Sheltering Dunes (14 page)

The curtain twitched and Flynn stepped out. “It’ll be another few minutes.”

“How is she doing?”

“Concussion, probably a fractured orbit. They don’t think her jaw’s broken, though, and there isn’t any sign of internal injury.”

“That’s good, then,” Allie said, thinking nothing about this could be good.

Flynn leaned against the wall, her hands in the pockets of her navy blue uniform pants. She looked tired and worn.

“You okay?” Allie asked.

“Yeah,” Flynn said. “I just really hate this, you know?”

Allie suppressed the urge to touch her. Flynn stirred something in her, the desire to comfort and protect. But there was just enough tension still humming between them for her to know that trying to be the person to ease Flynn’s pain was a bad idea. She didn’t want Flynn, not the way Flynn needed, and they both knew it. But she couldn’t turn her thoughts and feelings off like a water faucet either. She knew where she belonged. She belonged with Ash, had loved Ash from the first moment she’d seen her, and would always love her. But Flynn was special, and Allie ached to see the unhappiness in her eyes. “How’ve you been really?”

Flynn smiled, that slow, tender smile that was so damn sexy. “I’m tougher than you think.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.” Allie remembered the night they’d almost made love in Flynn’s apartment. Flynn had moved over her with power and certainty. Flynn had been intense, passionate, in charge. Flynn might be one of the gentlest women Allie had ever met, but that gentleness covered a core of steel.

“So don’t worry, okay?” Flynn said. “I’m good. We’re good.”

“I’m glad. Really glad. So what about you and your new friend?” Allie asked, knowing that was a lame-ass way to go about things but not knowing any better way to do it.

“My friend?” Flynn pushed hard away from the wall. “You mean Mica?”

“Mica. Right. How much do you know about her?”

“Why are you asking?” Flynn had an edge in her voice.

“I was following up after the vehicular incident, and I can’t seem to find her in the databases.”

“Following up.”

“It’s my job, Flynn.”

“Maybe there’s nothing to find.”

“Yeah, that seems to be everyone’s opinion,” Allie said.

“But not yours?”

“Come on, Flynn.” Allie lowered her voice. “You have to admit her behavior is suspicious.”

“Other than skipping out on a medical exam, I can’t see that she’s done anything wrong. She doesn’t have insurance. She wouldn’t be the first person to avoid medical care because they can’t afford it.”

“If that’s all it was, I’d agree with you. But she’s evasive, she looks like she’s hiding something, and when you put that together with the fact that her ID is probably fake—you have to come up with the same answer I did. She’s either in trouble or she
is
trouble.”

“Sometimes, Allie,” Flynn said tightly, “people are just scared. Sometimes they have a really good reason to be.”

“Do you think I’ve never been scared, Flynn? Do you think I wasn’t scared when I thought Ash might have died? When I was facing down a gun in the street?”

Flynn winced. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay? I know you’re doing your job. Just don’t jump to any conclusions.”

“I won’t. I promise. But you need to promise me something too,” Allie said. “Just be careful. You’re too damn trusting, Flynn. You’re too kind.”

“You’re wrong, Allie. You don’t know me as well as you think.” Flynn sighed. “I have to get back. Call me if you find out anything from the patient?”

“I will.” Allie noticed Flynn had not answered her question. Whatever she knew about Mica, she wasn’t telling.

*

Provincetown

Mica emptied a bucket of ice into the sink underneath the bar, one eye on the front door. She felt stupid watching for Flynn to come in, and even dumber when she acknowledged the fluttery feeling in her stomach that had been there since she got to work at six thirty. She’d never gotten excited about seeing anyone before. She hadn’t really dated anyone except a couple of boys when she was eleven or twelve, and she’d figured out really quickly that they didn’t do anything for her. She’d never really thought about dating girls, even though there was a group of chicks, a girl gang, who hung out together and fucked each other and everybody knew it. Those girls had to fight a lot to keep together, but that wasn’t why she stayed away from them. She wasn’t afraid of a fight—she just hadn’t seen herself as one of them. Some of them were Hispanic, a bunch were white, some were African American, but their identity was different than hers. They were together because they were queer. She hung with her people, the ones who spoke her language—the language of the streets. She sided with the ones who understood what it was like to live where she lived, speak as she spoke, fight the same enemies. She went with the ones who just might be able to protect her. And then when she was inside, she didn’t have any choice. There were girls in MS-13 who liked other girls—she knew from the whispered hook-ups she overheard when the guys weren’t around, but they didn’t get it on openly. The girls were there to serve the men, and those who wouldn’t didn’t last very long.

