Sheltering Dunes (32 page)

I love you.
The words sounded like a foreign language. Mica remembered her mother saying them when she was small. Then the men. Sometime before she was grown she’d stopped believing the words meant anything more than
I want something from you
or
I own you
. With Flynn, the words promised something completely different. Something selfless and wonderful and terrifying. The first time Flynn had said the words, she’d scarcely dared believe them. Now she wanted to hear them again and again. What was happening to her? Where had this gut-deep need for Flynn come from, and how would she ever live without her?

Flynn waited, watching her, calm as always, but now Mica recognized the fire beneath Flynn’s steady surface. Flynn burned, but her fire ran deep. Flynn didn’t hide her need, and Mica couldn’t let her burn alone. “I want you. I want you to love me, and I don’t even know if that’s right.”

Flynn exhaled hard and fast, as if she’d been holding her breath underwater. “How could it be wrong?”

“Because your loving me puts you in danger.” Mica leaned into her, helpless not to touch her. She loved the way Flynn never yielded but stood firm, absorbing all her uncertainty and fear. Guilt ate at her joy, a searing pain in her middle. “It’s not fair, bringing my troubles down on you. You could get hurt.”

“I’ll hurt a lot more if I lose you.”

Flynn’s honesty always stopped her heart. She could give her nothing less. “What I said that night—about you hurting people—that’s not true. I was afraid next time he’d hurt you. I wanted you to go away.”

“I know,” Flynn said. “But I couldn’t. I was dying inside without you.”

Mica brushed the shadows under Flynn’s eyes, hating how worn she looked. “I don’t want you to hurt.”

“Then let me love you.”

“You haven’t even asked me how I feel about you,” Mica said.

“My loving you doesn’t come with an escape clause, and there are no contingencies. I’m not going to stop loving you even if you tell me you don’t care about me.”

“Dios,”
Mica muttered, wrapping her arms around Flynn’s waist. “I’ll never say that.”

“Then I figure you’ll tell me what you need to when you want to.” Flynn cupped Mica’s cheek. “But even if you never say a word, I’ll know how you feel when you let me touch you, when you let me inside you, when you let me see your heart.” Flynn kissed her again, lingeringly, caressing her slowly, feathering her fingers over her breasts until her skin was molten.

“Flynn,” Mica groaned, “I want you so much.” She slid both hands into Flynn’s hair and pressed against her, needing to be closer than she’d ever been with anyone before. “This thing I have for you inside, it’s so huge, sometimes I can’t breathe.” She pressed her mouth hard to Flynn’s, opening to her, slipping her tongue into the soft furnace of Flynn’s mouth. She whimpered, trembling in Flynn’s arms.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Flynn eased Mica’s T-shirt from her jeans. She worked the shirt up over Mica’s head and off, dropping it along with her bra beside them on the floor. She fused her mouth to Mica’s and began unbuttoning her own shirt, until they were both naked except for their jeans, their breasts and stomachs gliding with the faint mist of desire. Flynn wrapped her arms around Mica’s waist, her fingers laced over the tattoo covering the base of Mica’s spine. “I need you, Mica. You’ve given me something I’ve never had before.”

“What? What can I possibly give you?” Mica brushed her lips over Flynn’s chest and kissed her breasts. Her tongue tingled as if a fine electrical current ran beneath Flynn’s skin, and she sucked the salty sweetness. The tangy taste of her stirred her hunger. She wanted to devour her.

“Can’t think,” Flynn moaned and lifted Mica’s mouth from her breast. She smiled shakily. “You gave me hope, Mica, when I had none. Your will, your strength, your bravery restored my faith when I was faltering.” Flynn slowly kissed her way down Mica’s body until she knelt in front of her and opened her jeans with trembling fingers. She kissed the base of Mica’s belly and pressed her cheek to Mica’s stomach. “I was so lost until I found you.”

“Baby,” Mica whispered, holding Flynn’s face to her body. She stroked Flynn’s cheek and her heart seized at the wetness on her fingertips. “I love you, Flynn. I love you.”

