OUR UNLIKELY BABY_Blacksteel Bandits MC

by Paula Cox

  As she stepped into the shower, Miranda wondered where he was staying in Legacy. Maybe she should visit him one last time. She might not get another chance to formally say goodbye.

  * * *

  As the numbers flew upward, Tyler listened to the chunk chunk chunk of the gas pump. His gaze flickered to the horizon. Bright blue skies and a cheerful sun blaze down didn't compare to the storm swirling inside his head. He couldn't even turn his gaze to the west. He knew who stood in that direction and it hurt his chest to think of her pain. Overhead, birds chirrup cheerily, unaware of his inner turmoil.

  The gas pump clanked and the numbers stuttered. Tyler sighed and shook the excess gasoline from the nozzle before pulling it from his hog. As he placed the nozzle back, he glanced at the ending number. He wrinkled his nose at the price, but it didn't matter. Jack had already gone into the station and paid for both of their pumps.

  “Alright, update time.” Jack strolled across the lot, two sodas in hand. He shoved one toward Tyler's chest and continued, in his slightly clipped tone, “Lloyd covered for us, so we owe him.”

  Tyler glanced up, inclining his head to Jack. “What'd he tell Pete?”

  “Said we were in town, barely missed us.”

  “Good guy,” grunted Tyler with a nod. It was a grudging compliment. Lloyd was the precursor to their exodus from Legacy. Part of Tyler blamed the man for yet another severance from Miranda.

  Without hearty conviction, Jack added, “That he is.”

  Silence strung taut between them. Ever since their mad dash out of Legacy, the air between them was strained. Tyler knew Jack was pissed, though the man hid it well enough. There were bigger things to worry about and they relied on one another. In an effort to ignore the tension in the air, Tyler asked, “Where's Pete think we're heading?”

  “Las Vegas,” Jack answered crisply. He took a swig of his bottle, then added, “He doesn't know we're running from him – yet.”

  “Well, he'll figure it out sooner or later.”

  “For now, we gotta head east,” Jack said, pointing to the direction they had previously been heading. Along the highway, the sun glittered off the roofs of traveling cars. The weather looked great in the distance. No clouds in sight. Somehow, it seemed all wrong to Tyler. Unaware of his partner's angst, or simply unsympathetic to it, Jack went on, “Stay out of Blacksteel territory and away from affiliates.”

  Tyler rolled his eyes and sighed, full of exasperation and annoyance. “I know the drill, Jack.”

  “You sure?” Jack's tone came out barbed. Tyler readied himself for a just reaming. Jack stepped closer, jabbing his partner with an index finger. “Cause you sure took your sweet ass time getting out of Legacy.”

  He didn't answer. His gaze crawled up Jack's finger, his arm, to his face. In the sunglasses Jack wore Tyler caught his reflection: angry, scowling, taut and tense, but eyes unseen behind his own set of specs. His mind swarmed with sour thoughts and bittersweet notions. Nasty words balanced on the tip of his tongue.

  Jack seemed to ease under Tyler's leer. He ran a hand through his hair. “Hey, is she really worth the risk, Ty?”

  Tyler swallowed his snarl. Miranda meant more than his bodily health and his life. But he couldn't risk her getting caught up in his drama. That's why the needle of guilt punctuated far into his heart, down to his very marrow. Frustrated with himself and irritated with Jack he turned sharply to his hog. Tyler swung his leg over his motorcycle and turned the key. Over the roar of his chopper, muttered, “Let's go, Jack.”

  He didn't bother waiting for Jack to jog to his own bike. Tyler revved his engine and rumbled out of the gas station parking lot. The sooner he got Legacy and Miranda behind him, the better his situation and mood would get. And Miranda would be safe.

  * * *

  Her knuckles rapped on the motel room door of 16A, yet again. After getting the motel and room number from Naomi, Miranda had made a beeline for the Sunny Ridge Motel. The weather seemed to mock her, with a cloudless blue sky and warm, happy sunlight. She could only feel bothered, stuffy, and sweaty.

