Wallflowers: One Heart Remains

by CP Smith

  Nate looked to Bo then Devin. He’d deal with the consequences when and if it arose. Poppy wasn’t thinking straight, so he’d have to think for her. She was letting her fear guide her actions. “I need to find a man,” he began, speaking low so no one could hear him. “He would have hung out with Shirley Gentry when Poppy was a child. We’re talkin’ sixteen years ago. He’s gonna be somewhere between the age of say forty to sixty. Probably has priors for molesting a child or even rape.”

  Bo stiffened and so did Devin beside him. Then they both hissed out, “Fuck,” correctly interpreting why he needed it.

  “We’ve got ears in the room,” Nate returned, jerking his head toward Natalie. All three men looked over their shoulders at the woman. She hadn’t moved from where she stood when Nate walked away, but she was watching them and looked to be formulating a plan. If the plan involved trying to come between him and Poppy, he’d forget their friendship and she’d become enemy number two, right after the asshole who’d stolen Poppy’s innocence.

  It was time to handle one problem, so he could focus on the rest. With that in mind, Nate called out in a tone that brokered no argument, “Good seein’ you, Natalie, but I think you’ll understand when I say I’ve got no comment. That Poppy’s got no comment. Our plans to catch up have been delayed—indefinitely.”

  “But, Nate!”

  “I’m askin’ you,” he continued, his expression fierce and final, “to keep away from me and stay the hell away from Poppy. If you can’t honor that request, then rest assured I’ll make your life a livin’ hell. Do you understand me?”

  Her eyes grew wide as he spoke and swear to Christ it looked like her bottom lip even trembled. He might have felt like a dick in another place and time, but not today. It was his job to protect Poppy. Whatever crush she may have had on him eight years ago should have burned out by now. Since it hadn’t, he didn’t want her anywhere near his woman. They’d all learned the hard way what happens when a woman became obsessed. She was sitting in lockup and a man was dead.

  Natalie picked up her purse to leave, her eyes filled with tears. Nate turned his back to emphasize his resolve. He didn’t say another word until she’d pushed through the front doors and the still clamoring crowd, waiting for a news bite.

  “One enemy down, two more to go,” Nate growled, praying to God she took his threat seriously.

  “Like déjà vu,” Devin sighed.

  “Is this Gale Brown all over again?” Bo asked.

  Nate looked at Bo. “If she is, I’ll handle it. First, find me the monster who hurt my woman.”

  Bo paused a beat then whipped out his phone and stalked away. Then Devin did the same and began typing on his phone. He knew how they both felt about Poppy. They wouldn’t hesitate to put themselves out there for her. She’d put her life on the line for both their women. She’d taken out Devin’s gun-toting stalker with fucking driftwood and jumped in front of a bullet meant for Sienna. And she did this because she figured their lives were more important than hers. He knew that mind-set. Knew it from his own fucked-up history. She thought her life meant less than the other Wallflowers because she saw herself as broken and worthless.

  That state of mind was enemy number three. Once he found the monster who put those thoughts in her head, she’d be able to heal. But he needed to get in there fast. Prove to her she could be whole with him standing by her side. That there was no shame or guilt in being a victim.

  She felt less of a woman because that asshole took her innocence. Froze when touched because it reminded her of the past. But she hadn’t frozen once when Nate had experimented earlier, running his hands across her arms and legs to gauge her response. Kissing her to the point of wanting to rip her clothes off, expecting her to shut down while he was doing it. But she hadn’t. And he’d seen the wonder in her eyes when she hadn’t, so enemy number three was going down, even if it killed him.

  _______________

  “Are you three cursed?” Justine Moore, sheriff of Chatham County asked with a crooked smile. He’d kept us waiting in that room for more than ten minutes, finally strolling in like the good old boy he was, with files in his hands. He was a good-looking man with eyes that seemed like they were smiling. The crinkle lines at the sides indicated he did smile and did it often with gusto. But he had a weird sense of humor if he thought anything the girls and I had been through was a reason to laugh.

  “Cursed is a good way of puttin’ it,” Cali replied.

