Radclyffe - Sheltering Dunes

“Flynn’s right, Allie,” Bri said quietly. “We need to soft-pedal this. We don’t want to scare her off. We need her.”

“What are you talking about?” Flynn asked. Allie avoided her gaze, and that could only mean Allie was bothered by whatever was happening, but she didn’t want to admit it. She needed to find Mica now more than ever. “What aren’t you telling me? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Allie said. “Let’s go.” As they walked through the living room, Allie asked, “What about a weapon, Flynn? Do you think she’s armed?”

Flynn hesitated. Her instinct was to say no, but she didn’t really know. Mica was scared. She’d fought to survive and she would keep on fighting, no matter what it took. “I don’t know. She might be. I’ve never seen her with a weapon.” She stopped at the door. “But you have to understand something. She’s not the evil you seek. That’s what she’s running from.”

“If that’s true,” Allie said, “then she’ll be all right.”

Flynn climbed into the rear seat, wondering what she could say to convince Mica to talk to the law. Mica hadn’t trusted her enough to stay. She didn’t even care enough about her to say good-bye. Yes, it hurt that Mica had run from her, but she understood why. Too bad understanding never erased the pain.

*

Mica threw her clothes into the gym bag she’d been living out of for the last six weeks and grabbed the cash she’d stashed in a box of tampons. Dumb to think she could slow down, stay in one place. When Esme hadn’t returned her last two calls, she should have known trouble was coming. Dios , she hoped they hadn’t hurt Esme trying to track her. Esme hadn’t done anything except encourage her to escape and give her the wad of one-dollar bills she kept hidden for emergencies. Maybe for her own escape one day. Mica’s hands shook. Someone had tracked her here, to this town, to Flynn’s. This was close, way too close. Flynn hadn’t sent a warning when she’d gone to the door, but Flynn wasn’t street-smart. She thought she could reason with people. Make sense of the world because she was good and saw good everywhere. So naïve. So amazingly beautiful inside.

Mica just couldn’t take the chance that Flynn would end up trying to handle Hector’s posse. If Hector’s men made it through the door and she wasn’t there, Flynn would be safe. And sooner or later, it would be them, or if Hector really wanted to make a statement, it would be him. And he wouldn’t hesitate to cut down whoever stood between him and her. She was as much his territory, as much his property, as the guns he sold and the drugs he smuggled and the girls he traded. She’d always known that, and at first she’d accepted it as the price she paid for his protection. Now she would never be anyone’s property again. Whatever she gave of herself would be on her own terms. She thought of how she had given her body to Flynn—not just her body, but a piece of her heart and part of her soul—with complete freedom. Flynn had given her back the freedom to choose. She wondered what it would be like to have a life with a woman like that. To live as she wanted and to share that life with someone who valued her, who cared about her, someone she could love—

Mica yanked the zipper closed on the bag. Someone else’s life she was dreaming about.

She grabbed her wallet off the dresser and yanked open the door. Flynn stood on the other side, her hand raised to knock.

“Last night was nice,” Mica said, preempting anything Flynn might want to say. “But it’s done. You told me to tell you if it was just one night. Well, it was a little more than that, but not much. I’ve got other places to be.” When she tried to shoulder past, Flynn edged in front of her and barred her way. She didn’t have much time, and Flynn, for all her gentleness, was unbending. “You don’t want to get in my way, Flynn.”

Flynn didn’t touch her, as if knowing that Mica would not tolerate being restrained. “Allie and another officer were at the door. They wanted to talk to you, Mica. Not arrest you, talk to you. If you go willingly—”

Mica snorted. “Jesus, when are you going to grow up? You believed what they said? That’s what they always say. Right before they put you in a room and close the door and leave you there without anything to drink or anything to eat or anyplace to piss. They leave you there until the walls close in, and you’ll say anything and do anything just to be treated like a human being again.” She shoved Flynn’s shoulder and Flynn stepped aside, her hands still by her side.

“They’re outside, Mica. They’ll pick you up anyway,” Flynn called as Mica hit the first stair down.

Mica spun around, fury raging through her. “You brought them here? I trusted you.”

“I know. And I trust you. I know you told me the truth. I trust you’re here and not in Philadelphia with him because you know what you have to do. You know the right thing.”

Mica straightened, considering her options. Flynn was probably telling the truth, inasmuch as she knew it. She couldn’t know what being pulled in for “questioning” was like. Maybe they didn’t plan on arresting her right now, but if they got her in a box and she couldn’t bluff her way out, she might end up behind bars all the same. She had her pay in her pocket—just short of a hundred dollars. She could get a long ways on that if she could make it out of town. But she needed to get up-Cape and had no way to do that without taking the bus. Even the ferry wasn’t running anymore. She had no time and no way out. She’d run to the end of the line.

She’d bluffed her way through all those years with Hector, and he’d never known she loathed every touch, every glance, every minute she spent with him. She could bluff her way through a couple of hours, hell, a whole day of interrogation if that’s what it took. If they knew anything, they’d be here to charge her, not talk.

She picked up her bag and started down the stairs. Flynn’s steps echoed hers.

“Mica—”

She didn’t slow, didn’t look back. “There’s nothing you can say I want to hear. Like I already told you, I don’t need a priest.”

*

Looking straight ahead and making sure her face was blank, Mica walked out the front door. Her shoulders tightened when she saw the cops. They weren’t hard to make, although they were both in street clothes. She recognized the pretty one, Allie. The one who’d dated Flynn. She flicked her gaze to the good-looking dude with her—tight jeans, short-sleeved button-up black shirt, black boots. Small breasts, lean hips. She knew plenty of girls who would go for her. They pushed away from the SUV they were leaning against and started toward her. The only way to deal with cops was to surprise them and never let them know you were scared. She crossed directly to them, meeting up a few feet from their vehicle.

“I hear you’re looking for me,” Mica said.

“That’s right,” Allie said. “We’d like to talk to you.”

“Talk?”

“Just talk,” the black-haired one said. “My name is Bri Parker. You remember Allie Tremont?”

Mica smirked. “We keep bumping into each other, so yeah, I know who she is.”

“We’d like you to come to the sheriff’s department with us,” Parker said. “We want to talk to you about Philadelphia.”

“And if I don’t?” Mica said, thinking fast. Philadelphia. So they knew who she was. If they knew that, then they knew almost everything. But they hadn’t come to arrest her. So they didn’t have much. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

“It’s a free country,” Allie said. “And you know your rights without us needing to tell you.” She spread her hands in a See? I’m being friendly and reasonable gesture. “But like I said earlier, someone tried for you once. There’s another girl who looks a lot like you lying in intensive care in Hyannis. I think they thought she was you. They almost killed her. Next time, they might not miss.”