Sheltering Dunes (19 page)

“And you don’t know him,” Allie repeated.
Come on, give me something.

“I already said no.”

“Butler.” Allie changed tacks, hoping to catch Mica off guard. “Something tells me that’s not your real last name.”

“I already told you, I don’t know who the guy is. I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Where are you from?”

“New York City.”

“Where did you go to school?”

Mica crossed her arms. “A bunch of places. I quit before I graduated. Can’t remember them all.”

“And you came all the way here to what, work for minimum wage in a bar?” Allie got up, pushed change into the coffee machine, and waited while steaming liquid the color of muddy water filled a paper cup. She added Splenda from a shelf next to the vending machine and sat back down. She blew on the top, sipped, and wondered why coffee machines couldn’t make decent coffee. Ever. “No bars in New York City?”

“Is there some law against me working in a bar?”

“Nope.” Allie placed the coffee cup down in front of her. “No law against it at all. There is a law against lying to me, though, and I’m pretty sure you’re lying.”

Mica stared at some point past Allie’s shoulder. The message was clear. She wasn’t talking and she knew she didn’t have to.

“Whoever this guy was, he’s still around. He’ll probably be back.”

Mica’s jaw tightened. She was beautiful, even pissed off and wanting a fight.

“Did you cut him?” Allie asked.

“Yeah, I cut him.”

“Stuck him or cut him?”

Mica glanced at Allie with amused respect. “Stuck him, but not as hard as I wished I had. He blocked most of it, caught a shoulder, I think.”

“Left shoulder? Right shoulder?”

“Left.”

“How’d you get the knife away from him?”

“Asshole held it to my throat, put it right up where I could get it.”

“Pretty risky. He could have gotten you first.”

Mica shrugged. “He wasn’t trying to kill me.”

“What was he trying to do?” Mica’s face went blank, and Allie took that as a sign she was headed in the right direction. “He wasn’t interested in raping you. Men who want to rape women don’t jump couples. So if he didn’t want to kill you, what does that leave us?”

“You’re the cop.”

Allie smiled. “That I am. I’m glad you’ve got that in focus.”

“Look, I don’t know the dude. It was dark, and he was behind me. Couldn’t see him. I got nothing that will help you.”

“You shouldn’t sell yourself short,” Allie said. “You know what he wants, don’t you?”

“Got no idea.”

“Yet you know he wasn’t trying to kill you. Makes me think he wants you. Why would he want you?”

“No idea.”

“Let’s say I believe you,” Allie said, although she let disbelief seep into her tone. “Let’s say you’re right. This guy comes out of nowhere and goes after you for no good reason. You were lucky to get away. You got a piece of him. Good for you.”

Mica narrowed her eyes, looking for the trap.

“Too bad Flynn got in the middle. Maybe next time she won’t be so lucky. Maybe he won’t just beat her, maybe next time he’ll cut her throat quickly.”

“Maybe there won’t be a next time,” Mica said sharply.

She looked like she wanted to dive over the table and get her hands on Allie’s throat. Good.

“You better hope there isn’t,” Allie said. “Because if he comes after you again and Flynn ends up getting hurt, I’m not letting you walk away.”

Mica pushed her chair up and stood. “You got nothing. Except maybe the hots for Flynn.”

Mica walked out the door and Allie let her go. Mica was partially right. She had nothing, only the same suspicions she’d started with. But she had one thing she hadn’t had before—certainty that this wasn’t the end of trouble for Mica. And now that Flynn was mixed up in it, she wasn’t backing off until she found out exactly what was going on. As to having the hots for Flynn, Mica was wrong. But then, Mica was jealous.

Allie smiled. She could use that.

Allie pulled open the front door of the cruiser parked in front of the clinic. “You’ll probably be more comfortable sitting in the front, Flynn.”

Flynn took in the backseat—no inside handles, steel mesh and impenetrable plastic between the rear compartment and the front—a cramped prison cell on wheels. Her ribs ached, but the Percocet had helped dull the stabbing pain that accompanied every breath. She could move a little more easily now too. No matter how much it hurt to squeeze into that tight space, she wasn’t going to let Mica ride in there alone. “Thanks. I’ll be fine in the back.”

Allie frowned at her across the roof of the cruiser. The security lights flooded a crescent of the parking lot with harsh light, giving Allie’s sensuous features a dangerous edge. Allie glanced from Flynn to Mica, shook her head, and reached inside the cruiser to pop the rear locks. Flynn pulled the door open with her left hand and, seeing Mica hesitate, got in first. Mica finally inched in beside her and pulled the door closed.

When Allie started the cruiser, the locks snapped down. Allie’s silhouette was visible through the impregnable barrier, but they were effectively isolated.

Flynn had never been conscious of being a prisoner before, and she quickly discovered she didn’t like it. The space was claustrophobic, and just knowing that she couldn’t get out if she wanted to brought acid roiling in her stomach. Beside her, Mica sat staring straight ahead, her hands clenched on her thighs. Flynn slid toward her, wincing as the movement tugged at her damaged ribs.

“You should have sat in the front,” Mica muttered.

“Yeah, probably.” Flynn rested her fingertips on Mica’s thigh. Mica’s slender muscles were rigid. “This is pretty awful back here.”

Mica snorted, her mouth lifting into a smile Flynn guessed held no humor.

“At least nobody’s puked back here. Tonight anyhow,” Mica said.

“Geez, I hope not.”

“You can tell her to take me to my place.”

“Is that what you want?”

Slowly, Mica turned on the seat until she faced Flynn, their bodies very close. Her breath gave off the sweet tinge of alcohol and peppermint.

“You’re pretty busted up. I don’t think you’d be much good tonight.”

