Devil's Inferno (Blacksteel Bandits Motorcycle Club Book 3)

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

Devil’s Inferno copyright @ 2015 by Evelyn Glass. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

Book 3 of the
Blacksteel Bandits Motorcycle Club
trilogy

CHAPTER ONE

Three days had passed since they left Legacy. One last day on the road until they entered San Marta. At Tyler's prompting, they had decided to duck into a bar on this final night of journey. Miranda wasn't too sure about partying. Getting drunk sounded like a disaster waiting to happen when you were dealing with someone in a motorcycle club – not to mention the fact that that someone was also involved with a Mexican cartel.

Music thumped through the air, punctuated by chatter. Miranda glanced around the smoky bar, feeling equally vulnerable and foolish. She tried to forget about their current situation. This was just her and him, at a bar, enjoying a night together. Of course, the noise weaseled into her head and left room for little else.

The bar was small and filled to maximum capacity. People could barely move without becoming intimate with others. It was good, though. More people meant more conversation, more distractions, and an easier time fading into the background. Well, that's what movies and shows always told her, at least.

The first day on the road, Tyler insisted on alterations and disguises. For the first time in her life, she now possessed a pair of expensive sunglasses that almost took up her whole face, four pairs of hats, a variety of hair dyes for just-in-case scenarios, and enough makeup to last her decades. Vaguely, she wondered just how long Tyler intended to be on the road. Judging from the amount of disguises, they'd be on the run for decades.

She was definitely getting some lewd looks thanks to her tank top and jean skirt. Sitting alone at the table probably didn't help. Miranda felt like a barfly with her heavy makeup and her outfit, but it kept her from being recognizable off the bat. Being just another flirtation in the bar made people forget about her presence, even if there were men eyeing her hungrily. As soon as they saw Tyler coming, they wouldn't bother any further.

Overall uncertainty fumbled through her thoughts. They hadn't met any of Pete's loyal subjects on the road. She was beginning to hope their suicide ploy had worked. But there was still a worry that coiled around her thoughts, ready to strike. It lurked behind, a constant rattle amongst her mind.

She fussed with her shorter hair. It was amazing how being recognizable was a few short inches of hair, sometimes. She finally spotted Tyler - and his bleach blond hair - waltz through the crowd. He sported a pitcher of beer, two glasses, and a cocked grin.

Shamelessly, he had taken delight in their last few days. It almost felt like a vacation. A thought pinged at the back of his head, hard and hissing. No, this wasn't a vacation. If he let his guard down, Miranda could get hurt. While their three-day trip had been pleasantly uneventful, they'd soon be in San Marta.

Tyler swallowed the chill of uncertainty as he sat down at Miranda's table. He plunked the pitcher and mugs onto the table as her gaze flickered to his face.

Miranda cleared her throat, almost yelling above the bar's din, “So, how much longer ‘til we make it to San Marta?”

“We'll get there tomorrow morning,” he answered, flopping down beside her like a protective barrier to anyone leering. Tyler hadn't missed the looks other patrons gave her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he filled the mugs from the pitcher, single-handed. “I figured we could check into a motel, get dressed, then go to the bank.”

“Good plan. It's almost like you've done this before,” Miranda teased as she took the mug with less alcohol. Over their three days, she had listened to plenty of stories from Tyler. About his life, what 'law-bending' he did, what outright crime he committed even. If she were working with him, he needed to trust her. Miranda had no doubt he did, especially after some of the stories he shared. Her stomach lurched a little and she took a sniff of the beer, her nose wrinkling. The smell interrupted her suddenly uneasy thoughts about Tyler. Before leaving Legacy, she didn't realize how much beer differed from bar to bar.

Before she took a sip, Tyler snorted. He slugged back a gulp of beer, then answered her, “No, I haven't done this before, Mir. Think I make a habit of running away from my problems?”

“Well…” Miranda let the word hang in the air as she took a sip from her mug. Underneath the immediate acridity, there was something sweet lingering in the alcohol. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as the last bar's drink, after all.

