Radclyffe - Sheltering Dunes

“Huh. Looked like you did—when you were talking earlier.”

“Just met her this morning.”

“Okay. Well, have you decided to play ball for the fund-raiser?” Allie asked.

Happy for the reprieve, Flynn turned partway on the stool and focused on Allie. Her eyes were beautiful, and sharply appraising. Flynn wondered what she saw. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Good. I’m captaining the red team. I could use a good running back.”

“That’s what Dave said. What makes you think I can run?”

Allie grinned. “Baby, you’re built for it.”

Flynn laughed. She loved that Allie could always make her laugh. “So you say. I’ll be proud to wear the red, Captain.”

Ali squeezed Flynn’s shoulder. “Good. I’m going to head home. Ash is supposed to call.”

“Tell her I said hi,” Flynn said, finding it hurt less to say this time.

Allie smiled. “Thanks. I will.”

Flynn turned back to the bar and Mica stepped in front of her.

“Girlfriend?” Mica asked, a note of disdain in her voice.

“No. Friend.”

“I thought priests weren’t supposed to lie?”

“I’m not. She’s got a girlfriend.”

“You’re pretty good at sliding around a question, aren’t you.” Mica grabbed a wet rag and started wiping down the bar. “Since when did having one girlfriend mean you can’t have another one?”

“Doesn’t work that way for me,” Flynn said, having no idea why she was explaining. “I went out with Allie a few times, but she was still in love with someone else. That someone else showed up.”

Mica stopped, the white terrycloth balled in her fist. “You still have a thing for her.”

Flynn stopped herself before she could give the automatic response. A lie would destroy whatever chance she had of ever gaining Mica’s trust. “I think I still have a thing for what might have been. We didn’t go out that long—never got to the point of having anything serious.”

“Is there a time limit or something?” Mica snorted. “Sometimes things happen fast. Somebody gets their hooks into you and you can’t shake loose.”

“You sound like you know.” Flynn didn’t like the idea, which made no sense at all.

Mica shrugged. “No. Not me.” She started rubbing out the water rings on the bar again. “Besides, we were talking about you.”

“I’m not hung up, but I still have some feelings.”

“Yeah. I can see how that would happen.” Mica grinned, a wholly natural and captivating grin. “She’s really hot.”

Flynn laughed. “Yeah, you got that right.”

Mica paused, leaned toward Flynn. “But then, so are you.”

Flynn’s thighs tightened and a drumbeat started in the pit of her stomach. “That’s some line.”

“It’s not a line,” Mica said, leaning over a little more. Her gaze did a slow crawl down Flynn’s body. “I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

Flynn ignored the voice warning her to be careful. “I’ll be waiting.”

*

Outside Atlantic City, NJ

Hector climbed out of the rear of the Hummer and waited while his lieutenants piled out of all four doors and surrounded him, shielding him from any potential ambush. He slid his hand under his oversized Eagles jersey and felt for the Glock in his right front pocket. He brushed his fingers past the cold steel and onto his cock, taking courage from the dual symbols of his power. “Stay tight. Be ready.”

“Yo,” came a series of gruff replies. They moved forward as a phalanx toward the three men in suits and overcoats standing next to the idling limousine. The big guy in the front, Leo, watched them approach impassively. His white-blond hair was cut close to his scalp, making his massive head and neck appear even larger. His shoulders strained the seams of the expensive cashmere coat and his thighs bulged beneath his blended wool trousers. He dressed like a businessman but he looked like a thug. Hector wasn’t intimidated by the clothes. A bullet would pierce silk as easy as polyester.

“You bring the product?” Leo asked.

“In the car.” Hector hunched his shoulder toward the limo. “You have the goods?”

“Two cases. AK-47s.”

“Twenty kilos,” Hector said, “prime Colombian white.”

“Good.”

“What about the girls?” Hector asked.

Leo’s granite jaw became even stonier. “Not part of the bargain.”

“Remy said we’d get three.”

“Remy doesn’t make deals.”

Hector cupped his crotch, squeezed his balls, and brushed his hand over the Glock in his pants. “No girls, no coke.”

“No coke, no guns.”

Hector shrugged. “We can get guns from the Bloods.”

“Not like these.”

Hector shrugged again and made like he was turning away.

“Two,” Leo said. “But they been used already.”

“Done.” Virgins were nice, but after the first time, they were just like all the others anyhow. The girls the Russians supplied were worth compromising on that score—always well-trained, usually healthy, and obedient.

“Someone will drop them off tomorrow night.”

Hector signaled to Carmen. “Make the exchange.” He backed away, keeping his eye on the muscle who flanked Leo. When he was far enough away to feel comfortable, he turned his back and walked back to the Hummer. He climbed into the rear and wiped sweat from his face.

Carmen hopped in five minutes later. “All taken care of, boss.”

“Any word on Mia?”

“Ramirez got a cousin of hers to talk. She says Mia headed north. On the train, maybe.”

“Where north?”

Carmen shook his head. “She still won’t say, and Ramirez was persuasive. Could be she doesn’t know.”

“Get her cell. Mia would’ve called her. We’ll find someone who can trace the calls.”

“What you going to do when you find her?”

“Nothing,” Hector said, rubbing his palm over his dick. He was getting hard thinking about Mia and the lesson he’d need to teach her. “Just want my homegirl back home.”

*

Reese’s cell phone rang and she snatched it off the bedside table. Rolling out of bed, she padded naked out into the hall. “Conlon.”

“I’m sorry to wake you up, Sheriff,” Allie said, “but I didn’t think I ought to wait till tomorrow…”

“No problem.” Reese eased the bedroom door closed. From the amount of moonlight slanting through the skylight in the hall, she figured it was still early. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d fallen asleep so early or so deeply. “What have you got?”

“Remember you called me this morning to ask me about the girl who was hit by the van?”

“The one who left the clinic before Tory finished her evaluation. Yeah, I remember.”

“I ran her ID this afternoon, and I just checked back tonight because I was waiting on a few things. The computer system hasn’t been—”

“Yeah, I know. I’m trying to get more money in the budget to replace the whole system.” Ever since Nelson Parker had gone out on medical leave, she’d taken over as acting sheriff and, come election time, figured it would be permanent. She liked everything about the job except the politics. “You find something?”

“No,” Allie said. “That’s just the thing. I didn’t find anything at all.”

“So she’s clean.”

“No, I mean I didn’t find anything on her in the system. No credit cards, no driver’s license, no previous addresses, no Social Security number.”

Reese walked into the baby’s room out of habit. The crib was empty, and for a fraction of a second, her guts seized. Then she remembered. Reggie was with her grandmothers. Reggie was fine. Tory was asleep across the hall. Her family was safe. Her stomach settled. “So she’s either off the grid, or she’s not who she wants us to think she is.”