Radclyffe - Sheltering Dunes

“You okay?” Mitch murmured as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Yeah,” Mica said flatly. “Just great.”

At least Flynn was out of it. Mica still couldn’t believe Flynn had come after her. Come after her and called her out over Mitch. Just remembering the blaze in Flynn’s eyes when she’d said she didn’t want Mitch touching her sent a current of excitement right to her clit. She’d been a possession all her life, but for the very first time, she liked the feeling of belonging to someone. As long as that someone was Flynn. Flynn on fire melted her.

Everything in her life had come with a price tag, but Flynn asked nothing of her, other than the truth. Funny, she’d spent her life with people who wanted part of her, but no one had ever wanted that from her before. Hector had been happy with her lies. Even her family, in some ways, had been too. She didn’t blame them for looking the other way, for pretending they didn’t know what she did, or why—but deep down inside she wondered if anyone would ever really see her. And then along came Flynn, gently and unyieldingly demanding she talk to her, reveal her secrets, share her pain. Now that she’d been touched with tenderness, held with desire, she couldn’t imagine living without it. Couldn’t imagine living without Flynn.

“Oh fuck,” Mica whispered. Flynn. Dios , she wanted her. She…“Oh no. No, no.”

Mitch stopped under the awning of a darkened storefront and nuzzled her neck. “Something wrong?”

“No.”

Mitch kissed her and murmured teasing suggestions of what he planned to do when they reached Mica’s apartment. His delivery was smooth and practiced, with just enough humor in his tone for Mica to know it was part of the act.

“I bet you get a lot of action this way,” Mica whispered in Mitch’s ear.

“You’d be surprised,” Mitch whispered back, pressing his lips to a spot below Mica’s ear.

She let him hit on her, but she wasn’t giving anything back. “What are you—about five-ten?”

“Mmm. Yeah.” Mitch kissed the corner of her mouth. “See anyone on the streets you recognize?”

“No.” Mica looked past his shoulder. No one behind them but tourists. “My couch is about five feet long. You’re going to be really uncomfortable tonight.”

“I’m heartbroken.”

She bit the underside of his jaw. “You should be happy I’m not really into this. You’d have more than a heart ache to worry about.”

He laughed. “I’ll suffer silently.”

She pulled away, shoved her hand in his back pocket, and tugged him along the street. “You have a girlfriend?”

He snugged her close with an arm around her shoulders. “More like a wife.”

“She good with this?”

“If she thought I was seriously trying to make it with you, she’d cut off my nuts.”

Mica laughed and rested her head against Mitch’s shoulder. “I like her.”

“You would, I think.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a cop.”

“Huh. I guess she’d have to be.”

“She wasn’t always.”

“Yeah?” Mica pointed up the street. “That’s my place. So what was she? Your girl.”

Mitch didn’t usually talk about Sandy when he was on the job, even though she’d been undercover with him a time or two. Maybe hearing about Sandy would settle Mica down. She’d been jumpy and wired since they’d left the Piper. Not that he could blame her, but he needed her thinking. They’d both need to be sharp if they were going to pull this off. “When I met her, she was working the streets.”

“Really.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t tell many people that, but he thought Mica would get it. Where you came from didn’t define who you were. “She’s tough. Strong. A lot like you.”

“Sounds like she might be smarter than me. Was some pimp running her?”

Mitch tightened inside but he didn’t let anything show. “No. She was independent.”

“That’s hard to do. I couldn’t manage it.”

“The two of you came from different places, but you both survived, right? She got out. So did you.”

“I’m not out yet.” Mica stopped, turned into him, and kissed him. She said against his mouth, “This is my place. Are you going to get me out, cop?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said. “I am.”

“Then I guess you better come up and sleep on my couch.”

She took his hand and pulled him up the walk. Once inside, she led him up a couple of flights of stairs and down a hall. She slowed and pointed to a door with chipped brown paint, a tarnished number 4 hanging askew, and a sliver of light edging out underneath. “That’s it, and I didn’t leave a light on.”

“Get behind me.” Mitch pulled Mica against the wall and inched up to the door. “Sounds quiet. Unlock it, but don’t open it.”

Mica nodded, slid her key silently into the lock, and slowly turned the tumblers. After Mica unlocked the door, Mitch motioned for her to back up, slid his weapon from the holster at his back, and turned the knob. He went in low, weapon first.

Flynn Edwards sat on the sofa across the room, a bottle of beer in her hand and her feet up on the coffee table. She didn’t look surprised.

“Damn it, Flynn,” Mica snapped, crowding into the small apartment behind Mitch. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“This is where I belong. You’re here.” Flynn stood and held out her hand. “I’m Mica’s girlfriend. She tells me you’re a cop.”

Mitch checked the windows and noted the shades were pulled. Flynn was smart, for someone who didn’t know much about what she was up against. She returned the handshake. “I’m Mitch. I don’t know if you know about what’s going on here, but—”

Flynn moved over next to Mica. “I gather you’re waiting for whoever is after Mica to come back. You think you can keep her safe?”

“I know I can,” Mitch said. “But you’re kind of a complicating factor.”

“I’m not going to get in the way,” Flynn said, “but I’m not going to wait on the sidelines while you put Mica’s life in danger either.”

Mica jammed her hands on her hips. “Did you think maybe you should ask me about any of this, Flynn?”

“Like you asked me?” Flynn’s eyes sparked. “Did you consider I might have a stake in this? What it would do to me if something happened to you?”

For the first time since Mitch had met her, Mica looked as if she didn’t quite know how to play things. She touched Flynn’s face with incredible tenderness.

“I never know what to do about you,” Mica whispered.

Flynn smiled and kissed her as if she were spun from glass. “Haven’t you figured out I need you yet?”

Mica stepped into her, wrapped her arms around Flynn’s waist, and rested her head against Flynn’s chest. “I don’t think so. But that’s okay. I’m working on it.”

Mitch turned away, giving them privacy. Some things were too personal to witness. He said, “Okay. Well, if you’re staying, here are the rules—” His cell rang and he fished it out of his back pocket. No one had that number except the other officers. “Mitchell.”

“This is Conlon. Where are you?”

“At Mica’s.”

“We just picked up the suspect who attacked Mica and Flynn the other night. I ran his prints. His name is José Ramirez. You know him?”

“Yeah. He’s one of Hector’s musclemen. Works out of Jersey.”

“We’ll need Flynn and Mica to ID him as the assailant, but looks like we may have what you need.”

“Definitely,” Mitch said. “He must have stayed around to finish the job. Dumb of him. Where did you pick him up?”

Reese laughed, a sharp, dangerous laugh. “The idiot was stupid enough to go to my wife’s clinic. Tory called me.”