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 Backsteel 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 floundered 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?”
“Why not?” Tyler turned, shooting Jack with a look. The man healed slowly. His split lip was scabbed over, but the shiner on his eye and cuts along his arms still looked fresher than three weeks. The dark circles under Jack's eyes did him no favors, either. The man wasn't used to being on the run and dodging Backsteel associates. Despite his appearance, Jack was more at home with numbers and figures.
“Well, it puts the girls in danger again.” Jack shrugged as he stepped out of the room and onto the walkway. “And I doubt you left Legacy on good terms with Miranda.”
Tyler stiffened and his scowl deepened. It took all his willpower not to shoot Jack a dirty look. Jack was the reason he had to say goodbye to her. Okay, well, that wasn't true. It was Lloyd's presence and Pete's overreaching law. Jack was the one who continuously shot Tyler annoyed glances and frowns after they left the town. Silently, he blamed Tyler for their rushed escape. Yet, Lloyd fed them a heaping helping of guilt with what happened after they left.
Miranda had come looking for Tyler. After a housekeeper told her about their check-out, she emotionally crumpled. She cried a good half an hour in her car. Not once did she notice Lloyd watching from across the parking lot. The very thought sent Tyler's stomach into a churn. He grunted, hiding his discomfort as he tore his gaze away from Jack. “We have no other option. We've tried everything else.”
“Yeah, but–”
“No buts. We either do this or go back to Pete. What do you want?” Tyler swung around and glared at Jack. He didn't flinch, though he stared coolly down at his brother. Tension and fire and unadulterated rage flickered between them, weighing heavily on their exhausted minds. Tyler's fingers tightened into fists, the urge to strike Jack rousing in his mind.
Three weeks of ducking in and out of towns, of avoiding other bikers, of crawling around hoping to stir up some evidence razed Tyler's thoughts. Maybe if he had stayed in Legacy longer, he could have gotten Miranda's help easily. A part of him knew that to be a farce, though.
“Fine,” Jack relented, his stiff shoulders sagging. He turned his back to Tyler and grunted, “I'm going to take a shower before we go.”
Tyler didn't have the chance to bite out a reply before his brother slammed the door shut. He cocked his head, ears listening for the telltale click of a lock. Thankfully, it didn't come. Tyler eased, knowing Jack wasn't that petty. He heaved an exhausted sigh and turned back to the parking lot and horizon.
His heart thrummed at the thought of returning to Legacy. The prospect sent his thoughts reeling into wishful fantasies, starring Miranda. A nodule of guilt rolled about his thoughts. She wouldn't want to see him. She wouldn't want to listen to him nor cooperate. The banks were her family's business.
Yet, Tyler couldn't help holding out his hope. The Groves had been lording themselves over Miranda for a long time. Under the neatly polished sheen, there was a rowdy, darker part of her dying to crash through. He ran a hand through his hair, over the painful lump on his skull from the attack. He could only hope she was ready to break out.