He shot her a glare from the corner of his gaze, both hurt and annoyed. He didn't blame her for repeatedly reminding him, though. It had been abrupt and it had left a hole in her heart. Tyler tore his gaze away from her as the first rumble of guilt wobbled through his heart. Still, he couldn't help his barbed pout, “At least I don't stick around a dangerous situation like a fool.”

Miranda whipped around so quickly, Tyler almost feared she'd get whiplash. Her green eyes flared with rage and he resisted the urge to sink down in the chair. That was very much the wrong thing to say.

“Well, if you think that, then we should just hole up in our motel room.” Miranda's voice dropped low, but seemed to cut through the noise of the bar. Each word was punctuated with a painful chill. “’Cause, you know,
danger
.”

She pushed herself away from the table and her chair scraped noisily against the floor. He winced, but had no choice other than watching her cleave through the crowd. His words had been said out of spite. Now, he should pay the price. The bar atmosphere wasn't doing it for him tonight, anyway. Sighing, Tyler got to his feet and moved after Miranda.

* * *

Her thoughts steamed as she powered through the crowd. Her fingers curled into fists as she sought her way out of the hot and smoky bar. The last corner reaped no escape. Perhaps this side would assist her. Some fresh air would help her mood. Her lungs shriveled in her chest, suffocated from anger and heat.

Did Tyler even want her around? Or did he only agree since she wore him down? Her heart deflated at the thought. She swallowed down the bile climbing up her throat and maneuvered her way through the crowd. She needed to get outside. Heat mounted inside her, pressing down on her from every direction, making her claustrophobic.

A man turned and Miranda found herself covered in something cold, wet, and sticky. She gasped, her eyes flicking from the exit to who just spilled beer on her.

“Oh, hey, sorry!” He yelped, fumbling with his glass as he sought somewhere to set it.

“It's al lright,” Miranda sighed and glanced up at the stranger. Her heart froze and her eyes widened. She resisted the urge to tug on her newsboy cap – which wasn't even there - as Mike Franklin eyed her apologetically. Bile climbed up her throat. She couldn't string together any more words. And, all the while, the beer soaked into her shirt and bra.

He cocked his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing into a valley. “Hey, do I know you from somewhere?”

“I-I don't think so,” stuttered Miranda as her heart thudded violently against her ribcage.

He peered at her closely, before shaking his head. Another apologetic smile twitched across his lips as his face pinched with apology. “Let me go get you some napkins. Again, I'm really sorry, miss.”

Miranda sighed in relief as the bald man took off in search of napkins. Her stomach churned, thinking about how courteous Baldie had been. Then again, he had been all smiles at her apartment, too. Fighting down vomit, she stalked out of the bar. In the cold night air, she inhaled deeply. The chill sunk into her lungs, solidifying in her veins.

The heat from the bar, her anger, and her fear eased. She paced into the parking lot, running a hand through her hair. Worry clenched at her chest. What if Mike was in there, calling Pete right now? What if his unfamiliarity was an act? Surely, her makeup and haircut wasn't enough. Then again, he had been drinking – quite a lot, if his ruddy cheeks had anything to say – and the bar was dimly lit.

Still, her stomach roiled.

From the back of the bar, a figure trekked to the parking lot, advancing on her. “Mir!”

She whipped around, a finger to her lips as she hushed her companion, “Shhh, shut up!”

“What's wrong?” His eyebrows furrowed as he closed the distance between them. The street lamps caught her eyes, widened with fear and paranoia.

Her gaze flicked to the front door of the bar, feeling as if she were tempting fate as she spoke, “I just ran into Mike Franklin.”

“Who–” Tyler stopped short of asking as a mental image of Baldie slammed into his thoughts. He grabbed Miranda by her shoulders, his eyes wide and darting across her body. This was a bad idea. He shouldn't have let her come. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“I'm fine. He just spilled beer on me,” she answered, trying to ignore the pleasant warmth evoked from his reaction. “I don't think he recognized me.”