  He scanned the three of us, then his attention moved to Knox, who was standing behind Sienna’s and my chairs. “And you’re the father of these two women?” He indicated Sienna and me. I had no idea why he was asking or what it had to do with Rachel Scott’s kidnapping.

  I tilted my head and looked up at Knox. He looked between Sienna and me and smiled that dang smile of his. The one that said he was proud of the fact we were his daughters. The one that cut like a knife when I saw it because I wanted to believe it, but I couldn’t. “Yeah,” he answered just as proudly as his smile.

  Moore nodded then opened a file. “ATF. Spent the last twenty some odd years in California, so I’m guessin’ you’re their father in the loosest sense of the word.”

  Knox stiffened at the insult, and Sienna drew in a deep breath. I wanted to smile at the sheriff. Maybe even kiss him. Instead, I confirmed Moore’s investigative powers. “He’s my father in DNA only.”

  “Why are we discussing my relationship with my daughters, instead of focusing on what they saw last night?”

  Moore had lifted his eyes to me when I answered, but they shot to Knox with contained annoyance when he questioned the sheriff’s lack of interrogation.

  “I like to know who I’m dealin’ with at all times. You ordered my deputies to include you in this interrogation, and I don’t take kindly to strangers orderin’ my men around. I know these women. Have dealt with them twice. I like them. I’ll also add that when I was diggin’ through everyone’s background during the Bullwinkle investigation, neither of their backgrounds came back listin’ you as their father. So, you’ll understand that I’m fuckin’ curious why women I know and like have a father I’ve never heard of givin’ my men orders.”

  “You handled the murders at Bullwinkle Ranch?”

  “Yeah,” Moore confirmed. “It’s my jurisdiction.”

  Interest began to play in my father’s eyes. He was calculating something, and I didn’t like it. “Are you satisfied with the outcome? You sure you didn’t have any other suspects?”

  Moore looked at me then back at Knox. I had a sinking feeling where this was going, because it was obvious my father hated Nate, and Nate had been out of our line of sight for about five minutes. Something we had told Moore during the investigation when asked where everyone was at the time of Clint Black’s murder. But we also knew Nate was in the house when I was in the cabin. A cabin Black’s murderer was hiding in while waiting for me to leave. So, Red’s confession or not, I knew Nate was innocent because it took longer than five minutes to walk to the cabin, kill Black, then get back to us.

  “Forensics doesn’t lie. All available suspects were accounted for at the time of death.”

  “Forensics can be off,” Knox argued. “It’s a science, not one-hundred-percent accurate.”

  “Yeah, it can,” Moore agreed, “but a confession from Black’s killer to your own daughters is pretty fuckin’ solid. Unless you wanna call them liars.”

  In his apparent investigation into what happened at Bullwinkle Ranch, Knox must have missed that tidbit of information because he grew tight like a coiled snake. “He could have been in on it with them,” Knox threw out, hell-bent on incriminating Nate for a murder he didn’t commit because something in his past tweaked my father. I stared openmouthed at Knox, too stunned to reply to his ridiculous implication, but not Sienna. It seemed even she, after being excited to have Knox back in our lives, had lost her patience with him.

  “Stop it,” she whispered from her seat next to me. “Nate�
��s a good man. You don’t know him like we do.”

  “One of the best I know,” Cali joined in, glaring up at Knox.

  “The best man I know,” I also stated with heat in my eyes. “I’m fed up to here with your constant belittling of Nate. If you say another word against him, I’ll never speak to you again. Do you understand? Lay. Off. Nate.”

  Knox’s hands shot up, and he grabbed his hair, tearing through it in frustration. His eyes whipped around the room looking for what, I didn’t know. When nothing materialized out of the blue, with a big fat arrow pointing to Nate, he ignored my warning and grew desperate. “You know I’m right,” he growled, pinning Moore with his eyes. “You know his record.”

  “I know you think you’re right.”

  “He’s no good for her.”

  “Not your call or mine, but everything I know about Jacobs says he’s a good man, who made the most of a bad situation.”