And now here she was, running from the life, running
for
her life, and getting all worked up about some girl she didn’t even know. Not just any girl either. A freakin’ priest. What did that mean, exactly? How did that work? She had no reason to care that Flynn said she was coming by, but she did. Like she said, stupid.

“Hi, Mica,” Flynn said as she slid onto a bar stool.

Mica straightened, swinging the empty white plastic bucket in her right hand. She’d been watching for Flynn all night and then missed her entrance while she was daydreaming. What if Flynn had been someone else? What if she’d been one of Hector’s scouts? She was going to get herself killed. “Hey.”

“How’s it going?”

“Same as any other night.” Mica glanced down the bar. The crowd was light and the bartender was chatting with a regular. She needed an excuse to keep working and ignore Flynn, but she wasn’t really pressed to do anything right then. And she didn’t really want to ignore her. Flynn looked good. Black sweater, blue jeans, boots. Nice tight, lean body. Nice face. Really, really nice face. “You don’t look like the bar type to me.”

Flynn laughed. “I’m not sure what that is, but I mostly come in here to relax.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Most nights. But that’s not why I’m here tonight.”

Lightning sizzled through Mica’s blood. “Oh yeah? Why are you here?”

“To see you.”

Mica drew a blank. She didn’t have a comeback. She couldn’t get used to Flynn always answering a question with what sounded like simple truth. But then, how would she know what simple truth sounded like? She’d learned pretty early that what should have been simple truths never were—I love you meant I want to own you, you’re beautiful meant I want to fuck you, I’ll always be here for you meant I’ll be around as long as I get something out of it. She shivered.

“Are you okay?” Flynn asked.

Mica shrugged angrily, as if she could shake off the past. “I meant, why are you here in this town? Shouldn’t you be in a parish somewhere?”

“Could I have a beer?”

“I’m not a bartender.”

“Okay. Then how about I get a beer when the bartender is ready, and I drink it while you work. Then later, when you’re not working, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Why?”

“Because you asked. And because I want to tell you.” Flynn reached across the bar and touched Mica’s arm. Her fingertips were warm, soft. Like her lips had been. Mica’s skin tingled all over, as if electricity were shooting out from the small spots where Flynn touched, heating her body like an electric coil on a stove. “I don’t have anyone else I want to tell, Mica.”

“I don’t understand you,” Mica said.

“I’m not complicated. When I look at you, I feel things.”

Mica swallowed. This was crazy. She shouldn’t be here like this. She shouldn’t care what Flynn said next, but she did. “What things?”

Flynn smiled. “Are you sure you want to know? Some of them might be X-rated.”

“Just some of them?” Mica tried to sound dismissive, but she wanted to laugh too. Flynn made her want to laugh. No one ever had before. “Spill.”

“I think you’re beautiful. You make a spot inside my chest glow, like sunlight on my skin, only inside. I think you’re tough and strong, and that makes my heart race a little bit. Sometimes I think you’re sad, and I want to make you smile. You make me feel all kinds of things, and when I think about you, I want more.”

“If I thought you really meant all of that—”

“I do. Someday I hope you’ll believe me.”

Mica almost believed her now. Flynn was easy to believe. Flynn was going to make her weak, make her vulnerable, and if that happened, Flynn was going to get her dead.

“You don’t want to get involved with me, Flynn,” Mica said softly.

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you don’t know me.”

