by CP Smith
“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 L
aura.”
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 wou
ldn’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.