  Again, her knuckles knocked against the door. Her ears ached to hear anything on the other side. The shift of clothes being put back on, the nervous whispers of a woman in bed, obscenities falling from a husky, gravely throat. Nothing greeted her auditory senses.

  A voice broke her silent despair. “They left.”

  “Wh-what?” Miranda turned and realized a housekeeper had rolled up behind her.

  The other woman offered her a pitying smile. A sudden flare of embarrassment crossed Miranda's face. How many desperate women did this housekeeper come across? And now she was part of the thousands of nameless, wretched masses. The housekeeper answered, with her soft tone, “The men who were renting that room, they left.”

  “When?” Miranda mentally winced. She was playing the part of disposable lover to a tee. Perhaps that all she really was, though. The thought sent a new wave of angst through her thoughts.

  “Last night. Real late, too.”

  “Oh, thank you,” she murmured. Using her mortification to propel herself, Miranda headed for her car with her head bowed. Tears bit at the back of her eyes as inexplicable sadness swelled in her thoughts. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She knew exactly why she was sad. He had left. Again. This time, he didn't even bother to warn her.

  Of course, closing his bank account should have been clue enough. Miranda sighed, the action made her chest twinge. She had refused to accept the reality. This was her fault. She asked him to dinner and, despite his resistance, she pressured him. There was no one else to blame for the bitter gloom that hovered over her head.

  As Miranda hopped into her car, she ground her teeth together to bid off the tears. Vaguely, she wondered if the bank needed help today. Being left alone, with her thoughts, definitely didn't appeal to Miranda.

  Prickly, angry heat and stuffy humidity bit down around her. Miranda jammed her key into the ignition and revved the engine to life. The AC sputtered on, followed by the radio. Tears burned at the edges of her vision as a sappy love song cranked from the speakers. She punched the radio off, but didn't pull out of the parking lot.

  Insecure, Miranda peeked down the length of the motel. The housekeeper was nowhere to be seen. She probably ducked into another room or trundled around the corner. She surreptitiously glanced around her surroundings. No one was close enough to matter. Her fingers flexed and curled around her skinny steering wheel. She gripped until her knuckles turned white with the hope the pressure would relieve her anger and sadness. It didn't.

  Her shoulders started to shake. Whimpers wheedled out of her mouth. The grief bubbled up from her chest, through her broken heart, and exploded into her head. Miranda slammed her forehead against the steering wheel as hot tears poured down her cheeks.

  Across the parking lot, leaning against his hog, a man quietly watched her.

  * * *

  A long day of traveling put behind them, Jack and Tyler pulled into the bar's parking lot. The town they hunkered down in was far from any big cities and off the beaten path. Weeds grew high along the gravel roads. As they entered the smoky bar, they waited for their eyes to adjust. The inside glowed red and blue, thanks to the various neon signs alight. The patrons of the bar were all burly, leather-clad, and scar-covered. No one gave the two men a second look.

  Peanuts crunched under their boots as they made their way to the bar. The clack of pool balls chattered through the air, punctuating the rowdy conversation and country music blaring from the jukebox. Despite the familiar atmosphere, nervousness nipped at Tyler's thoughts. Something was wrong. Though he didn't see anyone watching them, he could feel gazes on him. Jack exuded a similar air as he tried to casually glance about the bar.

  Someone was watching them.

  Despite the unseen threat, both of the men ordered beers. When the frosty bottles appeared and tender was exchanged, they retreated to a table. Neither exchanged a word as they settled down. Their gazes flic
kered, with exaggerated boredom, around the bar. Nothing in the atmosphere shifted.

  From the smoke-filled shadows, a figured solidified. Their boots fell heavy across the boards, peanuts crunched dismally under their weight. Tyler's blood ran cold. Was that footfall rhythm familiar? He forced himself to remain calm as he lazily swigged his beer. He didn't turn to the figure as they loomed over their table.