“Good, good,” sputtered Tyler, his heart still thrumming a mile a minute. He hastily patted his pockets, withdrawing the keys to the rental car. He didn't want to argue about going back to the motel room any longer. Especially not with Baldie trotting about the bar. “Let's get back to the motel.”

“Yeah,” whispered Miranda, nodding her head once. She followed Tyler through the parking lot, keeping her head down. Her gaze flicked to the front door of the bar, fearful it would be opened by a familiar face just as they beat a hasty retreat.

CHAPTER TWO

The drive back to their motel was quiet and tense. The radio buzzed quietly, the music interlaced with strong static. Miranda watched the land pass by outside her window. After her scare with Mike Franklin, she remembered her irritation with Tyler. Now, she pouted in the passenger seat, silent and brooding.

“Mir?” Tyler's voice softly pierced the veil as he pulled them into the motel parking lot. He parked the car and cut the engine. Everything went momentarily dark, only lit by a nearby streetlamp, pelleted by bugs and bats.

Miranda didn't take her gaze off the window. A bat swooped low to the lamp, briefly casting the car in darkness. “Hm?”

There was a pause. She glanced out of the corner of her eye, seeing Tyler struggle with his words. His jaw muscles throbbed in his cheek. His gaze flickered from her, to his hands, to the gas pedals, to the motel that loomed before the windshield. He seemed to be searching for his words. “I'm sorry.”

Miranda grunted. She didn't want to say 'sorry,' though it was expected. When he left her behind, it took years to get over and a night to destroy her mock closure. She was still hurt over his first exodus.

“I know it sucked, Mir,” he started as she began exiting the car. She paused, perched on the edge of her seat. “But I don't know how I can make it up to you. What can I do?”

She remained quiet, her fingernails digging into the plastic of the car door. An answer writhed on her tongue.
Never leave again, Tyler.
She shifted uneasily in her seat, knowing she couldn't verbalize her desire. Instead of answering, Miranda slid the rest of the way out of the car.

Tyler followed after her, his footsteps crunching in the gravel. Annoyance picked its way across his thoughts. Apparently, he couldn't do a damn thing to earn her forgiveness. Not that he deserved anything from her, but a bitter taste raked over his tongue.

After he kicked the motel room door shut behind him, Miranda turned to face him. Her thoughts swirled with hope and wishful thinking. She wanted him to promise he'd never leave again. She wanted him to trust her judgment. She wanted him to understand her decisions, good or bad, were hers to make.

Those strands of thoughts would never happen. Once Pete was taken care of, Tyler would surely drag her back to Legacy. Then, one night, he'd just disappear. Her fingers curled into fists, just from the mere thought, and tears pricked the back of her eyes. Even if they succeeded, was there anything that would save her from being left, again? And, if they succeeded with Pete, Tyler would still try to force her home. It was a lose-lose for Miranda.

Above their heads, the dirty electricity of the room snapped and crackled. Something crawled across the roof, its claws skittering overhead.

“Mir?” The single syllable echoed through the room. Hesitation, uncertainty, no confidence.

She blinked and shook her head. Her head was heavy with thoughts after the scare with Baldie. It made her eyelids lower in heaviness. She needed something to get her mind off all the somber thoughts. Her gaze flickered from Tyler, taking in the room. It was one of the worst motels they had the displeasure to stay at. She'd be thankful to check out in the morning. “It's the last night in this motel room.”

“Yeah, it is,” Tyler answered, not quite sure about Miranda's sudden change in attitude.

She threw him a sidelong gaze. Her gaze darkened as a teasing smile twitched at her lips. Tyler's stomach boiled with an instantaneous hormonal surge, but he was still left with confusion tickling his thoughts. “Same ritual as the last ones?”

Tyler couldn't help the small grin that tugged over his lips. His eyes danced with excitement as he asked, “You want to?”

