Reckless: Backsteel Bandits MC (18 page)

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.”

Tyler tugged at the collar of his shirt as the sun blared down on him. Bees buzzed around and the scent of flowers filed the air. Around the bank, the city of San Marta sprouted upward from the ground. Tall buildings pooled downtown, gradually becoming smaller as the city gave way to suburbs. The bank sat in a strip of buffer area between urban jungle and suburban delight. The smell of people, machines, and gas filled the air. It helped that people were constantly coming and going along the streets surrounding the bank, as well.

The constant sounds didn't help Tyler, though. Anxiety made every sound itch across his thoughts, leaving behind frustration and fear.

He stood on the sidewalk just outside the San Marta Bank as Miranda psyched herself up. Through the huge windows, it seemed the bank was exactly like the one back in Legacy. From floor plan to decor, everything mimicked Legacy's bank. That didn't help Tyler's nerves, though. His 'professional' outfit wasn't helping any, either. The button-down shirt didn't breathe and the slate colored pants were stiff and itchy. He was certain the slacks were strangling his balls, too. He resisted the urge to reach down and adjust for the fifteenth time since he put the pants on.

Miranda, on the other hand, looked like she was in her element. Her crisp outfit – a dark skirt coupled with a white blouse and a hunter green jacket – completed her air of import. The clipboard she hugged to her chest made her more official. As both an heir to bank ownership and a bank manager herself, she was utterly confident. Well, that's what he thought.

On the inside, she shuddered. Any number of things could go wrong. The bank manager inside could call security or even all her family; they could have experience with inspections and point out the flaws in her act. She steeled herself against the worries. This was her bank, just like Legacy's bank was hers. They even looked like the same bank. She took a deep breath and marched forward, into San Marta's branch.

As soon as she crossed the threshold, however, uncertainty pinched at her thoughts. The inside had the same layout as hers, but the employees were completely different. The patrons were more numerous and without names she knew. Her heart shivered. How could she think it'd be exactly the same? Of course the employees and the patrons would be different. On an intellectual level, Miranda knew that. But, the unfamiliarity still gave her pause and still sent a cold chill through her veins.

“Hello, ma'am. How may we help you?” A woman scurried up to her. Her broad smile was outlined with bright red, matching the hints of the cherry red flowers in her blouse's floral design.

“Yes, I'm here for a surprise inspection prompted by the Groves family.” Miranda forced her shoulders to relax. Plastering on her own smile, she eased into her role. An inspection headed by the Groves. It wasn't an altogether lie. She was
part
of the Groves family, after all. She motioned to Tyler, who forced a curt smile to his lips. Her mind buzzed, realizing it wouldn't be smart to introduce him by his given name. “This is my assistant, Mr. Flaherty.”

“I'll get Mr. Cross,” the woman sputtered and ducked off. Miranda could feel the eyes of the tellers float toward her as the greeter muttered and whispered her status to them. The bankers suppressed the urge to grimace and roll their eyes. No one liked inspections, in any area of business. She supposed that was a good first step. They, at least, thought the ploy was truthful.

Miranda and Tyler quietly milled about the lobby of the bank. She pretended to survey the area critically and make notes on her clipboard. She made a show of checking everything from deposit slips to the arrangement of promotional material. She even went so far to flutter papers and make marks on the papers she carried. Anything to look official.

He tried to remain nonchalant and at ease, though he felt like people were eyeing him, just waiting for him to rob the place. It made him awkward and wary. If anything made this ploy disintegrate, it'd be him.

“Ms. Groves, what a pleasure!” A ruddy-faced man with a bristling mustache chugged into the waiting area. He was rotund and chipper, almost like a cartoon character. He paused right in front of Miranda and proffered a handshake. “I wasn't aware the Groves were doing inspections!”

“Surprise,” she chuckled in forced cheer as she took his hand. His palm was surprisingly warm and smooth. After he released her hand, she adjusted the clipboard in her arms, as if to glance at some paperwork. “My father wanted to check up on a few random locations. Just going over some basic functions, checking on security protocols, and the like.”

