Wallflowers: Double Trouble

by CP Smith

I blinked. Bo said he would look for him, but it didn’t occur to me he’d do it so quickly.

  “Are you sayin’ you found him?” My heart pounded in my chest.

  “We’ll talk when I get to your place.”

  “Bo—”

  “When I get there, baby.”

  “Please,” I whispered into the phone, my tone begging.

  There was a pregnant pause, then Bo whispered, “Fuck.”

  “Please tell me what you know.”

  “He goes by the name Knox, but his given name is David. David Tyler. I just got the confirmation, but that’s all I’ve got.”

  “How did you find him?”

  “I’ll tell you when I get to your place.”

  “Bo, please.”

  “I’ve told you all I’m gonna tell you without bein’ there.”

  “Is it bad?” I asked, my stomach dropping like a lead ball. What if he’s a serial killer?

  “I don’t know yet. I gotta go to the station and run his info.”

  “Okay,” I answered breathlessly. I’d just have to be patient. “I’ll tell Nate when he gets back that we’re in the clear.”

  “He left you alone?”

  “Poppy got a call that upset her, and she ran out. Nate took off after her.”

  Bo sighed. “That lasted all of three days.”

  “What did?”

  “You promisin’ to listen.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Uh, we did listen. Poppy is the one who ran out.”

  “Right. So, she’s the weak link now.”

  “Weak link?”

  “Yeah, weak link. She doesn’t have a man who’ll lose his shit if somethin’ happens to her, so she does what she wants. The weak link in your Wallflower chain. It’s only as strong as its weakest member. Meanin’ she’ll break, and you’ll follow suit.”

  “You’re an ass,” I snapped. “What does havin’ a man got to do with anything? I promised to listen ‘cause you’re a lawman, and you have more experience with bad guys than me, not because you’d lose your shit if I disobeyed. You’re not my father.”

  Bo grew quiet. I could hear him breathing on the other end, so I waited.

  “Point made,” he growled. “But I’ll point out that listenin’ to me has nothin’ to do with bein’ disobedient and everything to do with lovin’ someone enough not to worry them.”

  My heart fluttered. He loved me. “You’re right,” I breathed out. “And I love you, too.”

  “Christ, you drive me nuts.”

  “Ditto,” I smiled. “So, do you want me to call Nate?”

  “No, I’ll call him and bring him up to date.”

  “Okay, then,” I said.

  “Sienna?”

  “What?”

  “You’re worth the heartburn.”

  I smiled. He was referring to his comment when he’d rescued me from the tree.

  “You, too,” I whispered.

  “See you in a few hours,” Bo said, then hung up.

  “I take it we’re in the clear and can roam the streets of Savannah without a bodyguard?”

  I nodded. “Bo may have a lead on my father,” I said excitedly.

  Cali blinked. “How? Who? Where?”

  I chuckled. “All I know is his name may be David Tyler. But he called him Knox for some reason.”

  “Like a nickname?”

  I shrugged. “Cali, do you think he’ll like me?”

  The thought he might not accept me started rolling around my head like a gerbil in a wheel.

  Her smile softened, and she grabbed my hand. “He’ll love you. Just like I did the moment I met you. Just like Bo does. You’re impossible to hate.”

  My bottom lip trembled. “Sorry, residual angst from my family. I’ll worry about it when it happens. Right now, I’m worried about Poppy. What do you think is goin’ on with her mother?”

  “No clue,” Cali answered. “Since we’re free to go, do you wanna follow her and find out?”

  I stood instantly. “I’ve been to her mother’s house a few times. We can check there first.”

  We both grabbed our purses and headed downstairs, waving at Nate’s aunt as we left.

  “Did you notice how Nate chased after her?” Cali said as we hurried through the crowded sidewalk. “I wonder if he’s feelin’ the same thing, too?”

  “We can only hope,” I sighed. “Watchin’ her is frustratin’.”

  We made the long walk to Cali’s building and climbed into my beat-up car. As much as I hated to part with my silver Honda, it was time. New life. New man. New wheels for the new Sienna.

  Poppy’s mother lived on the outskirts of the city, in a less than desirable neighborhood. I’d met her several times in the past two years. She’d been stunning once, but life had beaten her down. Yet, every once in a while, I saw a spark in her eyes, and I knew she’d been a spitfire in her youth. A trait her daughter had inherited. Poppy looked just like her, too. No one would doubt that she was her mother’s daughter.

  As we rounded the corner to her mother’s house, I caught sight of Nate sitting on his motorcycle. He was parked two doors down, like a sentry guarding a castle. He turned his head as we approached and climbed off his bike.

  I came to a stop next to him and rolled down the window. “I take it since you’re here, Bo didn’t call you.”

