Sheltering Dunes (7 page)

Allie blushed, a rare sight. “Jeez—uncool of me. Okay, well, I’m sorry about the way things turned out with us—”

“No, there’s nothing to be sorry for. We had a couple of really terrific dates. And I’m really glad for you.”

“You’re really scary nice, you know?”

“No, I’m not, but I can still be happy for you.”

“Someday you’ll have to tell me why you think you don’t deserve it too.”

Flynn frowned. “Deserve what?”

“Happiness.”

Reese leaned on her elbow, slowly stroking Tory’s abdomen. Tory’s face glowed in the muted light, a softness about her eyes that pulled at Reese’s heart. “You look beautiful right now. How do you feel?”

Tory turned on her side, keeping her hips slightly elevated on the pillow underneath her lower back, and kissed Reese. “I feel wonderful. How are you?”

“Sort of”—Reese lightly kissed Tory’s breast above her heart and took a deep breath—“in awe, I guess. I like doing it this way, better than in the office.” She rested her cheek between Tory’s breasts and wrapped her arm around Tory’s middle, melding the lengths of their bodies. “When I think about Reggie, and what a miracle she is, and that you did that—you created her for us.” Reese’s throat closed and she shut her eyes tightly, the surge of wonder warring with the rush of terror that always came over her when she thought about how precious Tory and Reggie were.

Tory’s fingers came into her hair, gently stroking the back of her neck. “You know, none of this would be possible without you. You create the certainty in my life, the safety in our home, the promise of our future. You give me the strength to take this all on. I couldn’t do this without you.”

“I love you,” Reese whispered.

“Oh, darling, I love you too.” Tory nestled closer, grasping Reese’s free hand and guiding it over her abdomen and between her legs. “Remember the part about giving the swimmers a helping hand?”

Reese’s hips tightened and heat kindled in her belly. She raised her head and found herself in Tory’s eyes. “Oh, I remember.” Watching Tory’s face, she slowly stroked over the delicate folds and lightly caressed her clitoris.

“Mmm, that’s good. You’re so good.” Tory wrapped her arm around Reese’s shoulders and raised her hips further. Breathing more quickly, she pressed her hand over Reese’s, guiding her fingers to the sensitive spot that always made her come. “As much as I love it when you tease me, I don’t want to wait.”

“You feel so soft, so warm,” Reese murmured, continuing to tease, refusing to speed up and stroke harder where she knew Tory needed her. “Sure you can’t wait?”

Tory nipped at Reese’s chin. “Damn you. You know what I need. Right now.” She skimmed down Reese’s back and kneaded her ass. “I want you to come with me.”

“Do you.” Reese slid her legs over Tory’s, pressing her center to Tory’s smooth, firm thigh. She was throbbing, aching, her clitoris pulsating urgently. She almost always came when Tory did—she couldn’t hold on when Tory was so totally hers. “I’m yours, you know. You’ll make me come with you.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Do it now. God, I love you.”

Tory buried her face in the curve of Reese’s shoulder as her hips rose and fell to the perfect cadence of Reese’s strokes. “Now, you’re making me come now. God. So good.”

Reese tightened her grip and held Tory close, never letting up as Tory’s hips bucked and she cried out, a breathtaking peal of joy and fulfillment. Shuddering on the edge, Reese struggled to keep her eyes open, wanting to see every second, wanting nothing in her mind, in her body, in her soul except Tory and the promise of life to come.

