by CP Smith
Strawn peeled his eyes off Sienna and slid up to the bar.
“I pity the man who takes her on,” he growled.
“Would need to be a strong one, that’s for sure,” Devin agreed.
“He’d have to lock her up to keep her out of trouble,” Strawn went on.
“Heard stories about a Sheriff who did just that in Colorado,” Devin replied, picking up his beer.
“How’d it turn out for him?”
He looked at Strawn and smiled. “He married her.”
Strawn murmured, “Jesus,” then grabbed his beer and took a long pull before he pulled a memory card from his pocket.
“For you,” he murmured. “I deleted the pics off the one in evidence before anyone saw them. We didn’t need them after she gave a full confession.”
Devin looked at the memory card.
“So you saw them?” he hissed.
Strawn grinned. “Fuckin’ cowboy.”
“Bite me,” Devin answered, deciding to let it go. He figured at most, the way he’d covered Calla’s body, his ass was on display.
Strawn’s jaw grew tight at being reminded of Sienna’s sharp tongue.
The girls burst out laughing again, diverting both men’s attention, and Strawn shook his head. “What’s so fuckin’ funny?”
Nate grinned. “Hot Cop versus the Asian Giant.”
Strawn’s eyes shot to Devin. “Jesus.”
“Get used to ‘Hot Cop.’” Devin chuckled low, clapping his friend on the back.
“Laugh it up, ‘Dashing Detective,’” Strawn returned.
The video of them both wrestling with Yoo had hit the Internet about three hours after their confrontation with her. They’d both been too busy rescuing Calla to know about it until they made it back to the station.
“You boys should take your show on the road,” a waitress called out.
Devin heard Calla shout, “That’s my man,” and he looked up. The light from above cast a halo around her head again.
Part angel, part wanton woman.
As if he called to her, Calla turned her head and their eyes locked. Her light purple eyes shone bright as she looked at him, then hooded in response when he flashed her a sinister smile.
Picking up his beer, Devin remembered a conversation they’d had about how she watched him that first night. Specifically about being fascinated with his neck when he took a drink.
To crave my touch whispered through his mind, so he tilted his head back and took a long swallow. When he righted the beer, he glanced back at her, and she appeared dazed.
He lifted a brow in response, and Calla looked away, then she leaned forward and said something to the girls before standing up.
“I need the key to your office,” Devin told Nate.
Nate turned and looked at him, saw his eyes were on Calla and that she was descending the stairs with the same heated look.
Nate dug his keys out and tossed them to his friend. Devin snagged them out of the air as Calla approached, then he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the office.
Strawn watched as the two disappeared behind the door. “Worth lyin’, stealin’, or killin’ for.”
“Yep, he always was a lucky bastard,” Nate replied.
“Not that lucky,” Strawn said. “They go where it’s headed, he’ll have Preston Armstrong for a grandfather-in-law.”
Nate grinned. “Solace.”
“Can’t win them all.”
Nate caught movement up above as he chuckled, and looked up.
Then he frowned.
“Does Sienna look like she’s just seen a ghost?”
Strawn turned and followed his eyes.
Poppy and Sienna were both standing, but Sienna was locked in place, her face void of color, as a man talked to her. When he reached out a hand and touched her arm, she jumped, then her eyes softened. As they spoke, the man pulled out his wallet and handed her a card, then hesitantly leaned in and brushed a kiss across her cheek before turning and heading down the stairs.
Strawn peeled his burning eyes off the man and looked up at Sienna. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes followed the man as he headed for the door.
Standing from his stool, never taking his eyes off Sienna, Strawn growled, “Catch you later,” then stormed off toward the exit.
Nate watched as he left, and then grinned.
He figured it would take Strawn about a day to make his move, whether he was ready to or not.
The End
Stay tuned for Wallflowers: Double Trouble
Coming early spring 2017
About the Author
CP Smith lives in Oklahoma with her husband and five children. She loves football, reading, and card games. Writing for her is about escape. She writes what she loves to read, and leaves the rest to those with better imaginations.
You can reach Ms. Smith at:
[email protected]
https://www.facebook.com/Author-CP-Smith-73984223936361uyjh0/timeline/