Sheltering Dunes by Radclyffe Page B

lost her job and gotten hooked up with a man who’d put his hands on Mica’s ass one too many times, and she’d found a new family. After she’d joined MS-13, there were no more late-afternoon walks in the park, not even the little scraggly one along the waterfront across the highway from the high-rise where she lived. Mica pulled away from the kiss before her body asked for more. “What the hell was that? If you don’t want anything—”
    “I don’t.” Flynn backed up. Her blond hair silvered in the moonlight. Her lanky body, all dangerous edges and teasing curves, shimmered like a blade. “You’re beautiful, you know.”
    Mica’s breath snagged on a lump in the middle of her chest. “Flynn—”
    “Night, Mica.”
    Her name whispered on the wind and Flynn was gone.
    Mica waited, holding her breath, her belly tight and aching, anticipating the instant when Flynn would reappear. She touched her fingertips to her middle, felt her muscles clench—an unfamiliar longing swirled in her chest. Flynn didn’t come back, and after a minute, Mica sucked in a breath, spun around, and climbed the porch. She let herself in and hurried up the dark stairs to the second-floor rear apartment. The room smelled musty and abandoned, but underneath the heavy scent of loss, she detected a hint of the sea, and hope. Leaning back against the closed door, she shut her eyes. Her face tingled from the touch of Flynn’s lips. That ache in her belly was bigger, part loneliness—that she was used to—and another part so unusual she hadn’t recognized it at first. The slow burn of desire flickered and flared. Her breasts tightened, her nipples pebbled underneath her T-shirt. Her belly quivered.
    None of the girls she’d played with, not even the ones she’d kissed in the shadows when the loneliness got too big, had made her want so much. She’d been crazy to ask Flynn to come upstairs. She couldn’t afford to let anyone inside her defenses. Especially not someone who made her forget for minutes at a time that her life was not her own.
     
    *
     
    Allie let herself into her garden apartment between Commercial and Bradford a little after one. Her cell phone finally caught a signal and she saw she had voice mail. She dropped her keys onto the table that doubled as a dining table and desk and scrolled through the short list, her heart kicking up when she spotted Ash’s number. She slid her thumb over the Listen icon.
    Hi, babe, I guess you must be asleep. Sorry I didn’t call sooner—I’m in some kind of a dead zone and can’t get a signal half the time. Talk to you in the morning. I love you.
    Allie replayed the message. Ash’s husky voice cut through her as if she hadn’t heard it hundreds of times before, leaving her awash with joy and desire and old fears. Ever since Ash had come back into her life a few weeks ago, the old wounds had started to heal, but she still had moments when she walked into the empty apartment and nearly drowned under the crushing memory of the long, lonely months after Ash left her. God, she’d been miserable. She’d very nearly slept with Flynn to push the pain away. She didn’t regret having met Flynn, having gotten close to her, but a small part of her worried she might have been using Flynn, and the guilt burned. She hit Call and waited, her stomach jittery with anticipation.
    “Hi, baby.” Ash sounded wide-awake.
    “Hey,” Allie said, moving through the living room to her bedroom without turning on a light. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”
    “No, I’m watching TV,” Ash said. “I’ve been in the car so much I needed to unwind a little bit before trying to sleep.”
    “How’s it going?” Allie pushed the speaker button, set the cell phone on the dresser, and pulled off her T-shirt. “Are you almost done?”
    “Getting there. I’ve got a couple of sites to visit tomorrow morning and then I’ll hit the last ones on my return leg. I ought to be back soon.”
    Dancing from foot to