“Then don’t make me leave you.” Flynn gazed up at Mica, her face streaked with tears, her eyes completely undefended. “No matter what comes, let me be with you.”

Mica grasped Flynn’s shoulders and dropped down in front of her. “I’ll stay with you as long as you want me.”

“I’ll want you forever.”

“Then that’s how long I’ll stay,” Mica whispered against Flynn’s mouth.

Flynn shuddered under a wave of helpless longing. She needed something beyond words, beyond even promises. She needed Mica—heart, mind, and soul. She grasped Mica’s wrist and pressed Mica’s fingers to her bare abdomen. “Please. I need to be yours, Mica.”

Mica gasped, and hunger consumed her fears. She pushed Flynn against the bed and straddled her. Pushing one hand between them, she worked Flynn’s jeans open while she kissed her. She watched Flynn’s eyes glaze and her mouth tremble with need as she filled her. With her mouth on Flynn’s, her heart to Flynn’s, she took her in long, deep strokes. “You are mine. Always.”

*

Carmen approached Commercial Street from the beach and made his way up the darkened alley one cautious step at a time. He’d waited until midnight, when the people hurrying through the streets or lingering on the water’s edge were not likely to take notice of a lone man strolling on the shore. He hadn’t had much trouble convincing the bouncer at the dyke bar that Mia was his cousin. After he’d told her he was totally bummed that he’d just missed her and he’d lost the number she’d e-mailed him, she’d given him Mia’s address. The twenty he’d offered for her troubles probably helped her decide he was harmless. She hadn’t even questioned why he didn’t call Mia “Mica,” the name she used when telling him where Mia lived. Stupid cunt probably thought Mia was Spanish for the fake name Mia was hiding behind. The counterman in the pizza shop across the street from the bar had set him in the right direction, and now he was looking at her apartment building across the street.

He stopped abruptly in midstep. A shadowy figure materialized just inside the mouth of the alley. Might be some guy taking a leak on his way home, or he might be there for another reason. Carmen checked his watch and waited five minutes. Whoever was standing there never moved. He was watching Mia’s building too.

Ever so slowly, checking each footstep to be sure he didn’t step on a discarded soda can or kick a loose stone and give himself away, he made his way closer. Street noises from people walking by and the occasional passing car camouflaged his approach. When the moon came out from behind a bank of clouds, he detected the unmistakable outline of a weapon on the guy’s hip. The law. Why was the law watching Mia? He hoped the
puta
hadn’t gotten herself into some kind of trouble, bringing the attention of the law down on all of them.

Hector should have tracked her down weeks ago and cut her to pieces in front of the rest of the whores to remind them where they belonged, and who they belonged to, and just what happened if they forgot. As soon as he got past this cop, he’d take care of the problem, and Hector would owe him for saving his rep. When the time came for Hector to split the territory in the next expansion, he would be next in line and no one would question his promotion. Not even Hector. Slipping the sap from his back pocket, he took the last two steps quickly and swung the leather-covered weight at the back of the cop’s head. The cop went down without a sound. Carmen kept moving, shoving the sap into his pocket as he strode across the street, climbed the few steps to the porch, and pushed inside. Four mailboxes, three with names. The one without a name would be hers. Amateurs always made that mistake. Better a fake name than nothing at all. He touched the grip of the Saturday Night Special he’d picked up before leaving the city. Disposable, untraceable. One quick shot and his future was assured. He walked down the narrow hall and started up the stairs to number four.

Allie rolled over and looked at the clock for the third time in an hour.

“What’s the matter?” Ash asked.

“I guess I’m just wound up. Can’t sleep.”

“Come here.” Ash pulled Allie down into the crook of her arm, nestled Allie’s head against her shoulder, and slowly stroked her back. “Big day, long night. Takes a while to come down.”

Allie pillowed her cheek against Ash’s breast and closed her eyes. Her mind wouldn’t shut off. She kept thinking about José Ramirez and his genuine confusion over some of the questions she had asked him. “I don’t think the guy we picked up tonight was hanging around to go after Mica again. I think he was trying to figure out how to get out of town and got sicker before he could manage to leave. Why else would he risk going to the clinic?”