  It wasn't until the figure spoke, with an unstated threat laced through his words, that Tyler's blood froze into a solid block. “You boys have fun with those pretty things in Legacy?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she gazed up at Tyler. The tears burned at the back of her eyes. “You came back?”

  “Yes, Miranda,” he murmured, leaning closer. She could barely breathe as hot tingles raced up and down her body. Tyler's arms curled around her, his lips on her ear. “And I'm never leaving you, again. I love you, Miranda.”

  He caught her ear between his lips as delight exploded inside her. Her hands tangled up in his shirt, the leather kutte nowhere to be seen. She managed to piece her words together as hormones exploded over her thoughts, “I love you.”

  Tyler worked his way down her jaw, nipping at her lips. Her knees felt like jelly. She couldn't piece together a coherent thought while his lips continued their onslaught.

  Gently, his lips took hers and Tyler led her backward. As they stumbled, articles of clothing peeled from their bodies, dropping in their wake. Her heart thrummed so loudly, she just knew he could hear it. If he could, he didn't react.

  His hands roamed over her naked body, pinching and fondling every inch of her. She clenched her eyes shut and moaned against his mouth. Her own hands grazed over his shoulders and down his chest. He shuddered as she ghosted down his abdomen. The bed jarred the back of her knees and the world flew out from under her feet. Miranda gasped, flailing for a second, before Tyler's hands caught her.

  He eased her to the bed. As she sunk down into the mattress, Miranda realized it was far more cushioned than she remembered. And did she always have these pretty magenta blankets? It didn't matter. Tyler's lips were back on her, tracing a trail down her neck to her breasts. He tongued and laved her nipples, working them into hard beads. Pleasure arched her back and enjoyment strained at her thoughts.

  Tyler smirked around her rosy nipple and, suddenly, his finger parted her slit. Miranda gasped as surprise and gratification teased at her thoughts Her fingers dug into the too-fluffy mattress. He pumped his digits in and out of her, slathering her wetness over her swollen lips. The fires of passion burned in her lower tummy, stoked by his ministrations.

  Her breathing became ragged and her thoughts more disjointed. Reality slipped away and utter pleasure filled its wake. Miranda tossed her head from side to side, mewing and whimpering. Tyler's thumb stroked over her clit. Against her breast, his lips twisted into a satisfied smirk.

  Molten heat and pressure crested inside her. It threatened to tear her apart with satisfaction. A small part of Miranda didn't mind. She squirmed beneath Tyler's talented hands. Her moans rang in her ears, getting louder as inhibition shattered beneath her impassioned need. Tyler murmured against her nipples, “Come for me, baby.”

  Her moans turned to screams of delight. Her body rollicked and shuddered under her attempts to stave off the release. Pleasure crashed repeatedly into her, demanding acknowledgment. Her nerves fizzed and popped with erotic fire. She couldn't hold it down any longer and threw her head back against the mattress, arching her back under Tyler. He continued to murmur encouragements, naught and thought searing, to her flesh. She let out a scream and–

  She shot straight up in bed, the keening warble of her alarm cock shattering dream-Tyler's last words. Miranda licked her lips as her heart rate lowered. An ache pounded through her chest as she realized it all had been a dream. A light sheen of sweat kissed her flesh and her panties felt obscenely damp. Her face flared with a blush. Frustration and anger puckered her thoughts as she slid out of bed.

  Exhaustion sunk its fangs into her eyes as she gathered her clothes for the day. Nearly a month had passed since Tyler skipped town. The pain in her heart faded, but Miranda knew it would be back. It always came back. The throbbing ache was the same as the last time Tyler left. It lingered and threaded moments of her entire day. Last time, though, she found solace in sleep. Her heart hadn't learned its lesson and, worse, it seemed hurt more than last time.