*

Mica ripped the cardboard box apart, flattened it with her foot, and stacked it with the others next to the Dumpster in the alley. Ten thirty. She still had another half hour to work. Maybe when she went back inside, Flynn would be gone. She didn’t want to see her questioning eyes or hear her soft, too-understanding voice. The quiet tenderness in her tone was too hard to ignore. Yeah, right—and too damn misleading. Mica grabbed another box and pulled it apart. Flynn had no reason to care about how she was feeling—even though it was a different kind of come-on than the girls who had tried to pick her up usually used. Pretty freakin’ effective too. Maybe if they’d pretended to pay a little more attention to her, had looked at her like Flynn did—like she was really
there
—and spent less time being worried about how sexy they were, she might have tumbled to one of their invitations. She was glad she hadn’t. She’d made enough mistakes getting hooked up with Hector, but what choice had she had back then, anyhow? Just sixteen, needing to fit in, needing some protection from the men and boys in the neighborhood who were eyeing her like prime territory to be claimed, needing the support of the girls who were so different from her but the only friends she had. And later she had family to think of—family to protect. She had to join the 13, and the way to join was by hooking up with a guy. Lucky for her, Hector had claimed her right away, and she hadn’t had to be passed around from guy to guy the way a lot of the new girls were. Lucky for her too that Hector had other women, had kids with other women, and he hadn’t pushed her to have one for him. Lucky, yeah right. That was her—lucky, all right. The weight of Hector’s body pressing down on her, smothering her, drove her breath from her chest and she gasped. The relentless choking pressure of him driving into her throat made her gag. Her head spun, and she grabbed the side of the metal bin for support. Not now, God, not now. Her heart galloped and spots danced before her eyes, even in the dark.

A crunching sound at the mouth of the alley grated over her skin, and she jumped, sucking in air, her chest heaving. Someone approached in the shadows, slow heavy footsteps, cautious, searching. Searching for her maybe? She expected them to come, even though with each passing day she started to hope they wouldn’t. She’d seen what happened to other girls who tried to get out of the life. They always came back, either on their own or on the end of someone’s chain. Hard to break free when all you’d ever known was the gang, when the only ones who’d ever taken care of you—even though you paid a price—were others just like you. Others who understood the laws of the street—you paid in flesh to survive, whether you were a woman or a man. The men paid with blood, the women paid with their bodies. Everyone paid with their souls. She’d run when she had nothing left to give and she couldn’t pretend anymore not to see what Hector was doing. She’d waited too long, and now she knew too much.

Easing back toward the closed door of the club, Mica kept to the shadows, willing herself to be swallowed by the dark. Reaching behind her, she felt along the cold steel door for the handle, desperate to be quiet, desperate to disappear. Sweat broke out on her forehead and ran down her face. Her stomach curdled and fear settled deep in her pelvis. She wouldn’t let them take her. She’d rather die than go back. She gripped the slick knob and turned it. The metallic click ricocheted around the narrow alley, louder than a gunshot. She froze.

A deep male voice grunted, “Hey. Where you going, baby?”

She shoved the door open with her shoulder and practically fell into the haven of the bar. She slammed the door, spun around, and scanned for an escape route. The red lights over the bar, glaring like the light bars on cop cars, hit her in the face and blinded her. Unable to focus, she scrubbed at her eyes. Which way to run? Out the back, onto the deck, and down to the beach? She might be able to hide under the piers or make it to a dark alley. Or across the dance floor and out the front door? Still plenty of people around this time of night—maybe she could hide in plain sight. She couldn’t stay here—if that was Hector’s man out there he wouldn’t care who got in his way. You didn’t run from Hector and you didn’t return empty-handed. She raced around the end of the bar and skirted across the nearly empty dance floor toward the exit. If she got out to the street before he did, she might just be able to blend into the crowd.

“Hey!” Marylou called. “Hey, Mica? Where you—”

Flynn stepped into her path. “Mica? What’s the matter?” Flynn extended a hand as if to touch her, but dropped it and fell in next to her, hurrying to keep up. “Are you all right?”

“Go away,” Mica said. “Don’t touch me.”

“I won’t. I promise. Just tell me—what’s wrong?”

Mica looked back over her shoulder. The door to the alley remained closed. There was no lock on it. If he’d wanted her, he would’ve come in. Maybe she was safer inside. Maybe he was just waiting for her to come out. She stopped just inside the door, next to the stool where the bouncer sat on the weekends. She peered through the open door and didn’t see anyone on the sidewalk outside. Panting, she pushed her hair out of her face. “Nothing. Nothing is wrong. Go away.”