“Today has been strenuous.” Her hand crept up his shirt, bunching a handful of cloth into a fist. She pulled and he bent slightly at the waist. She leaned close to his ear, catching his earlobe against her lips. She quickly released him, letting her hot words raze the inside of his ear, “For now, let's just have fun.”

She caught his lips as she pushed herself up on her tiptoes. Both of her hands grasped at his collar, and pulled. The buttons of his button-down shirt pinged and ricocheted in chaotic directions. Pleasure twanged through his body. Never had a woman torn his clothes from his body.

Her lips, hot and wet, worked their way down his body. From his lips, down his throat, over his chest. As she razed over his upper torso, she gently led him backward, until his legs slapped against the bed. Tyler stumbled and grunted, landing heavily on the squeaky bed. The bed frame groaned under him.

His new position didn't disturb her. Miranda gracefully descended to her knees, her hands a few steps ahead of her. As she skirted over his belly, her nimble fingers undid the button. Her gaze flickered to his face as the zipper hissed. Tyler inhaled sharply, suppressing shudders as she pinned him under her hot leer.

His pants slid down his legs and pooled around his feet. His toes curled into the threadbare motel carpet as Miranda lowered herself even farther. Her soft, pliable tongue flicked over his erection. A groan rumbled through his chest, delighting in her small ministrations. With a mind of their own, his hands trailed to Miranda's head, his fingers tangled in her hair.

She laved at his erection's peak before moving to consume more of his throbbing cock. His veins throbbed against her tongue, sending rivets of pleasure along her body. Long gone were the worries of the day. Right now, in this moment, he was writhing under her actions. That's all that mattered.

Not many thoughts permeated the fog of pleasure in Tyler's thoughts. He fought against the urge to thrust into Miranda's mouth as she lowered farther and farther until her talented mouth covered his entire shaft. When she began bobbing along his shaft, pleasure scrabbled across his synapses and took his nerves hostage.

His fingers wound tighter in her hair. His moans reached deep from his gut, the vibrations lacing over his entire body. Sparks of pleasure burst between his eyelids, ready for the finale. He couldn't stop the quickly rising release.

But, Miranda could.

She pulled her mouth free from his erection. Tyler gasped, his eyes flying open as cold air flashed over his cock. He pinned a questioning look to her. She only stared up at him, with her slick and red lips twisted into a smirk. The need on his face sent boiling heat roiling through her thoughts. “Not yet.”

Tyler didn't have a chance to argue. She climbed to her feet, her smirk twitching at the thought of giving him a show. Over her head, the tank top flew off, leaving Tyler eyeing the flimsy material of the bra. He grabbed his cock, stroking the still rock-hard member as excitement bit at his nerves. The pleasure ate away at his body, making his flesh itch in need.

She leaned over, gently wiggling out of the skirt. She hooked her underwear with her thumbs, sliding everything off her lower body. Behind her, Tyler groaned. She turned back to him, the flare of redness darkening over her cheeks as she spotted his self-pleasuring hand. Her green eyes flicked to his face and her voice dropped to a sultry purr, “Couldn't wait, hm?”

Again, Tyler didn't have a chance to collect his thoughts. Her hands curled behind her back. From the front, he watched her bra momentarily tighten against her flesh. Anticipation nipped along his thoughts. A tug, a pull, a shift. Her arms lowered, letting the bra fall to the floor. Her breasts stared him in the face, taunting him with pinked nipples and fleshy beauty.

He leaned forward, catching her breast in his lips. She whimpered, but her fingers worked their way through his hair. Tyler's tongue played with one breast, worrying her nipple gently with teeth. His hand found its way to the neglected bit of anatomy, tweaking and pulling and taunting the nipple. Miranda moaned, rocking back and forth as pleasure tickled down her body. She clenched her thighs together and delight pounded over her in waves of warmth.

