Authors: Radclyffe
Ash spun around, grabbed the soap, and tumbled it into the soap dish while backing Allie against the tiled wall and kissing her. “I don’t have to be away to build up a powerful need for you. I just have to be breathing.”
Allie skimmed her hands over the outer edges of Ash’s breasts and rubbed Ash’s nipples with her thumbs until they tightened. “You’re going to have to hold on to that powerful need a little while longer. Can you do that for me?”
“I can do anything you want.” Ash nuzzled Allie’s neck and kissed her. “Just be careful.”
“I will be, I promise.” Allie hoped for Flynn’s sake, and Mica’s too, that this all turned out to be nothing more than a coincidence. That the assault in the alley had nothing to do with Mica’s past. She could hope for that, but she knew it was only wishful thinking.
*
Flynn lay with her head propped on her elbow facing Mica, who sat cross-legged, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands. Mica had pulled off her T-shirt and Flynn had stripped down too. The room was warm, sun coming through the window behind Mica, haloing her body in gold and leaving her face in shadows. She could see Mica’s eyes, though, dark and glittering and troubled.
“Why was that guy after you last night?” Flynn asked.
“I’m not sure,” Mica said. “He either wanted to take me back, or he wanted to make an example of me.”
Flynn couldn’t get a deep breath, not because her side hurt, but because the more Mica told her about the gang, the more her stomach tightened with dread. “What does that mean? Make an example of you?”
“When you join La Mara, it’s for life,” Mica said. “No one leaves.”
“But you did.”
“I didn’t leave. I ran away.”
“Why?”
Mica shook her head. Flynn kept catching her off guard with her questions, asking her things she couldn’t believe Flynn cared about. Like why she joined, and what her family was like, and if they knew what the gang was like. Asking her what it was like being in the gang, being a woman, being afraid. She answered things she’d never told anyone, because Flynn kept watching her with her calm, gentle expression and eyes so fierce Mica felt Flynn’s gaze heat her skin. Flynn was the most amazing combination of steady and strong. Mica reached for Flynn’s hand. Warm. Sure. “I don’t want to tell you any more. You shouldn’t know any of this.”
“It doesn’t matter what you tell me,” Flynn said, “because you’re not going back. And no one’s going to know what I know.”
“But if they find me with you, you need to be able to walk away.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Then I hope being a priest doesn’t mean you can’t lie. Because you’ll have to. You have to tell them you don’t know anything. That we just hooked up casually and you don’t know anything about me.”
“Let me worry about what I say and who I say it to.”
“I would if you weren’t so crazy.”
Flynn smiled.
“Now it’s your turn,” Mica said.
“What do you mean?” Flynn pushed some pillows together against the wall and sat up, her bare leg stretching along Mica’s.
Flynn’s skin was smooth and hot, and Mica remembered coming with her legs wrapped around Flynn’s thigh. Her breasts swelled and her clit started to ache. She wanted to straddle Flynn right then and there, kiss her and rub against her until she made Flynn make those crazy sexy noises, until she got hot and wet and came on her again. That would be the easy thing to do, a lot easier than talking. But Flynn knew things about her now that no one else did. And she wanted to know about her.
“I saw you with that sick guy the other day. I heard you praying for him—and it mattered to him. You’re a priest. What are you doing here, why aren’t you, you know, being a priest?”
Flynn traced her fingers down Mica’s arm, around the edges of the blood-red heart. “I left—not the church. Just the system.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t very good at it.”
Mica narrowed her eyes. “I think that’s bullshit. You looked pretty good at it to me. And that man thought so too. Whatever you were saying, it wasn’t just words. I could feel it across the hall. You touched him somehow, someway.”
Flynn closed her eyes against the piercing pain. She’d always known her calling, always been so sure, until her arrogance cost an unbearable price. When she opened her eyes, Mica was staring at her, demanding an answer. “I was counseling a teenager. Her name was Debbie. She thought she was a lesbian, but she wasn’t sure, and she was afraid God would abandon her if she sinned.”