“Look, you don’t have to tell me anything, okay? I’m not asking any questions.” Flynn backed up a step, as if knowing Mica needed space. “Just tell me one thing. Are you safe?”

Mica stared. She was so used to being physically dominated, the small gesture calmed her, but she wouldn’t be fooled by kindness. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I know something’s wrong. You wouldn’t have run out of the clinic this morning otherwise.”

“I already told you.” Mica pulled her defenses back around her. With every second that passed and no one came for her, the panic subsided. “I don’t have any money, I didn’t want to go there in the first place. It’s as simple as that.”

Flynn nodded. “Okay.”

Mica narrowed her eyes. “Just like that?”

“Why not?”

Maybe because you don’t look stupid, and you should know everybody lies? Mica put her hands on her hips. “What planet do you come from?”

Flynn smiled. “New Hampshire?”

Mica laughed. “Maybe that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Never mind. I have to get back to work.”

“I thought you worked at Shoreline.”

“I do. In the morning. I work here at night.” Mica headed back to the bar and Flynn followed. The brunette who had joined Flynn earlier was still sitting at the bar, watching them. Mica hated being watched. She stopped and glared at Flynn. “What do you want now?”

“Another beer?”

Flynn smiled, and man, she was beautiful when she did. Even in the partial light, her eyes were unbelievably blue. Deep and dark and really sexy. Mica remembered watching her that morning, leaning over the man on the table in the room across the hall. Flynn’s face had been so intense, as if what she was doing was the only thing that mattered in the world. As if that man was the only person who mattered. The way she’d touched him had been so gentle, but so powerful. Mica heard the words again—
Our Father who art in heaven—
remembered them from long ago, the sound echoing in the silent vastness of the church. Words that she learned meant nothing, maybe even worse than nothing. Lies, about tenderness and love and salvation. Watching Flynn with that dying man made her wonder for one fractured second if there wasn’t some tiny flicker of good that still flared somewhere in the world. She snorted at her own stupidity. Start thinking that way and you’d end up under someone’s boot. Or worse.

“Who are you, exactly?”

“My name is Flynn.”

“Yeah, I remember you telling me. But that’s not what I meant. I saw you this morning, with the guy across the hall.” Mica scowled. “What are you?”

Flynn’s jaw tightened. “I’m a priest.”

“Yeah? You can be one? When you’re a woman, I mean?”

“Yes.”

“So how come you’re riding around on an ambulance?”

“That’s a long story.”

“Huh. A priest with secrets?”

“Something like that,” Flynn said.

“So you ought to know questions can be dangerous.”

“Silence can be worse.”

“Sounds like a line.”

“It’s not a line. I don’t want anything from you.”

Mica stopped, searched Flynn’s face. “That’s bull. Everyone wants something.”

“Do you?”

Mica thought about the long walk home. About the man in the alley. About Hector’s long reach. Maybe being alone wasn’t so smart—at least tonight. If the crazy priest or whatever she really was wanted to stick around, having someone to walk her home might be a good idea. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“What?”

“I want you to have another beer, and then maybe I’ll let you walk me home.”

Flynn hesitated, then nodded. “I can do that.”

Flynn’s gaze never moved from Mica’s eyes, but Mica felt as if a hand swept over her body, caressing her. That was nuts, but her nipples tightened and her pussy clenched all the same. Flynn might be harder to string along than the girls she’d learned to play for the money they’d spend on her while trying to get into her pants, but she knew how to keep her secrets safe. She was good at that.

Flynn settled back onto the bar stool and pushed her half-finished beer away. The dark brew looked flat and empty.

“Want another one?” Allie asked.

“No. I think I’m done for the night.”

“Some kind of problem there?” Allie asked quietly, tilting her chin slightly toward Mica, who was sliding glasses onto narrow racks above the far end of the bar.