“Then let me. I’ll talk to you and you can talk to me. That’s how it works.”

“You don’t know how anything works in my world.”

Flynn slid her fingers down Mica’s arm and grasped her fingers. Flynn’s hold was gentle, but firm. Certain. And the heat shot lower, into Mica’s depths.

“Then teach me. Let me learn you.”

Mica trembled. Her belly flared and for a second, her head grew as light as her heart. “And then what do I do when you walk away?”

“Why isn’t it easier to start out thinking I won’t?”

Mica shook her head vehemently. “I can’t.”

“Give me a chance, Mica. Please.”

How could she say no? No one had ever given her a choice before. They’d taken or commanded or threatened. But they’d never stood before her completely open and vulnerable and given her the choice to stay or walk away. She threaded her fingers through Flynn’s and the connection felt right. Scary, but right.

“I’m on a short shift tonight. Ten o’clock?”

“I’ll wait.”

“I’ll get you that beer—draft, right?”

“You remembered.” Flynn smiled, and a blaze ignited in Mica as if Flynn had poured gas on kindling. Mica didn’t run. She was going to burn for this, but she couldn’t run from the promise in Flynn’s eyes.

Allie awakened to the sound of the lock on the front door sliding home and footsteps crossing the living room toward the open bedroom door. She didn’t turn on the bedside light. She liked waiting in the dark for Ash. One or the other of them so often returned during the middle of the night after a late shift or an out-of-town job, they’d gotten used to moving around the bedroom by memory. She liked lying under the covers, absorbing the small sounds of Ash emptying her pockets, piling change and keys and her wallet on the dresser, taking off her clothes. Those small familiar tasks of Ash coming home to her made Allie think of permanence, of an endless tomorrow. The safety and certainty of that future warmed her as much as knowing in another minute Ash’s hard, strong body would slide next to hers. Ash approached the bed, and Allie pulled the sheets back.

Ash lay down with a sigh. “Hi, babe.”

“Hi, baby,” Allie whispered.

“Sorry to wake you. I didn’t think you’d be in bed.”

“I didn’t sleep much last night, so I turned in early tonight. It isn’t late, is it?”

“Just a little after ten.” Ash turned on her side and drew Allie against her.

When Ash kissed her, the last shadows of worry and longing disappeared from Allie’s mind. Right at that moment, all she knew was Ash was here, and hers. “I love you.”

Ash stroked her back and kissed her throat. “I love you too. You okay?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Allie pulled Ash on top of her, opening her legs so Ash could settle between her thighs. She stretched beneath Ash, fitting her breasts and her belly into the solid planes of Ash’s body. “I’m really, really good right now. I bet in a few minutes, I could be even better.”

Chuckling at the not-so-subtle message, Ash braced herself on her elbows and skated her mouth over Allie’s. The feel of Allie’s warm pliant flesh, the scent of her—light and sweet with an undertone of dark orchids—went through her like a knife. Wanting her was a sweet agony she would gladly bleed for. “Jesus, I missed you so much.”

“Do you think you always will?”

“Babe, I’m sure of it.” Ash skimmed her open mouth over Allie’s breast, scraping her teeth lightly over Allie’s nipple.

Allie made a soft purring sound in her throat, the kind of sound she made when she was happy and turned on. Ash loved pulling that moan from her, almost as much she loved Allie’s cries of pleasure when she came. She rocked her hips between Allie’s, slipping her tongue deeper into her mouth, stroking slowly in all the places she knew got Allie even hotter. When she’d been away for a few days, Allie was always on edge when she got home. Allie was going to need a lot more reassurance to convince her she wasn’t walking out on her again. A lot more time, a lot more reassurance, and a lot more moments like this. Sex was more than just physical pleasure for Allie. For her too, but Allie was one of the most passionate women she’d ever met. Allie connected with others in a lot of different ways, but sex was definitely one of her most intense forms of expression. Allie absorbed sensation with every glance, pulled in emotion through her fingertips with every touch. Making love to Allie was just one way to prove she was staying—and definitely no hardship.