“Because he’s a dumb fuck?”

“Oh, that’s him, but still. He’s street-smart. He had to know he was taking a big risk seeking medical attention.”

“What did Tory say about his condition?”

“He’s not quite sick enough to need hospitalization, but he was headed there without the antibiotics she pumped into him. She said he would’ve felt pretty bad and probably wouldn’t have been able to drive even if he’d had a car. So far there’s no sign of one. The only other way off-Cape would be the bus, unless he was really dumb and tried the airport.” Allie snuggled closer, sliding her thigh over Ash’s. “He might have been afraid someone would realize there was something wrong with him if he had to spend hours cooped up with a lot of people.”

“That all makes sense. So what’s bothering you?”

“I think us picking him up tonight was a lucky break. We were looking for someone after Mica, and we know he was the one who assaulted her in the alley. Feels too easy.”

“And?”

Allie shifted, the uneasy feeling prickling up her spine again. “Maybe he’s not alone.”

“It’s been a few days since he tried for Mica, and you haven’t seen any sign of a partner, have you?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one.”

“Agreed. You haven’t aborted the plan, right? You’re still watching her, still on the lookout for someone making a move against her?”

“Yeah,” Allie said. “We’re still watching her.”

Ash tugged Allie on top of her and cradled her ass in both hands. “So what do you want to do differently?”

“Nothing, really.” Allie sighed and braced her arms on the bed. “You think I’m obsessing, don’t you?”

Ash kissed her. “No, babe, you’re a good cop and your instincts are telling you something’s off. I say listen to your gut.”

“Let me just run a quick status check.” Allie rolled away, switched on the bedside lamp, and gripped her cell phone. “Sorry, I won’t be long.”

She hit the speed dial for Smith and waited out ten rings, the prickly feeling getting sharper with each ring. Smith always answered by the third ring, and when she got voice mail she hung up. She punched in Mitchell’s number.

“Mitchell,” Dell said instantly.

“What’s going on there?”

“I’m still on Bradford, covering the back. Everything appears quiet. Why?”

“I can’t raise Smith.”

“I just talked to him ten minutes ago. He’s due for another check-in in twenty.”

“He wouldn’t leave his post.”

“Maybe his cell isn’t working. The reception up here sucks, I have to tell you.”

“Maybe, but I don’t like it. I’m coming over.”

“All right. I’ll try Smith again. If I don’t get him, I’ll notify the sheriff and go check on him.”

“I’ll be there in three minutes.” Allie jumped out of bed and threw on clothes. She hated coincidences.

*

Mica sat up in bed, rousing Flynn from a light doze.

“What is it?” Flynn asked.

“I don’t know, probably nothing. I just thought I heard…” Mica pressed her hand to the center of Flynn’s chest. “Stay here. You have your phone?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’ll be right back.”

Mica, her figure illuminated by the glow of moonlight, jumped out of bed and yanked on sweatpants. She slowly slid open the bedside drawer and removed a long, thin object. The switchblade snapped open like a shard of lightning cleaving the night sky. “Someone’s outside.”

Flynn followed, grabbed her shirt and pants off the floor, and threw them on. Her cell was in her pants pocket. “I’m calling nine-one-one.”

Mica disappeared into the other room, and Flynn’s stomach lurched. Mica had lived with the expectation of death so long she was fearless. Flynn went after her, sliding around the corner into a room lit nearly as bright as day by a blood moon. Flynn thumbed the digits on her phone. “Mica?”

The front door swung open and a shadowy figure filled the doorway.

“Flynn, get dow—”

Lightning flared. Thunder cracked. The air burned with the acrid scent of fire and blood. Mica was gone.

“Mica!” Flynn rushed forward, tripped, and went down on her knees. Lightning flashed again, red and hot this time, like a meteor shooting in the dark. Flynn’s head rang with the roar of thunder.