallflowers do not leave a woman behind.”

  “Damn, Skippy,” Sienna muttered, pushing the pedal to the floor.

  “Pull over, dammit,” Strawn ordered.

  “Sorry, it’s not happenin’. Until we see sirens, we’re stickin’ to them like glue.”

  “Poppy, technically you can’t see sirens, you can only hear them,” Sienna pointed out.

  Poppy rolled her eyes. “I assure you he caught my meanin’.”

  “If you don’t pull over, I’m gonna arrest you for endangerin’ the public,” Strawn threatened.

  “Is he shoutin’ at you? What’s he sayin’?” Sienna asked.

  “He says if you don’t pull over, he’s gonna arrest you for endangerin’ the public.”

  She scoffed. “Bite me, lawman,” Sienna shouted at the phone. “Would you leave a friend behind?”

  There was static on the end of the line, so Poppy asked, “You still there, Detective?”

  “ . . . Did she just say bite me?”

  “She did. And she meant it.”

  “ . . . Tell Sienna I’m givin’ her fair warnin’.”

  ”What warnin’ is that?”

  “That when Calla is safe,” he growled low—she looked at Sienna and swallowed hard. His tone brokered no arguments, and she decided they’d pushed him too far—“to hide.”

  ✿✿✿

  Gayla crept, obeying all speed limits once we passed over the bridge into Tybee Island. I would have made a run for it in the slower-moving traffic if it weren’t for the barrel of a gun pressed into my side. As it was, I kept still like a statue, terrified the slightest movement would cause her to fire.

  “Why Tybee?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  With stone-cold anger, she answered. “Last place the two of you fucked like dogs. I’m hoping the image of you dead in the last place he had you will push him over the edge.”

  I’d had my suspicions that she had been behind Taft’s death, but her admission that she knew Devin and I had been there the night before sealed it.

  “Why did you kill Charles Taft?”

  Her jaw tightened. “He
was there when I messed with Devin’s brake lines. I didn’t see him until he followed Devin and took pictures of his crash. I had to get my hands on his memory card.”

  “So you followed him while he was followin’ us?”

  “He was easy pickin’s. I made sure he saw me walk up to the cottage, and when he came to investigate, I promised to screw him if he gave me the pictures he took. Good thing I did, too, or your pale ass would be all over the Internet by now. I’m pretty sure your grandfather wasn’t payin’ him to keep that close a watch on you and Devin.”

  “He took pictures of . . .”

  “Oh, yeah. He was watchin’ you from the window the whole time. The perv went back to his car when you were done and jacked off, too.”

  My stomach dropped, and I knew I was gonna throw up.

  “You look green,” she chuckled.

  “Bein’ held at gunpoint will do that to you,” I mumbled, trying to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth to avoiding puking all over myself.

  The wind kicked up, and the skies had turned darker as we made our way to my aunts’ cottage. The hurricane brewing off the coast was sending rain in our direction. It seemed fitting that the day I might die would turn gray.

  When she pulled up in front of my aunts’, parking so the SUV was hidden by the cottage and the sea, the skies opened up and cried, and I mimicked them.

  This was it. This was where it all ended. I’d never see my aunts again, never feel Devin’s lips on mine or his arms holding me tight until I felt safe.

  “Out. Hands where I can see them,” Gayla ordered.

  She stood with the driver’s side door open, motioning for me to crawl to her.

  I didn’t want to die, and I knew if I did as she asked, she would walk me into the cottage and pull the trigger. I was dead either way, so I decided it was now or never.

  Crawling across the seat, I waited until I had a foot firmly on the ground and then I lunged at her, putting my head into her gut. Gayla stumbled in her stilettoes and landed on her ass, so I made a run for it out onto the beach, hoping she wouldn’t want to draw attention to herself.

  I was wrong.

  Bullets bit the sand next to me as I ran full steam for the waves crashing in front of me. The storm had kicked up the sea, and only a strong swimmer would be able to survive it. After spending my childhood in these waters, I was as strong as they came, so I decided to risk it. At least if I drowned, I would die on my terms and not at her hand.

  There was a pier about fifty yards away, so I angled my dive into the cool Atlantic. Waves pummeled me, so I dove under them, only coming up for air when my lungs burned to avoid being shot.

  The tide would take me out then a wave would send me forward. I was getting nowhere and fading fast, so after five minutes of fighting the current, I decided to tread water for a moment and looked back the way I came. I froze, wiping salt water from my eyes to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

  Poppy and Sienna were on the beach shouting at me, and Gayla was on the ground not moving.

  I don’t know where they came from, but hope surged, and I started kicking for the shore. But for every stroke, the current took me back two.

  The pier was my only hope.

  With renewed determination, I swam sideways against the current, kicking and pulling at the water. Twenty feet. Ten feet. Then five. A wave thrust me toward a leg, and I grabbed hold, wrapping my arms and legs around the pole.

  Maneuvering so I could see the shore, I was overjoyed to find bright lights from emergency vehicles dressing the beach like Christmas lights. And in the pouring rain, surrounded by the black water of the Atlantic, I could see Poppy and Sienna pointing toward me as Devin sprinted across the sand, pulling his shirt from his body before diving into the ocean and swimming in my direction.

  I smiled even though I was freezing. Not because Devin was about to save me or because Gayla was being hauled away in cuffs. No, I was smiling because I’d been saved by two women, who had proven in five short days that they were my friends, my equals, my Wallflowers. And, as they’d said: Wallflowers are for life. Wallflowers always stick together, and Wallflowers never leave a woman behind.

