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.

Chapter Seven

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.

“No,” Flynn said, “no problem.” It seemed like she was saying that to a lot of people where Mica was concerned. A niggling sensation in the back of her mind warned her she was making a mistake, but she pushed the kernel of foreboding away. She didn’t know anything about Mica—good or bad. All she knew was Mica was running from something—ghosts, maybe, and there was no crime in that. She should know. Her own ghosts were only a few footsteps behind her.

“She’s cute,” Allie observed.

Flynn grinned. Allie was one of those gorgeous women who exuded sex, drew other women’s attention like a magnet, and lustily appreciated the sexual allure of females. Apparently being in a relationship didn’t squelch her natural instincts, and no reason that it should. “She is.”

“Why does she look familiar?”

Flynn hesitated. She didn’t want to hurt Mica, and as fun and casual as Allie seemed in her off-duty hours, there was much more to her than her sexy, playgirl side. She was a smart and serious cop. On the other hand, Flynn had no reason to protect Mica. As far as she knew, Mica didn’t need protection and the urge to offer it was only her own issues at work. “She’s the girl on the bicycle who was hit by that van this morning.”

“Right,” Allie said, her gaze following Mica as she worked. “I really thought she was hurt. I’m glad to see she’s all right.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I should tell her we’ve got her bike at the station. It’s pretty banged up. I don’t think she’s going to be able to ride it until she gets a new wheel and the frame straightened out.”

“She’s lucky,” Flynn said, thinking how easily the broken and twisted frame could have been Mica’s body. The image, one she’d seen over and over again on calls, brought a wave of acid rolling through her stomach. She didn’t want to think of Mica as one of those victims. As any kind of victim. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to get it back.”

“I’ll go tell her.”

Allie sauntered the length of the bar, and Flynn watched Mica as Allie approached. Her shoulders tightened, she put down the glass she’d been holding, and she flicked a rapid glance at the door behind her. She was ready to run if she had to. The evidence was unmistakable if you knew what to look for. And if Flynn could see it, so could Allie.