  My father was silent for a moment then his eyes shot to me. He looked desperate. I could see his panic.

  “Why?” I asked. “Why are you doing this?”

  His face turned to rage. “Because he’s a killer. He killed before and he’ll kill again. It’s what they always do!”

  I jerked back as if I’d been hit. Silence filled the room as the girls and I stared at Knox in disbelief. I stood suddenly and slapped him across the face, disgusted this man was my father. “Get out of my life!” I shrieked, done with his lies.

  Knox grabbed my hands to thwart my next blow and hauled me against his chest. “He beat his father and put him in a coma. He died three days later. He’s not the man you think he is.”

  “Liar!”

  “It’s not a lie,” he bellowed.

  Pushing off his chest, I rounded on Moore as bile threatened the base of my throat. “Tell him!” I demanded. “Tell him he’s wrong,” but I knew. I knew he was telling the truth because I’d seen the haunted look in Nate’s eyes when he thought no one was looking. I saw it in the mirror daily. It took years for that look to take hold. Which meant it was as old as mine.

  “His father was abusive,” Moore began, and I braced against the table, curling my finger into my palm so I could tear at the skin to keep my anxiety in check. “He beat Nate and his mother from the time he was little. He went too far when Nate was sixteen. He stepped in to save his mother, like he always did, but Nate had grown from a scrawny kid into a man early. He was acquitted of all charges in light of the constant abuse, and the fact his father put his mother in a wheelchair for the rest of her life.”

  My hand flew to my mouth as the acid began to churn. Nate had been abused just like I had. I wanted to scream. To throw up. Images of a younger Nate being tormented, by someone who should have protected him, sent my feet flying toward the door. I had to get out of there, or I’d lose it.

  I threw the door open and saw Nate standing at the end of the hall like he was waiting for me. His head was down, looking at his boots, and I saw the little boy he’d once been. The one who protected his mother from a monster. I did the only thing I could to alleviate the anger burning like fire through my veins, I flew straight for him. He needed to know he was a hero and not a killer. That my father was wrong about him. He’d done what I couldn’t. He’d been brave and faced the dragon in the dark.

  His head whipped up at the sound of my pounding feet. He braced just in time as I launched myself at him.

  He growled, “Jesus,” at my impact. I climbed his body, wrapping my legs around his waist, then I buried my head in his neck, sobbing, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” into his skin.

  One of his arms banded around my back and the other cupped my head. “What the fuck happened in there?”

  I only had to say two words. “Your father.”

  Nate’s grip on me loosened in shock. I was afraid he would let me go, say it was none of my business. Instead, he tightened his arms quickly and he buried his own face into my neck, holding on.

  “I’m so sorry,” I hiccupped in his neck.

  “I know you are.”

  “I’d have beat him up too,” I kept going.

  “No, you wouldn’t,” he breathed against my skin.

  I pulled back and looked at him through tear-soaked eyes. “I have biker babe princess DNA running through my veins. I so would have beaten him up!”

  Nate blinked, then smiled. Actually, smiled in the face of my knowing he’d caused his father’s death.

  “There’s my Kitten,” he mumbled with what looked like pride, then he reached up and wiped the tears from my cheek. “I take it your father broke the news to you?”

  I nodded, then buried my face in his neck again and squeezed my legs. I was never letting him go. He needed me as much as I needed him. He needed to feel special. Know that even though our childhoods may have broken us at times, they didn’t define us. I could have become a drug addict or a runaway after what happened to me, but I’d had Shirley to take care of and my art to see me through. Nate, it seemed, had his mother. But those demons in his eyes told me he still had baggage. Just like I had. He said he was gonna fix me. Well, I was gonna fix him too. Then we both could wear the scars of our pasts as badges of honor, rather than defeat.

  “Are you done bein’ interrogated?”

  I shook my head. “Moore hasn’t started yet.”

  “You feel up to goin’ back in there?” he asked low, his tone protective. I squeezed my legs and my arms at the same time, then pulled my head out of his neck and placed my lips against his. “I think I could do just about anything if you’re with me.”