“Maybe so.” Flynn kept her fingers on Mica’s thigh and stroked slowly up and down. “Got any more mints?”

Mica sighed, fished a small plastic container out of her front pocket, and shook two into Flynn’s hand.

Flynn popped them into her mouth and chewed. “I still want you to come home with me.”

“Why?”

“It’s been an exceptionally crappy night, but it started out really well. Walking home with you was one of the best evenings I’ve ever had. I don’t want that part to end.”

After shooting a quick glance at the front seat, Mica cupped Flynn’s jaw and kissed her. “Didn’t anybody ever teach you not to say exactly what’s on your mind?”

Flynn slid both hands to Mica’s waist and leaned in to her until her ribs protested and she had to stop. She rested her forehead against Mica’s. “I’ve sort of been trained to tell the truth, you know? Tough habit to break.”

Mica snorted. “Not every priest tells the truth.”

“Not everyone does. You’re right.”

“Sometimes telling the truth can get you hurt.”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“We’re not talking about me.”

“Not right now.”

Mica wrapped her fingers around Flynn’s upper arms and caressed her. “You’re pretty scary the way you never give up.”

“I didn’t think you scared easily.”

“Not usually. If I could figure you out better, I’d be good.”

“Nothing to figure out,” Flynn said mildly. “I like you. I like everything about you. Plus I think you’re beautiful, and I love the way you kiss. Maybe you could do that again.”

Mica pressed her palm gently against Flynn’s side and Flynn winced. “Like I said. You’re not going to be up to doing much tonight.”

“More than you think.”

Mica kissed her again, easing her tongue between Flynn’s lips, teasing her with quick darting caresses and the slow slide of her full warm lips. She kept going, probing and stroking and playing until Flynn moaned. Mica eased back and grinned. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Flynn nodded, the heavy pall of pain and frustration lifting from her shoulders. “I guess we will.”

When Flynn settled back, she caught a reflection of Allie’s eyes in the rearview mirror, watching them. Intent, bright, unhappy. Mica shifted closer and Flynn stroked her hair. “Tired?”

Mica nodded silently, rested her head on Flynn’s shoulder, and wrapped one arm gently around her waist.

“We’ll figure this out in the morning,” Flynn said.

“Sure,” Mica whispered, not sounding very convincing.

From the front seat, Allie’s muffled voice announced, “We’re here, Flynn.”

“Thanks,” Flynn said as the locks popped up. She tried not to rush to get the door open.

The dome light came on, and Allie shifted around to look back at them. “Where do you need to go, Mica?”

Mica shot a glance at Flynn. Flynn pushed the door open, eased one leg out, and gripped Mica’s hand. “She’s not going anywhere. She’s staying with me.”

“Do you think that’s smart?” Allie asked. “Neither of you is in very good shape, and if you run into any kind of trouble—”

“We’re fine,” Flynn said gently. “But thanks.”

“Yeah, right,” Allie muttered as Flynn closed the door.

The cruiser slowly pulled away, and Flynn slid her arm around Mica’s waist. “Ready?”

Mica regarded her steadily. “Are you?”

“This is the part where you’ll have to trust me.” Flynn held her breath. She was talking about a lot more than the two of them maybe sleeping together, and Mica knew it too. This was where Mica would walk away, or take a chance. Flynn’s heart thudded in her chest, and with every passing second a cold hard stone grew in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t talk her way into Mica’s life. She couldn’t talk away Mica’s problems. But she could listen to them. And if Mica gave her a chance, she could prove she was worth the risk by staying. No matter what Mica told her.

“I don’t want the night to end either.” Mica took Flynn’s hand.

*

Allie slowly pulled away, watching Flynn and Mica make their way up the path to Flynn’s condo. Four a.m. She’d only had a few hours’ sleep after Ash had gotten home, and not much the night before, but she was wired. She set her radio to Bri’s channel and tried her. “Adam Charlie one, you copy?”

“Adam Charlie one,” Bri came back immediately.

“Anything?”

“Nothing.”

“You coming in?”

“Going to make another swing around.”

“Roger that. Thanks.” Allie switched off and drove back to the sheriff’s department where she’d picked up her cruiser earlier. Reese’s SUV was in the lot. Allie parked and went inside. The place was empty except for a civilian dispatcher manning the phones. A light shone under Reese’s office and the door was ajar, so she knocked.

“Come on in,” Reese said.

Allie pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Sorry to bother you, I saw your light.”

“No problem.” Reese gestured to the chair. “Have a seat.”

Allie pulled the straight-backed chair closer to Reese’s desk, sat, and leaned her forearms on the edge of the desk. “I didn’t get anything from Mica.”

“What were your impressions?”

Allie shrugged. “She’s been questioned before. Very cool. I think she knows something but she’s not talking, either because she doesn’t trust us or she’s involved in something she doesn’t want us to know about.”

“What do you know about La Mara?” Reese asked.

Allie frowned. “It’s a West Coast gang. I think I saw a documentary on it once.”

“It started out as a group whose main purpose was to protect Salvadorans who were being preyed upon by other factions on the West Coast, but it evolved into a gang that took advantage of the very people it was supposed to be protecting,” Reese said. “In the late nineties their reach extended through most of California and into some of the surrounding states. In the last few years, offshoots have sprung up all over the East Coast. We’ve started to see a lot of activity in Boston as well as New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Richmond.”

“We don’t see very much gang activity here, though,” Allie said. “Most of the population is seasonal. And there’s no local gang culture.”

“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean we won’t. This is still a popular place for yachts to harbor, and wherever you have high traffic volume, you have the possibility of drugs and weapons. Easy to come into port, pick up or drop off a shipment that goes out right away by land or water, and then travel on to the next destination. No one’s required to register their vessel beyond the most basic information for an overnight berth in the harbor.”