Sheltering Dunes (Provincetown Tales Book 7)

by Radclyffe

  “Not like I have any choice,” Mica said with her back still turned.

  “I think considering what happened, your boss will give you the day off.”

  Mica, nude, spun around with her T-shirt gripped in her hand and partially covering her breasts. Flynn’s heart plummeted at Mica’s sudden wariness. They’d been so close, so united, when they’d been making love, the distance now flamed like an open wound.

  Mica glared. “When are you going to get that the rules you live by are different than how most of us live? Maybe you never had to worry about losing a job because you had to take your kid to daycare or your grandmother to the doctor and were ten minutes late.”

  “You’re right.” Flynn pushed the covers aside and swung her legs over, halting halfway through as another tearing sensation lanced through her side.

  “You hurting?” Mica pulled on her jeans, not bothering with panties.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Doesn’t look like it. Stay there. You got aspirin or something?”

  “There’s a bottle of Motrin in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom,” Flynn said. “I wouldn’t mind having four of them. What about you? You’ve got to be sore.”

  “It’s not bad.” Mica shrugged and pulled on her T-shirt.

  “You’re a little bit hoarse.” Flynn didn’t mention the chain of faint red blotches on Mica’s neck where their attacker had gripped her. Mica would undoubtedly shrug it off, and reminding her of what had happened just seemed cruel.

  When Mica disappeared into the bathroom, Flynn got up, found her jeans, and, bending carefully, pulled them on. Shirtless, she held out her hand for the glass of water Mica brought back, along with four ibuprofen. “Thanks. Did you take some?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Jeez.” Mica’s gaze trailed down over her chest and Flynn’s nipples tightened. She couldn’t remember ever having been so sensitive to another woman’s attention. Maybe because she suspected Mica didn’t give her attention easily. She wondered if Mica had a girlfriend. The idea of someone else touching her, pleasuring her, made Flynn agitated and uneasy. There was so much she didn’t know about Mica, so much she wanted to know. And after last night, so much she needed to know.

  “Okay, so,” Mica said, “you ought to go back to bed. Didn’t the doctor say you should take it easy?”

  Flynn pulled on a cotton shirt and buttoned it halfway up. “Mica, I know last night was crazy,” Flynn paused and grinned, “and part of it was amazing, but you told me you would talk to me. I need for us to talk.”

  “I never said we’d talk.” Mica backed up as if Flynn had threatened her.

  Flynn stood still, willing to give her space, but not willing to let her put up walls. “I don’t want you to go.”

  Mica took another step back. “I’m gonna be late.”

  “Maybe you don’t remember, but I’m pretty sure you said we’d talk.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “How about us sleeping together?”

  “Is there something about it you didn’t understand?” Mica slipped into the flip-flops she’d kicked off inside the bedroom door a few hours earlier.

  “Oh, I think I understand what happened pretty well,” Flynn said. “Like I said, it was amazing. You’re amazing. I pretty much lose it the minute you touch me.”

  Mica went very still, her face hard to read, but her eyes lit up from within. “You mean that.”

  “I do. If I had any choice at all, I’d want you back in bed with me right now. I’d want to keep going, do a million things we haven’t had a chance to do yet. I told you I’d be hungry. I didn’t realize I’d be starving.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that for you,” Mica said quietly. “Take care of that hunger.”

  “We won’t know, will we, until we try? What about you? Are you hungry at all?” Flynn felt as if she were poised on the edge of a precipice. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d been the only one to need, the only one to want. She’d misjudged completely with Evelyn. She’d been so blinded by her own passion she hadn’t realized Evelyn was afraid. Afraid of censure, afraid of losing her social status, afraid of losing her position in the church. Evelyn had been willing to sleep with her but not commit to her. She’d chosen the safer route, one that Flynn had never seen coming. Evelyn had chosen her twin, who looked almost exactly like her, except that he was male and therefore acceptable. Her heart hammered wildly, as if she were waiting for judgment. “Mica? If it’s only one time, tell me now.”

  Mica closed the distance she’d created between them, pressed her hands flat against Flynn’s chest, and kissed her. Her kiss was open-mouthed, hard and demanding. Her breasts crushed against Flynn’s, her pelvis molding to her. Everything about her was hot and possessive. The ache in Flynn’s heart vanished. Even the pain in her injured side receded to a distant throb. She wrapped her arms around Mica’s waist and lifted until Mica was standing on tiptoe, straddling her thigh, riding her. The movement hurt, but Flynn didn’t care. Mica seemed to be the only medicine she needed.

  When Mica pulled away, Flynn had lost her train of thought, and that never happened to her. She fought to steady her breathing, her fingertips resting on the outer contours of Mica’s hips. “Was that a yes? Please tell me that was a yes.”

  “Yeah, I’m hungry,” Mica said. “I want you to do everything you did to me last night and more. You’re so hot when you come—I want to make you do it over and over. I can’t stop thinking about it, and I don’t know if I’m glad about that or not.”

  “I’m here,” Flynn murmured. “This can be the beginning, not the end. If you let me, I’ll stay.”

  Mica pushed away, the hot light of passion in her eyes turning to a blaze of anger. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that. You don’t know anything.”

  Flynn caught Mica’s hand before she could retreat again. “Then tell me. Help me. Please.”

  “What do you want to know? What do you think talking will prove?”

  “Tell me about the tattoo on your back,” Flynn said.

  Mica jerked. “What?”

  “The tattoo. It’s beautiful, but I wonder what it means.”

  “Forget it.” Mica turned and strode out of the room.

  For half a second, Flynn contemplated letting her go. She was pushing, maybe pushing too hard. Mica might have a very good reason for keeping her silence. If the attack in the alley wasn’t random last night, then Mica was in danger. But if Mica was in danger, Flynn needed to know why. She couldn’t help her unless she did.

  Flynn went after her. The only way to show Mica she wasn’t going to treat her the way everyone else had was not to live up to her expectations. Mica expected her to let her go. And she wasn’t going to. Flynn made it to the living room just as Mica reached the front door. “I could use coffee. How about you? I think I might have some bagels or something too.”

  Mica stopped, paused for seconds that felt like eternity, and finally spun around. “I could do with some coffee. But you are not making it. You sit your ass on one of those stools at the counter over there and tell me where all the stuff is. Then I’ll make it.”

  “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 someth
ing, 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.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  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 crim
e. 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.”