Sheltering Dunes

Chapter Eighteen

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.”

“Still, that requires a pretty high level of organization.”

Reese nodded. “Ten years ago La Mara wouldn’t have been able to pull it off. But times have changed. They’re strong, they’re organized, and they’re violent.”

“Why are we talking about this?”

“I’m pretty sure Mica has gang ties. If not now, she has in the past.”

Cold dread seeped into Allie’s stomach. “I read somewhere that no one gets out once they’re in.”

“That’s true. If she’s running, she’s in danger.”

“And so is anyone with her.” Allie wanted to jump up, tear back to Flynn’s, and kick Mica’s ass around the block for putting Flynn in danger. “You think that’s what’s going on?”

“I don’t know what’s going on. I can’t get any information until the morning. I’ve put a few calls in to my contacts in the FBI for background information. They’ll get the message first thing in the morning, and we might turn something up. I take it your searches didn’t come up with anything?”

“Not yet, but I widened the geographic area and expanded the search parameters earlier today. I was about to fill out my interview report and run down the computer checks again. Nothing popped earlier tonight.”

“All right. We still don’t have anything concrete, but the pieces I’m starting to see don’t look promising.”

“What about Flynn?”

Reese leaned back in her chair and rested her arms on the armrests, studying Allie. She knew about Allie and Flynn and knew their involvement was over now, but that didn’t mean Allie wasn’t still invested. Allie didn’t walk away from anything—especially not people she cared about. She was passionate, and passion could be a good thing in a cop. Passion fueled drive, kept a cop looking and searching when it seemed there would never be any answers. But passion sometimes clouded good judgment. “I got the impression Flynn was personally involved. But Flynn is smart. And remember, Mica hasn’t done anything illegal.”

“That we know of, yet,” Allie said.

“That’s true. But at this point, she’s a victim, and that’s how we need to go about running down our leads. As to Flynn, I think you have to trust her judgment.”

Allie pushed the chair back and rose. “Yes ma’am. I’ll get on those computer checks.” She turned and started for the door.

“Tremont,” Reese said quietly.

Allie stiffened. “Yes, Sheriff?”

“If you’re going to take the lead on this case, you’re going to need to have a clear head.”

Allie jerked around. “The lead?”

“You’re the one who picked up on something being wrong. You’ve already started the investigation. Stay with it.” Reese reached for a stack of papers. “Keep me in the loop at all times. And keep your personal feelings under wraps.”

“I’ll do that.”

Reese watched her go, wondering if she’d be able to keep her feelings for Flynn from interfering with her judgment. She needed to learn how, and there was no better time than now.

*

Flynn opened the door and flicked the switch just inside. A table lamp came on across the room, next to the faded brown sofa. Allie had been the last woman she’d had in her apartment, and they’d ended up tangled around each other on that sofa. After Mica followed her inside, she closed the door.

“Are you hungry? Need anything to drink?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Come on.” Flynn took Mica’s hand and led her through the living room, past the kitchen alcove, and down the short hall to her bedroom. She flipped another switch and a small lamp next to her bed glowed a warm yellow. “The bathroom is through that door over there. If you check the medicine cabinet, you’ll find a couple of new toothbrushes and toothpaste. Do you need a T-shirt or anything?”

Mica glanced down at her dirt-smeared T-shirt and jeans. “Yeah, guess I better.”

“I’ll get you something. Go ahead and use the bathroom first.”

After Mica disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door, Flynn slowly and laboriously undressed. She pulled on an oversized, faded Boston Bruins T-shirt and didn’t bother with anything else. By the time she’d accomplished what usually took her ten seconds, Mica was back, still in her soiled clothes. Flynn held out a soft white V-neck T-shirt. “I think this will fit you well enough.”

“Thanks.”

Flynn took her turn in the bathroom, and after washing up and brushing her teeth, she turned out the bathroom light and crossed to the bed. Mica was already under the covers, the sheet drawn across her chest. Her arms rested on top of the pale blue comforter. Her skin was an even golden brown except for the dark patches of the ink on her right upper arm and left inner forearm. A heart with a knife through it. A crescent moon wreathed in blood-red tears. Mica’s tattoos were like her, mysterious and beautiful and kissed with sadness. Flynn pulled back the covers and slid underneath. Six inches separated her from Mica in the double bed. When she turned to shut off the bedside lamp, pain shot through her right side, and she winced.

“I’ll get it.” Mica leaned up on her elbow and reached over Flynn. Her breasts brushed Flynn’s and Flynn’s nipples hardened. Mica instantly stilled.

Flynn clasped Mica’s waist, her fingers curving around Mica’s narrow middle, her thumbs pressed into her firm stomach muscles. Mica looked down at her, her eyes wide dark pools, her full mouth swollen and moist.

“You’ll want to be careful, now,” Mica warned.

“Why’s that?” Flynn’s throat was tight with wanting. Mica shifted closer, her naked thighs sliding over Flynn’s. Flynn sucked in a breath when Mica’s soft, smooth skin pressed against her center. She was wet and Mica had to feel it.

“Because you’re hurt and I’m horny,” Mica murmured.

Flynn grinned. “If I don’t move very much, I don’t hurt.”

“Then you better not move.” Mica carefully shifted, bracing herself above Flynn on her bent arms. Her pelvis settled into Flynn’s, heat against heat.

Flynn watched Mica’s face come closer and closer. She tilted her head. “I really want you to kiss me.”

“You know if we do, there might be no going back.”

Flynn tightened her arm around Mica’s hips and held her more firmly. Mica remained poised above her, waiting. Waiting for her to decide. Flynn stroked her other hand up the center of Mica’s back and buried her fingers in Mica’s hair. Mica was absolutely still, her eyes unblinking.

Flynn pulled Mica’s head down and kissed her.