“Do you think God cares?”
“No,” Flynn said, “I don’t. I think love, respect, caring—those are the things that matter. But what I think isn’t what’s important.”
“So what happened?”
“We talked. I urged her to discuss things with her parents, gave her some information on gay and lesbian youth groups where she could connect with other young adults in the same situation. We talked about God.”
“You didn’t tell her what to do?”
Flynn shook her head. “It’s not my place to dictate behavior.”
Mica laughed. “You’re kind of a strange priest.”
“At the end of our last session, Debbie said how much our talks had helped her understand her feelings. That she felt better about who she was.”
“So that’s good.”
“I thought so,” Flynn said grimly. “I was very pleased with what we had accomplished. Except the next morning she took a bottle of her mother’s prescription medication. By the time anyone realized she wasn’t in school, it was too late.”
“She didn’t tell anybody?”
“No. She didn’t call me. She didn’t tell anyone. But she left a note. A note that said she knew God wouldn’t forgive her for what she’d done, but she didn’t believe God would forgive her for who she was either.”
“Oh man, that’s bad. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t see it coming.” Flynn rubbed her face. “If I’d suspected, if I’d had the slightest idea what she might do, I could have stopped her. But I let her walk out, pleased that we were making progress. Pleased that I’d helped her. When I had utterly and completely failed her.”
“Being a priest,” Mica said softly, “that makes you a mind reader too, huh?”
“I should have known, Mica. I should have known and I didn’t.” Flynn’s chest constricted with the agony of her failure. “My arrogance, my pride, blinded me to her need. I failed her.”
“You did what you could—if she’d come to you, you would have helped her. It’s not all on you.” Mica shifted closer and slid her arm around Flynn’s shoulders. She tugged and Flynn rested her head on her shoulder. “You can’t save everyone, you know.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Flynn murmured. “But if you don’t try, what’s the point of anything?”
“Do you think you can save me?” Mica asked.
“If you’re in need of saving, you’ll do it yourself. You’re plenty strong enough.” Flynn tilted her head and met Mica’s gaze. “I don’t want to be your savior. I’m no one’s savior.”
“That’s good, because I don’t want you to be my priest.” Mica kissed Flynn slowly and thoroughly. “Even if you are one, no matter what you say about it. You can walk away from your life if you want to, but you can’t change who you are. Didn’t they teach you that?”
What do you think?” Reese asked.
Tory snuggled closer, her cheek pressed to Reese’s chest, one of her favorite positions. She loved listening to Reese’s heart. The steady, strong, unwavering beat, so much like Reese herself. She pressed a kiss to one of the many scars that were so much a part of Reese too. She might never be able to overlook them, but she understood them. She understood Reese’s need to put herself between those she loved and danger. Reese had been raised in a military family to be a soldier, and she lived the concepts that were to so many only theoretical. The words “honor” and “duty” shaped the horizons of Reese’s life and guided the actions of every day, in her family, in her job, in her dreams. Tory hadn’t expected to find a woman she could count on to be there, physically and emotionally, unendingly. The price she paid for that incredible gift was the ever-present fear that one day Reese wouldn’t come home. Joy almost always overshadowed her dread, relegating the agony to the distant recesses of her consciousness, but every morning when Reese left the house, some small part of her worried over what evil Reese would face that day and if she would put herself in the line of fire rather than let even the life of a stranger be at risk. “What do I think about what?”
“The little swimmers.” Reese stroked her hair. “Did we hit a home run?”
Tory laughed. “Well, we certainly gave them a good send-off.”
“Oh, I know I got my part right.” Reese chuckled, a comforting rumble that chased away the whisper of sadness. “A couple of times.”
