Sheltering Dunes by Radclyffe Page A

She would probably use anybody and anything to get what she needed. And Flynn was such a goddamn sucker. So sweet. So kind.
    Damn it, Flynn, what are you doing?
    Flynn and Mica started off again, cutting through the crowd, and Allie fell in behind them. She wouldn’t have called Reese if she hadn’t been certain something was off with Mica, and talking to her for a few minutes in the Piper had made her even more certain. The girl had been skittish, more than skittish—she’d looked like the hounds of hell were after her. That would’ve tripped her trigger even if Mica hadn’t been hanging around Flynn. She wasn’t about to stand around doing nothing and watch Flynn get dragged into something that might get nasty. If she had to traipse around town in the middle of the night, every night, to find out what the hell was going on, she would.
    And first thing in the morning, if the computers didn’t give her a lead as to the girl’s identity, she’d have to go at it the old-fashioned way. She’d convince Reese to let her bring the girl in for questioning. Reese had said to trust her instincts, and her instincts were telling her trouble, big trouble, was waiting right around the corner.

Chapter Nine
     
    “So,” Mica said, “this is it.”
    She slowed in front of a ramshackle building that once must have been an elegant captain’s house. Now, even in the weak light cast by the moon ducking in and out of the clouds, the shabbiness was hard to miss. Peeling paint, sagging porch, shutters hanging askew. She’d been lucky to get the apartment—more like a big room, really, with the bonus of having a private bathroom, and she’d used the last of her money paying the first month in advance.
    “Thanks for dinner,” Flynn said.
    Mica shook her head. “You paid, remember? So that’s my line.”
    “Tell you what,” Flynn said. “Let’s make a deal—no lines. I won’t if you won’t.”
    “What does that leave us with?” Mica asked, looking for the con.
    “The truth.”
    “Yeah, right. But why not?” She tossed the ball back to Flynn. Her play. Let’s see what she called truth. “So why the dinner?”
    “Like I said before, I enjoy your company.” And she sounded like she meant it. Looked it too—her eyes glinting in the moonlight, an easy smile making her look sexy and sleek.
    For a crazy nanosecond, Mica contemplated asking Flynn upstairs with her. She’d had a good time at dinner—a really good time. Flynn was easy on the eyes, easy to talk to, easy to be with. Too easy. She made Mica forget for minutes at a time to be careful, to be wary. Flynn even made her forget now and then to pay attention to who walked by, who followed in the near darkness, who might be waiting up ahead. Dangerous. Stupid and dangerous, all because Flynn made her forget her own rules. And now she was thinking about asking Flynn upstairs? Yeah, right.
    “Are you working tomorrow?” Flynn asked.
    “I work every day, if I can,” Mica said.
    “Then you probably have to get up early. I should let you go.”
    Flynn didn’t move away, and neither did Mica. Nothing waited for her upstairs. A silent room, an empty bed, another night when she kept the loneliness at bay by replaying the alternatives in her mind. Hector’s mocking laugh, his rough hands, the wild, crazy gleam in his eyes.
    “You want to come up?” Mica blurted. When she looked into Flynn’s eyes, she couldn’t see Hector’s.
    “I think we should stick to the original plan,” Flynn said seriously. She cupped Mica’s chin and kissed her on the cheek before Mica could jerk her head away. “Thanks for tonight.”
    Mica stiffened. Flynn’s lips were soft and warm. She smelled like autumn in the park, with just a hint of sweetness beneath the rich scent of burning leaves. Mica hadn’t walked in the park since she was ten and her mother took her and her brother and sister to the playground on the rare Saturday or Sunday she wasn’t working. Then her mother had