  When Devin reached me, I dove into his arms.

  “I love you,” I cried out. “I don’t care if it’s only been five days. I love you, and I want you to know it.”

  Clutching me to his body, Devin grabbed hold of the pier and then growled in my ear, “What’d I say about tellin’ me shit like that when we’re in public?”

  I smiled into his neck.

  “Then take me home and punish me.”

  The thundering of feet could be heard from the pier above us, then someone hollered, “Hold on! We’ve got a harness coming,” but Devin didn’t respond. He was too busy kissing me senseless as waves crashed around us.

  Five days was all it took for me to find my Happily Ever After.

  Now, it was Poppy and Sienna’s turn.

  Epilogue

  Three days later . . .

  JACOBS’ LADDER WAS RELATIVELY quiet for a Saturday afternoon, which worked for Devin. After a week one could only describe as heaven and hell, he needed quiet.

  Taking the last pull from his beer, he jerked his head at Nate and held the bottle up, indicating he needed another. Laughter broke the air above him, and he looked up and smiled. His Wallflower and her friends were sitting at the same table as the week before. The same table on the same day he’d looked into those lavender eyes and fell helplessly down the rabbit hole.

  Nate headed over with a fresh beer and then popped the metal top off below the bar, all while looking up at Calla and her friends.

  “Still can’t believe those two women attacked that bitch with driftwood. Takes courage,” he remarked. “A lesser man would have waited for the cops.”

  Devin looked up at the Wallflowers. Lesser man or not, there weren’t many men or women period who would have chanced getting shot for a friend.

  “They’re special, that’s for sure,” Devin stated.

  “Yeah, special,” Nate echoed absentmindedly, his eyes locked on Poppy.

  “Dilligaf,” Devin murmured.

  “What?” Nate asked.

  “Nothin’,” he returned and smiled around his beer.

  Pulling his eyes from Poppy, Nate grabbed a towel and began wiping down the bar.

  “How’s Bernice?”

  “Stitches to her forehead, but other than that she’s rarin’ to go.”

  “And Eunice? She let Odis Lee back in?”

  “Nope. Flower delivery comes every day, and she takes it with a smile.”

  “Earnin’ his way back in,” Nate stated.

  “He’s lucky she talks to him at all.”

  “I wouldn’t trust him.”

  “Good thing he’s not in love with you then.” Devin grinned.

  “What about Armstrong? Now that Jones is in jail, has he reached out to Calla?”

  Devin’s jaw ticked at hearing the old man’s name.

  “He called.”

  “And?”

  “He thanked me for savin’ his granddaughter.”

  Nate’s brows shot to his forehead. “That’s surprisin’,” he replied.

  Devin smiled. “Manners are somethin’ you don’t forget in the Armstrong family. Even if the one you’re thankin’ is a low-life PI.”

  “Still doesn’t want you with Calla?”

  Devin took a pull from his beer and swallowed. “I asked him that, and his reply surprised me.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “He said no one is good enough for his granddaughter.”

  “That’s tellin’.”

  “Yeah, it is. He’s got a fucked-up way of showin’ it, though.”

  “You tell Calla?”

  He shook his head. “She’s resolved to the fact of who he is. If he wants to make amends, it’s up to him.”

  The girls cackled louder, and Nate looked up again, pausing as he wiped down the bar. De
vin watched as Nate’s eyes grew lazy with interest. He knew that look. He also knew Nate wouldn’t act on it yet. Nate was married to his bar, and it would take a certain type of woman who could handle his commitment—and Gertrude. Nate knew it, so he’d avoided committed relationships. Devin figured for the right woman, anything was possible, once he pulled his head out of his ass and admitted he was standing at the edge of the same rabbit hole, that is.

  “You missed a spot,” Devin mumbled to pull Nate’s attention away from Poppy.

  Looking down at the bar, Nate frowned and swiped at the imaginary spot. Shaking his head, Devin looked up and saw Poppy staring at Nate, and chuckled softly.

  “You ever hear from Parker?” Nate asked, laying a bowl of peanuts in front of Devin.

  “Last night,” Devin answered, grabbing a nut. “Seems the reception up in Alaska is sketchy. He was stayin’ in a cabin and couldn’t get a signal out. He’s lookin’ into Armstrong for me just so I can lay that beast to rest, once and for all.”

  “And Jones? Now that he’s behind bars, is he sharin’ about the arms dealers?”

  “Nope. He and Yoo are tight-lipped. Seems they’d rather die in prison than name names.”

  “You gonna follow up?”

  Devin raised a brow. “What do you think?”

  “Exactly that.” Nate grinned. “Let me know if you need help.”

  The bar door opened and Bo Strawn walked in. He held up one finger, and Nate turned and grabbed another frosted bottle from the cooler.

  As he made his way over to Devin, the girls kicked up their noise again, and he looked up. Then he scowled.

  Devin turned to their table and watched as Sienna narrowed her eyes at Strawn, then stuck out her tongue.

  Strawn had been fit to be tied by the time he arrived on scene. Poppy had kept him on the phone until Gayla had pulled in front of the cottage. He’d ordered them to stay in the car, but thank Christ they hadn’t listened. When he arrived at the cottage, he’d gotten into both their faces, went as far as dragging Sienna off to the side and chewed on her until she exploded. She’d never backed down from her position that she was right, had argued he would have done the same thing if it was his friend, and that had frustrated Strawn into silence because it was true.