Sheltering Dunes (23 page)

“Deal.” Flynn eased onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar and directed Mica to find coffee, mugs, and the bagels. Despite everything, she was hungry for food, and she suspected Mica was too. It’d been a hell of a night.

“Here you go,” Mica said, passing Flynn a mug of coffee.

“Thanks. So are you going to tell me about the tattoo? I’ve never seen one so big or so elaborate.”

“It’s the symbol of my crew.”

“Your crew?”

“You know, the people I hang with.”

“Are we talking about a gang?”

“Yeah,” Mica said, thrusting her chin out, preparing for the pain when Flynn walked. She hadn’t planned on telling Flynn anything, but she hadn’t planned on waking up in bed with her either. Flynn just didn’t quit, and every time Mica pulled away, Flynn said something, did something, to reel her back in again. Well, now she knew. Now it was out in the open, and this was when Flynn would quit. At least it would be over quickly, and she wouldn’t have to tell Flynn anything that could get her hurt. Better to cut off any connection before they got any tighter. She was already having trouble making it out the door. She never should have let Flynn get over on her the way she had, but Flynn was so freaking beautiful. So amazing. No one had ever made her feel the way Flynn did. No one had ever touched her as if she were special. Flynn turned fucking into something she’d never thought possible. She made it miraculous. If she hung around Flynn much longer, she was going to forget who she was and what mattered.

“Does this gang have something to do with that guy attacking us last night?” Flynn asked.

Mica hadn’t expected the question. She’d thought Flynn would pull back, make small talk, and get her out of the apartment as quickly as possible. Now Flynn really seemed to want to know what was going on. Fuck, this was getting way too complicated. “I don’t know. Look, Flynn—”

“But it might?”

Mica reached for a bagel, broke it in half, and bit off a piece. If she told Flynn anything else, Flynn could get in trouble. She wasn’t going to do that. “Just let it go.”

“I want to know, Mica. It matters to me. Whatever is happening, or you think might happen, you don’t have to handle it all on your own.”

Mica dropped the bagel onto the paper plate she’d found in one of the cupboards. “You don’t think so? And just who do you think is going to come to my rescue? I know you’re a priest, and for all I know, you can really make miracles. But it’ll take more than a miracle, and I don’t think you come equipped with what it takes to handle this.”

“What does it take?”

“An assault rifle.”

Flynn flinched. “Well, you’re right. I don’t have one of those. If I did, I wouldn’t know what to do with it. But I’ve got friends who probably have something similar. You met one of them last night. Allie. If you’re in trouble, why don’t we—”

“Your
friend
Allie—if that’s what she is, is a cop. She can’t help me.”

“You’re not asking about her”—Flynn took the other half of the bagel Mica had left on the plate, cut it open, and spread some butter on it—“but Allie has a partner she’s crazy about. And that’s just fine with me—like I said, she’s a friend.”

“She’s still a cop.”

“She is. And she’s honest. She cares about what happens to people.”

Mica shook her head. “I’m not one of her people. I’m the outsider. This doesn’t have anything to do with this town or any of you.”

“It does now,” Flynn said. “It matters now because you’re here. And you’re one of us now.”

Mica stared. One of them? Why—because she worked in a restaurant and slept with one of the townies? Because she was queer, like them?

“I’m not one of you. I’ll never be one of you.”

“Are you one of them still?”

Mica thought about the tattoo on her back, about the scars on her body, about the memories she’d never get rid of. She thought about Hector’s fists lashing out and his cock driving inside her.

“No, I’m not one of them either. I don’t belong anywhere.”

“Maybe you do, and you just don’t know it yet.”

“And you think you’re going to help me figure that out?”

Flynn took Mica’s face in her hands and gently kissed her. “Maybe. Maybe you’ll help me figure it out too.”

Mica rested her cheek on Flynn’s shoulder. “I don’t see how. I’m not even sure I can help myself.”

“Call in sick,” Flynn said. “Then come back to bed and tell me the rest.”

“The guy last night in the alley,” Mica said quietly. “He’s probably just a scout. If I stick around here and anyone else comes, they won’t be as friendly.”

Flynn suppressed a shudder as ice crystallized in her blood. She wasn’t afraid for herself, not physically. But she was terrified of not being able to help Mica. “Why? Tell me why.”

“You have to understand what you’re getting into. If you get caught in the middle of this, you could get hurt. Do you get that?”

“I understand. I’m not afraid.”

Mica gripped a handful of Flynn’s shirt. “You should be. You should be fucking terrified. You should let me go right now.”

“No.”

Mica closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against Flynn’s chest. “Why not?”

This was the answer she couldn’t get wrong. Flynn stroked Mica’s hair and clasped her loosely around the waist. She wouldn’t hold her if she didn’t want to stay, but she wanted Mica to know beyond doubt that she cared. “Because I love the way you laugh. And I love the way you kiss. And I love how strong you are. You’re strong in ways I’ve never been, but you make me feel I could be. I don’t want you to go because I need you to stay.”

Mica tilted her head back and studied Flynn’s face. She brushed her fingertips over Flynn’s mouth and kissed her. “Just for a little while.”

“All right,” Flynn said softly, taking her hand, “a little while.”

Allie grabbed the phone on the first ring, slipped out of bed, and padded naked into the living room so as not to wake Ash. “Tremont.”

“Got a call to route through to you,” Smith said.

“What’s it about? I just finally got to bed.”

“I know, sorry, but I figured you’d want this. You’ve been running all those checks and something must have popped up somewhere. Got a detective down in Philly wants to talk to the lead investigator, and the file says that’s you.”

Allie’s heart jumped. Finally, something. “Great. Can you connect us?”

“Hold on…” A click and a buzzing came over the line. “Go ahead.”