He groaned against her tits, his free hand working along his hard, thick member. Tyler was getting ahead of himself. She shook his mouth away from her breasts, feeling much like the disappointed whine Tyler let out. She pushed his hand away from his groin, before climbing into his lap. She straddled him, her hot thighs taunting his nerves. Her hips rollicked and rocked, rubbing her swollen slit against his shaft.

He groaned, closing his eyes to enjoy the feel of her naked body pressed against him. A twitch coursed over his body as her nails teased over his flesh. A sudden attack on his lips teamed up with Miranda's precise hip gyrations. As his cock sunk into her soaking wet pussy, she swallowed down his moan.

The bed squeaked and rattled as Miranda rode him, her knees braced against the bed as she bounced. An arm wrapped around her middle, his hand pressing hotness across her back. His free hand maneuvered to her front, his thumb lovingly stroking her nipple. Miranda trembled, her thoughts a flurry of hormones and enjoyment.

Tyler brought his hips up in opposite time to hers. His cock drove deep and hard into her pussy. Miranda moaned against his mouth, biting her bottom lip as her own nerves danced with pleasure. His toes curled into the carpet, his muscles reverberating with impatience. Pleasure quickly built up in Tyler's body. Heat and pressure weighed down on his balls, nibbling at his thoughts and restraint.

She braced her hands on his shoulders as her movements became more desperate, more needy. The heat in her consumed her nerves, her muscles, her thoughts. Her lungs ached from heat and strain. Little mewls poured from her lips as she bounced desperately atop him. There was only one end goal in mind. Nothing else permeated the thick layer of hormones and pleasure in her head.

Fire and desire filled her, demanding a release. Her pussy trembled and pulsated around his length, delighting in an inevitable explosion. Miranda gasped and moaned into Tyler's shoulder, her fingers trembling against him. Her thighs quivered as her pussy clenched tighter erratically. Her muscles coiled and the heat dug deeper into her body.

A sudden tremor shot down her limbs. It rebounded and vibrated back along her bones as she tried to muffle the loud moan on her lips.

Even muffled, Tyler knew her decibel climbed. Excitement twitched across his body, slamming into his groin. His fingers dug into her lower back and his other hand drifted to her hips, slamming her whole body down against him. His own release hovered just on the edge.

With Tyler's forceful help, pleasure cleaved through Miranda. She gasped, and coiled forward before she arched backward. Louder moans spilled from her lips as ragged breaths ravaged her. Her reactions pushed Tyler over his own edge. He let out a groan and his tightened balls happily spilled themselves into her slit. Liquid heat poured from his cock as strings of pleasure tangled up his muscles. Tension instantly coiled and release inside Tyler.

Pleasure sunk its teeth into every inch of her limbs, her body, her core. Her pussy trembled around his cock, his cum delightful and hot inside her. Miranda bit her bottom lip, attempting to muffle her whimpering moans. She continued to rock, back and forth, atop him. Relishing in every little twitch of his cock or groan that escaped his lips.

When the tension leaked out of his body, Tyler gently stroked her back. He clutched her to him as he leaned back, bringing her atop himself. He didn't want to let her go. The golden light of afterglow completely consumed him. He didn't want to waste a second of it.

Miranda cuddled into him, enjoying the sound of his heart, beating strong, returning to its normal rate. Even the scent of his salty sweat was comforting. His muscled arms wrapped around her, pressing her further into him. She didn't complain. Being draped in him, even in the warm stickiness of after-sex, taunted her core. His hands trailed along her back, rubbing and grazing over her skin. Delight peppered her thoughts as his talented fingers rejuvenated her senses. If Tyler unintentionally teased her body any further, he'd be treated to a second round.

“You keep touching me like that and I'll exhaust you,” she warned, with a teasing lilt.

“Oh, really?” He chuckled, leaning up enough for his lips to catch her ear. His hot breath burned against her earlobe as he growled, “Is that supposed to be incentive to stop?”

Against his chest, Miranda smirked. “No, keep going.”