“Oh, yes, yes,” Mr. Cross nodded his head enthusiastically. His eyes twinkled with delight and Miranda go the distinct feeling he took pride in his bank. There was a sharpness under his professional delight, though. “But, first, may I see your employee ID and another form of identification?”

* * *

In no time at all, Mr. Cross had led Miranda into the basement under the pretense of surveying the protocols with the deposit boxes. She tried to stave off her nervousness as they descended into the bowels of the bank. The farther they climbed down the stairs, the colder the chill in the air became. The lively sounds of the bank drifted away, replaced by the buzz of electricity and Mr. Cross's ramblings on security.

As expected, the bank manager had asked Tyler to stay in the lobby, since he didn't have security credentials to see the boxes. Miranda glanced at her watch, chewing on the inside of her cheek. He'd be creating a diversion soon.

About three minutes after he left, Tyler would go up to a teller. He'd ask where the closest bathroom was and disappear around the corner. Maybe he'd spend some time in the restroom, if busybody tellers were watching him. It'd be a few minutes before he could sneak out of the restroom and sneak off down the hallway. Close to the bank's side exit, where Legacy tellers went to go take a smoke break, a bright red box jutted from the wall. A quick pull, flashing lights, and an alarm.

Her grip on the clipboard tightened and her heart pounded in her chest. She made vaguely appreciative grunts and 'uh-huhs' at intervals when Mr. Cross lulled in conversation or showed her something of import.

They went through three security doors, each one opened by his ID badge. The last room was rather large with the walls lined in a grid-like pattern, thanks to the safety boxes' faces. There was enough coldness in the air to make Miranda feel as if the air conditioner were on. The light splashed across the silver walls, catching the textures in the faceplates.

In the middle of the room, a rectangular table squatted made of metal and painted a shiny black. Atop the table, a fat three-ring binder laid open. It was flipped open to a piece of paper that possessed a chart. The date, a teller's signature, the patron's signature, and the number of the box accessed spread across the sheet. Unable to help herself, Miranda glanced over the spreadsheet. The last time a safety deposit box was opened was yesterday in the afternoon. Someone by the name of 'Deidre Baxter' had opened her security box.

Mr. Cross stood off to the side while Miranda eyed the faceplates of the deposit boxes. No names were scrawled across the boxes. Obviously, for safety matters. There were numbers that corresponded to the holder. The list of patrons, and their numbers, existed in a master list elsewhere. Still, Miranda couldn't help but wonder if one of the boxes – or maybe many of them – belonged to Peter Delaney.

She could feel Mr. Cross's stare on her back. He was waiting for her slew of questions. He must have prepared daily for inspections, simply to show off his managerial skills. She puttered back to the table at the center of the room. Well, he probably expected her to ask questions. “Who has access to these safety boxes?”

“Only my most trusted and most senior tellers,” replied the man, chest puffed out in pride. He set his shoulders and seemed to stand straighter, as if he were a commander about to be given another badge.

“And they all sign the log?” She tried not to sound bored as she glanced over the sheet, once again. Not that looking at the spreadsheet helped her, in any way, but it assisted her role as inspector. There was no way to confirm whether or not Pete had a security box until they weaseled into the system. It was the same system she used at the Legacy bank and, short of stealing a random assortment of boxes, was pretty secure. Few were allowed without clearance and, those who were allowed, were supposed to sign the log. If they didn't, the security tapes would act as a back up.

“There are also various security cameras surveying this room.”

“Good, good,” muttered Miranda, absently. She clicked her pen and lifted the paper, pretending to mark something down on the clipboard. Her pen scrawled across the paper in little, scribbling circles.

A flickering light caught Miranda's attention a split second before the keening alarm blared through the air. The lights dimmed, emergency lights flickered, and an automated voice mechanically sputtered across the intercom.

“That's the fire alarm,” gasped Mr. Cross, eyebrows furrowed and concern dotting his brow. His gaze swung to the red box clinging to the wall, close to the ceiling. He shook his head and motioned back toward the stairs, “We'll need to return to the ground floor. I'm so sorry, Ms. Groves.”

“Don't be sorry, Mr. Cross. These things happen.” Miranda tried to hide her relief as she followed the bank manager up the stairs.