  His eyes flashed with heat, the color deepening in response to my declaration. He took my mouth with a hunger I’d hadn’t felt before. I opened for him instantly and attacked him back. I may have even ground myself on his stomach when the throbbing between my legs returned, which was a first for me. Nate moaned softly in reaction to the grinding, and hope did a fist pump! I’d never made a man moan before.

  Nate dropped my legs to the floor then held on while I found my balance. “Let’s get this done and get the fuck out of here,” he growled, then led me back down the hall. Moore and Knox were watching Nate and me as we approached. Moore was grinning, satisfaction etched across his face. Knox looked sick, and I didn’t care.

  “Is there gonna be a problem in my station?” Moore asked Nate.

  Nate glared at Knox. “I’m sittin’ in on this interrogation. If he doesn’t upset Poppy again, you’ll have no problems from me.”

  “That won’t be a problem,” I said, curling into his side, “because I want Knox out of the room.”

  “Poppy,” Knox started, but I put my hand up to stop him.

  “I told you if you said one more word against Nate; I was done with you. So now I’m done. Go back to California, Daddy. This town isn’t big enough for both of us.”

  I started to move away from Knox, but I stopped when I saw Sienna standing in the door with a look of utter desolation on her face.

  Dangitalltoheck.

  Once again, my ADD had led me astray. I’d forgotten Knox was Sienna’s father too.

  “He’s not just your father,” she whispered with an edge to her voice, looking between Knox and me. “Please don’t go back to California.”

  Petunias!

  In my quest to replace curse words with a suitable option, I’d remembered a book where the heroine had replaced the F-word with petunias. It was the perfect replacement for a Wallflower, who had to adhere to the code ‘have each other’s back with either friend or foe’ for her sister.

  That made Knox her friend and my foe. I’d have to learn to bend to her wishes, while keeping my distance.

  Effin’ Petunias!

  “You’re right,” I conceded to Sienna. I’d ignored their connection in a selfish desire to be rid of him and all he represented. “But I’m warnin’ you now, you need to keep him away from me if you don’t like the word petunias!”

  Seven

  SCARED?

  NATE PUL
LED POPPY’S CAR IN behind Jacobs’ Ladder and turned off the ignition. She’d fallen asleep, her head resting on his shoulder after giving her statement to Moore. They’d had no more issues with Knox, who’d held his tongue as the Wallflowers described how they’d heard a scream, left the cottage to investigate, then found themselves chasing a kidnapper. Since Nate was in the room, Moore had asked him what he’d seen as well. He’d told him the porch light flipped on, while keeping an eye on the women, so they’d gone to investigate. He gave a description of the man who’d hit Poppy in an attempt to escape with Rachel Scott, then their ensuing pursuit, which ended with the speedboat racing off into the darkness of the Atlantic.

  “Why were you watchin’ over Poppy and her friends to begin with?” Moore had asked.

  Nate raised a brow. “You even have to ask after the past couple of weeks?”

  Moore grunted he understood, but Calla answered for Nate, her derisive tone causing his lips to twitch. “To keep us from endin’ up in the Savannah River.”

  Poppy and Sienna had looked at her with sympathy, then added to her claim.

  “Or up a tree,” Sienna began just as snippily.

  “Or burnin’ down a house,” Poppy added, her eyes darting to Calla.

  “Or gettin’ trapped in a mine,” Sienna offered, but she couldn’t hold her grin in check.

  “Don’t forget the car chase and the Yeti,” Calla reminded, her anger gone, now replaced with a giggle.

  “Or the cattle rustlin’,” Poppy mumbled, reminding Nate he was still pissed they’d escaped his watch.

  “Or the other car chase,” Sienna smirked, and he closed his eyes. He’d forgotten about them racing at a high rate of speed to stop Gayla Brown, a woman hell-bent on ruining Devin’s life, from killing Calla.

  “There’s also goin’ undercover as maids to find a killer,” Poppy sighed.

  “And hidin’ in that closet,” Calla giggled, wiggling her eyebrows. Nate raised his at Poppy and she blushed. They’d both hid in a closet to avoid detection and caught an eyeful of Devin in the process.