  Nate shook his head. “Just got off the phone with him. Poppy ran inside as I pulled up. What’s goin’ on with her? She looked like she saw a ghost.”

  “No idea. We’re gonna find out, though. You wanna come inside with us?” I asked.

  Nate looked at the house, then back at us. “Yeah.”

  I smiled. He definitely looked like a man on the hunt. “I’ll just pull over,” I said, then rolled up the window and gave Cali big eyes.

  “This should be interestin’,” she mumbled.

  Shirley Gentry’s home was neutral. Mushroom-colored siding wrapped around the house, a throwback from the early nineties when vinyl siding was king, with gray planters on either side of the black door housing dying flowers. There was no color to distinguish it from the other lifeless houses on the street. In fact, the neighborhood as a whole gave off the air of having given up.

  As we approached the door, I could hear voices inside. Poppy seemed to be yelling at someone. Nate heard it, too, and moved in front of us. He didn’t bother knocking; he just grabbed hold of the worn-out screen door, ripped it open, and pushed through the front door like he owned the house.

  We all came to a screeching halt inside a tiny living room, made smaller by the three people presently filling the space to capacity.

  “What the fuck is goin’ on?” Nate growled.

  Poppy turned at his question and blinked. “What are you doin’ here?” she gasped, her face ashen.

  “Better question is, who the fuck is he?”

  Cali and I looked at the middle-aged man. His face was hard, scary even, and he was dressed like a biker. There was something familiar about the man. He was big and broad, had hair the color of wheat, but it was streaked with gray announcing his age. His eyes were dark brown, hiding intelligence. And even though he was in his mid-fifties, he was a good-looking man.

  He stared back at us, his eyes wandering from Poppy to me, and he smiled. Wow. His smile was like looking into the face of the sun. It warmed his features, softening the rough edges.

  Poppy turned and looked at the man, then, in a voice filled with ice, bit out, “This is my father. Wallflowers, meet David Tyler, the bastard who knocked up my mother and then disappeared from my life.”

  Cali gasped beside me, and I froze in place. A loud roaring in my ears began to drown out the noise around me, and the room tilted slightly before righting itself. I heard Nate growl, “Fuck me,” as he whipped out his phone. And I just concentrated on breathing.

  The room spun as I looked at the man. Recognition slowly crept in, but when it did, it hit me like a freight train. I looked just like him. Same hair, same eyes, same smile. And h
e was watching me with a smile on his face, as if he was proud of what he was seeing.

  How can this be?

  Cali grabbed my hand and held on tight. I squeezed it back to ground myself to reality. “It has to be him,” she whispered. “You look just like him.”

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It felt like I was on an episode of Punk’d. “Knox?” I questioned. “Is…is that your name?” I continued on a shuddering breath.

  The man with golden hair the color of mine nodded his head, mumbling, “Yeah, baby girl.”

  Nate grabbed Poppy’s hand and pulled her behind his back, then bit out in a strained voice, “Strawn, you need to get your ass over to Ms. Gentry’s house. STAT. Knox is here, and we’ve got a clusterfuck on our hands.”

  Poppy stared at Nate, confused. Her brow pulled into a sharp line, and she looked at me. “What’s goin’ on?”

  I looked at her, really looked at her for some sort of similarities. There were none. She was the spitting image of her mother. I looked back at Knox. Same hair. Same stubborn jaw. There was no way this could be true. “Are you Poppy’s father?” I asked anxiously.

  He nodded slowly.

  Poppy looked at me, her brows pulling into a line of confusion. “Why are you askin’ if he’s my father? Did you drink too much green magic at lunch?”

  I swallowed hard. Now, for the moment of truth. “Are you…are you my father?”

  Poppy gasped, “What?” looking for all the world like she thought I was nuts.

  He looked at Poppy, back at me, then smiled with eyes I looked back at daily in the mirror. “Yeah, baby girl.”

  Oh. My. God.

  I blinked. Ms. Gentry shouted, “You bastard!” and my eyes shot to Poppy. She’d turned white as a ghost as she stared at her father. Our father.

  Reaching out my hand, I whispered, “Poppy.”

  She whipped around and looked at me as if she’d never seen me before, and stepped back out of my reach, shaking her head rapidly in denial. I watched her with trepidation as the truth sank in. She seemed off balance, her eyes wide as if in shock, her face pale with bitterness and rejection as she panted. Nate had been watching her closely, so when she didn’t rail against her father for yet another deceit, he stepped up next to her and whispered something into her ear. She shook her head, her breath coming in great gasping gulps, then she tittered on her feet and reached out for Nate’s arm before her eyes rolled back in her head.

  To be continued . . .

  Stay tuned for Wallflowers: One Heart Remains

  Coming Soon!

  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:

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