  Miranda shoved the thoughts out of her head as she headed to the shower. No, she wasn't going to think of Tyler. Not right now. She'd have enough woe to wade through over the course of the day. She didn't want to dwell on it, if she could help it.

  After turning on the showerhead, Miranda stripped her nightclothes off and stepped under the torrent of water. The warmth eased the annoyance from her muscles. She closed her eyes and sighed happily. Her heart whined a little, thinking about how they never had a chance to have shower sex, like in her dream. Miranda's eyes snapped open. Her jaw stiffened and her teeth gnashed together as she mechanically went about her hygiene routine.

  Why couldn't she shake that redheaded troublemaker from her thoughts? Miranda grasped the shampoo bottle, spilling too much liquid into her hand. He had meandered through her thoughts, since he left. It didn't seem to lessen. The only thing she could do was focus on washing up, letting the tattoo of the water drown out her unwanted thoughts.

  Autopilot led Miranda through her routine as she struggled to keep thoughts of Tyler far, far away. She had made it out of the shower, through getting dressed, and finished eating breakfast before more troublesome thoughts pummeled her head.

  Where had he gone? Was he all right? Why had he even come back? The musings churned and whipped around Miranda's psyche. Even as she stood and cleaned her plate, the thoughts buzzed at the back of her head. After tonight, a long night at the bar sounded sublime.

  As soon as she thought of the Firebird Bar, her mind coaxed memories from her head. She hissed and dumped her plates into the sink, the clatter dispersing the recollections. There was no time for this foolishness. She needed to get to work.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Stepping out of the motel, Tyler groaned and stretched his arms over his head. His vertebrae popped down his back. Pain skittered along his nerves, but he had gotten used to it. The chill of the early morning misted around his feet as he stepped onto the damp concrete. Cars trundled up and down the nearby highway, adding the scream of speed to the morning symphony. A melancholy tickled at his thoughts as his gaze drifted along the horizon.

  Three weeks had passed since he stepped foot in Legacy. Miranda's face briefly flashed through Tyler's thoughts, but he shook his head. No, he couldn’t think of her. That would lead to aches and urges. He wasn't sure how long he could defy his whims. The same pain clamped on his heart the first time he left Legacy. This time, though, Tyler wasn't sure he could drown it out with cheap booze and loud broads in dank bars.

  Hell, he hadn't even set foot in a bar since the 'incident.' Tyler bristled as his mind pictured the bar and the opposing bikers. They had been lackeys of Pete's and associates of the Blacksteel Bandits, a local gang with more smarts in their cellphones than in their own heads.

  But, brains weren't needed to lead two wayward brothers out into the parking lot to beat some sense into them. Outnumbered, four to one, Jack and Tyler had little choice. While two men held them, two more soundly throttled them with fists and steel-toed boots. The bruises, faded from weeks of healing, still ached across Tyler's body.

  Luckily, Lloyd saved their asses. His hog roared into the parking lot, shattering the bloodlust in the air. When he cut the engine, a deathly silence descended, interrupted by Jack's bloodied hack. Lloyd was the favorite in line to inherit the Bandit presidency. Everyone knew Lloyd. That's why the local bikers lowered their fists and released the two men.

  Although, it wasn't a reprieve. Lloyd demanded more evidence to take down Pete. And, while Jack and Tyler flounder
ed for more evidence, Naomi and Miranda were guaranteed safety. Lloyd had the decency – or, perhaps, indecency – to write the women off as meaningless flings to the rest of the crew, but that wouldn't last too long. Especially if they returned to Legacy.

  But, Tyler couldn't see any other option. They needed proof about Pete's trickery and Miranda had ties to her family's line of banks. Although, he couldn't be sure she could help, he was fairly confident. It was little known that her family owned most of the solitary banks throughout the nation. At one point in his life, the very fact made his stomach churn. Now, it would play to his favor.

  The very thought left a bitter taste in Tyler's mouth.

  Behind him, someone stirred in the doorway of the motel room. “Hey, you sure you want to do this?”