Miranda awoke to the sound of a car door slamming outside. She stretched and groaned, the sheets whispered under her body. Her gaze flickered to the alarm clock. Faintly, she realized taking the day off had been a good call. She'd have to thank Naomi for the idea. Memories sluggishly filled her head. Pleased heat filled her core and teased at her thoughts. Desire ate into her sleepy thoughts, rousing her hormones from their slumber.
Something was off, though. Her hand slapped against the bed. All she found was cold and empty sheets. Not a lick of body heat retained in the mattress. A chill ran through her as she sat up. Her apartment still clung to sleepy morning darkness. No one else and nothing else stirred in her apartment.
Knowing it was in vain, Miranda called out. No one called back. She strained her ears, hoping to hear the shower sputtering or a ruckus in her kitchen. The apartment was morosely quiet.
Tears burned at the back of her eyes as she slid out of the bed. She tried to shake away the sadness. Tyler had simply left her apartment. That didn't mean he had left Legacy entirely, right? She swallowed heavily as she gathered her clothes. Though she tried to shake her woe off, her stomach chilled. She already knew the general answer to Tyler's whereabouts.
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 Backsteel 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 flickered, 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?”