“Your part. Oh really? All on your own?” Tory slapped Reese’s stomach, and muscles sang beneath her fingertips. She loved Reese’s body, the soft swell of her breasts, the taut stretch of her abdomen and thighs. She skimmed her fingertips in slow circles over the ridges and valleys and lines of past battles, other moments when she could have lost her. But she hadn’t lost her. Reese was hers. “In addition to your stellar performance and out-of-the-park winning hits, I have this feeling…”
Reese sucked in a breath. “A feeling? What kind of feeling?”
“There’s this thrumming deep inside. A kind of knowing. It feels a lot like coming home to you—comforting, peaceful, exciting.”
“That’s good, then.” Reese kissed her. “That’s great. I can’t wait until I can feel him.”
“Him?”
“Reggie asked for a brother.”
“Um, darling? She’s not two yet. Are you sure she said that?”
“Positive.”
Tory laughed. “You’ll need to tell her that’s not the kind of thing you can just order up. Even if you do think you can make the world spin just for her.”
“I don’t—spin, huh? I suppose if she asked me to—”
“You’d find a way.” Tory smiled. “I’m a little older this time around. It might be a little harder hitting that home run.”
Reese tightened her arms around Tory. “I haven’t noticed any difference. You’re still just as beautiful, just as hot, and just as sexy as ever. I’m not worried, but the nice thing about all of this is if we have to try again, it’ll be a hell of a lot of fun.”
Tory pushed up on her elbow and traced the outline of Reese’s mouth. Outside the window, the sun had climbed high in the sky. They weren’t going to sleep again. She had work waiting in the office. And ever since Reese took over as chief, she went in before the day shift started, no matter how late she’d worked the night before. The day was upon them, but right now, right this moment, she could pretend that time was all theirs. She kissed Reese. “You make me feel like the most cherished woman in the world. I don’t think I can tell you what that means to me.”
Reese framed Tory’s face and ran her thumbs along Tory’s jaw. The simple caress set Tory on fire.
“Before you,” Reese said, “a huge part of my life was just waiting to happen, and I didn’t even know it. I thought I was complete. I thought I was happy. I didn’t know there was a difference between satisfaction and happiness. I didn’t know what it meant to be fulfilled. You gave me happiness—you gave me a future that was filled with something other than war and death. You gave me Reggie, and soon, you’ll give me another gift that I’ll never have a way to thank you for.”
“You know there’s no thank you in love, right? You give, I give. That’s how it works.”
“I think that might be one of those lessons I’m not gonna be very good at learning.”
“We’ll work on it.” Tory slid on top of her and eased her thigh between Reese’s legs. She wanted her. Not to make a baby, but to celebrate who they were together. “I love you.”
Reese cupped her ass and pulled her tighter against her leg. The strength in Reese’s hands, the ease with which Reese took control, sent pleasure surging through her. Tory moaned, losing focus for a second. “I love—”
Reese’s phone rang and Tory closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against Reese’s shoulder. “Answer the damn thing.”
“Sorry.”
Tory chuckled. “Me too. Maybe we’ll still have time. If not, later.”
“Yeah. That’s a good thing about being married.” Reese slid her hand under Tory’s hair and clasped her neck as she reached for her phone with the other hand. “We’ll always have another time.”
Tory clung to that thought, needing to believe there would always be another moment when Reese was completely hers.
*
“Conlon.”
“Sorry to call so early, Chief. This is Detective Lieutenant Rebecca Frye—Philadelphia PD. I just spoke with Officer Tremont, and I believe you’ve got a person of interest up there in a case we’re working.”
“That would be the Butler girl.”
“That’s right. We believe her to be Mia Gonzales, the girlfriend of Hector Guzman, the present leader of MS-13 in our region. That would make her the highest-ranking female in the organization.”
“That might explain why she doesn’t want anyone to know who she is. You have warrants on her?”
“Not presently,” Frye said. “The Gang Control Unit doesn’t want to move on any of the higher-ups until they’ve got something solid, and getting something solid isn’t easy. This isn’t a ragtag street gang that leaves a trail a mile wide every time they pull a job. They’re smart, they’re organized, and their ranks are leak-proof.”