“This is Officer Allie Tremont.”

“Detective Lieutenant Rebecca Frye of the Philadelphia PD.”

“How can I help you, Lieutenant?” Allie hoped she didn’t sound nervous. Ordinarily she wasn’t intimidated by brass, but detective lieutenants didn’t make callbacks for nothing. All of a sudden, she wasn’t certain what she wanted to hear. If Mica was in trouble, then she wanted to know. She wanted to prevent another episode like last night. On the other hand, if Mica
was
trouble, Flynn was going to get hurt. She’d seen the way Flynn had looked at Mica. Flynn was already hooked whether she knew it or not. Mica had been harder for Allie to read. When she’d looked into the rearview mirror and seen Mica with her head on Flynn’s shoulder, she’d been surprised. She hadn’t expected that kind of vulnerability from the tough street kid Mica obviously was. Now she found herself hoping she wasn’t going to hear something that would end up hurting either of them.

“I might be able to help you,” the cool, deep voice on the other end of the line said.

“How is that?”

“You sent out a missing persons bulletin—Hispanic female, mid-twenties, using the name Mica Butler.”

Allie squeezed the phone so hard the edges made ridge-like indents in her palm. She really was on to something, and she somehow doubted a detective lieutenant was calling back about a missing person. “That’s right.”

“What has she done?”

“Nothing that I’m aware of. She was involved in a vehicular incident, and then last night, an assault.”

“Butler assaulted someone?”

Allie searched for some clue in the detective’s voice but could find nothing. She was aware she was providing more information than she was getting, but then again, she was the one asking. “No. She and another woman were assaulted while walking home from the bar where Butler works. Could be random, but I have the feeling Butler was the target.”

“What makes you think that?”

“No attempt was made to sexually assault either woman, robbery didn’t seem to be the motive, and it didn’t have the earmarkings of a hate crime. It appeared the assailant specifically wanted Butler.”

“An abduction?”

Allie took a stab in the dark. “Or maybe a retrieval. A jealous husband maybe.”

“Do you have a computer handy?”

“I’m at home, but my personal computer is available.”

“Let me have your e-mail address and I’ll send you a file. You can tell me if your girl is our girl.”

Allie strode to the small alcove she used as an office and opened her mail program. She gave the detective her e-mail address. “May I ask what your interest in this is?”

“The file’s on its way,” Frye said. “If your girl and our girl are one and the same, you’ve got the girlfriend of the leader of the mid-Atlantic division—Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Delaware—of MS-13 up there.”

Allie’s pulse skyrocketed. She knew it. She knew something was off. “Is she wanted for anything?”

“At this point, she’s a person of interest. She might be on the run. We’re not sure.”

“Wait a minute, it’s coming through.” Allie clicked on the file and a grainy photo appeared. The girl in the image was Mica. She let her breath out and her stomach turned over. She was happy to have been right, but felt no joy in being vindicated. Whatever was going on couldn’t be good for either Mica or Flynn. “That’s her.”

“Her name is Mia Gonzales,” Frye said. “She’s twenty-three and has been in La Mara since she was fifteen.”

“Any arrests?” Allie asked. God, what was she going to tell Flynn?

“Surprisingly, no. Our intelligence is patchy, but reports are she’s smart and tough and has managed to avoid routine sweeps.”

“Maybe she’s clean.”

“Maybe. Tell me about the assault.”

Allie filled her in. “We don’t have much of anything to go on at this point.”

“I take it your population is fairly transient—tourist town?”

“The year-round population is small and we know everyone. There’s no established gang activity locally, but we’ve had our share of problems during the height of the season with drugs moving through and even some small-time arms deals.”

“I remember there was an offshore shootout a few years back. That was drug related, wasn’t it?”

“I wasn’t here then, but the acting chief was. Reese Conlon.”

“You’ve got a situation on your hands that could get nasty, Officer. We need to know what she’s doing there.”

“I can talk to her.”

“You could,” the detective said. “I’d like to speak to your chief first. Got a problem with that?”

Allie smiled. Like it would make a difference if she did. When a ranking detective wanted to speak to her boss, she didn’t have much choice. “Of course not. I can give you her number. Unless you want to wait for her to call you when she comes in.”

“I’d like to keep things moving. Let me have her number.”

Allie gave her Reese’s number.

“Thanks, and nice work, Officer Tremont. Most people would’ve just let it go.”

“Thank you, Detective.”

“I have a feeling we’ll be speaking again.”

“Any time.” Allie ended the call, went back into the bedroom, and took a clean uniform out of her closet.

“Going back to work?” Ash asked, coming up behind her.

Allie turned, wrapped her arms around Ash’s neck, and kissed her. “That was a police detective from Philadelphia. Mica—the girl with Flynn—is part of a gang there.”

“You were right, then, about something going on.”

Allie sighed. “Yeah. So why don’t I feel better about it?”

“Because you don’t want Flynn to get hurt, and something tells me you may even like Mica a little bit.”

Allie draped her uniform shirt and pants over the back of a chair and headed for the bathroom. Ash followed. When she turned on the shower and stepped under the spray, Ash came with her. She put her hands on Ash’s shoulders and said, “Turn around.”

Ash did, and Allie soaped her shoulders and back, running her hands up and down the columns of muscle, her belly heating as Ash’s ass flexed with each stroke. “There’s something about Mica that’s likable.” She massaged Ash’s neck, pressing along her spine with her thumbs, working out the knots. Ash had spent too many hours behind the wheel lately. “She’s tough and strong, but I suppose she’d have to be to survive in that environment.”

“Babe, you gotta stop touching me or you’re not getting to work for a while.”

“Is that right? Well, you were gone longer than usual, so you must be working on a deficit right now.”