OUR UNLIKELY BABY_Blacksteel Bandits MC

by Paula Cox

  Tyler winced, clenching his eyes shut. Words formed on the tip of his thoughts and on the tip of his tongue. He worked his tongue around the now foreign words. Despite his best effort, Tyler still slurred the words together, “How long've I been'out?”

  “Four days,” answered Miranda. He cracked his eyes open, his gaze trailed over her body. Darkness ringed beneath her eyes and, if he wasn't mistaken, he thought he could hear the faint rumble of hunger beneath her shirt. He was willing to bet she hadn't eaten for the past four days.

  As he thought about the four days, information poured into him. Tyler clenched his eyes shut. Short snatches of memories tickled his synapses: a loud motorcycle ride, the air loud and whipping at the side of his heads as he felt blood drain down his chest, his torso, his leg, the chatter, the noise, the chaos as he was hauled out of the cold night air and into a bright hallway. The outside world became muffled as words passed over his head. Darkness wobbled across his consciousness, tugging the memories in frayed strips across his brain.

  Then everything went silent and dark. Completely.

  “What happened?” He managed the words as Miranda stalked to the other side of the bed. He could hear the pitcher tipping over, the water pouring out. She pressed the cold glass to his palm.

  “After I left, I looked at the phone you slipped me. I called Lloyd and he came as quickly as he could.” She answered, brief relief still jabbing at her thoughts. The last four days had been pure Hell. She had managed the police investigation and held off Pete Delaney's attorney. Even her family had come around, but not to wish wellness on Tyler. Her fingers knotted into the hem of her over-sized t-shirt. “When we got back to the warehouse, Pete and Mike already shot you, you lost a lot of blood. The rest of your club rushed you to the hospital.”

  “What happened to Francesca?”

  “Lloyd is helping her,” she answered, a faint smile teasing at her lips. Lloyd was a good guy, even if he was involved in the Blacksteel Bandits. Then again, he could be a worse person. “I'm not sure how they're going to fix everything, but Lloyd seem pretty sure of himself.”

  The words sunk into Tyler's thoughts as his gaze flicked about the room. He lifted the plastic cup to his lips, the water quenching his dry taste buds. Lloyd was helping Francesca, as they agreed, and now they took on the next tier on their own. Gratitude filled his thoughts. He wasn't sure if he could handle dismantling a cartel.

  One thing still wasn't rectified, though. His gaze focused on Miranda, again. Tyler croaked, after taking a sip of water, “What about you?”

  “What?” She tilted her head, refusing to acknowledge what he tried to shove before her nose.

  “Your dad, the life, the bank.”

  Miranda shrugged a shoulder, as if her whole life wasn't upended. It wasn't. She had Lloyd's help, but she couldn't help feeling she lost something faintly important. As far as Miranda cared, though, her family could either accept her life – and her choice of lover – or suck it. It wouldn't be easy. She had to start from the bottom, in a new career. What could she do? She wanted to be with Tyler. She had for over a decade and no one was going to stop her. Especially after this ordeal. Miranda shifted from foot to foot as she stared down at Tyler, “I chose you.”

  “Mir,” he rasped, his voice still dry and paper-thin. Her heart ached, hearing that simple syllable on his breath. “You should go back to your family. They can take care of you, they love you, they want what is best for you.”

  She scowled, her brows dipping down into a valley. “Do you know?”

  “What?”

  “Do you know?” She repeated herself, flicking her tongue across her lips. Her head had repeated the scene often enough, she could almost detail it word for word, second by second. Her stomach roiled as she continued, “You asked if I knew before you passed out. Do you remember?”

  Tyler dragged the thought across his thoughts. He vaguely remembered asking if she knew and she had answered 'yes.' Of course, he didn't spell it out. He couldn't. It hurt too much, to know that her family, her friends, the town were against them. His sole desire was not enough. His lips puckered and his eyes turned to the bed. “No.”

  “You're lying.” The words shot out of her mouth so quickly, she almost surprised herself.

  He turned his eyes abruptly to her face and found himself pinned beneath her angry, green eyes. His heart thudded in his chest.

  “I want the truth,” she muttered, pressing her lips together. She bore into his gaze, demanding truth and answers. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Miranda leaned closer, her hands pressed to his bed. “Do you know?”

  He stared up at her, watching the fires flickering in the depths of her eyes. Realistically 'no,' was the best answer. It kept her away and allowed her the chance to live, without him. However, that's not what she wanted. She wanted the truth. Pinned in her gaze, Tyler could only say one thing. “Yes.”

  Miranda smiled and leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Then, I'm not leaving your side.”

  Something snapped in his thoughts. He couldn't stop it. The smile curled at his lips as he quickly averted his gaze. Tears tugged at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill down his cheeks. Warm relief stirred in his breast, but something else danced there. Something warm, and hot, and gentle. His fingers curled into the sheets.

  “Mir,” he croaked, fighting off the choked off feelings that clamped across his throat. No one had stayed with him like her. No on followed him, with such hardheaded resolved, let alone stayed with him for so long. His family had long gone became dust in the wind, whether from death or lack of care. She was the only person that always came to mind.

  She tilted her head. Something buzzed in the air, something that licked at her arms and legs with heated anticipation. “Yes?”

  “I'm never going to leave you, again.” The words came softly over his lips. They sent heat through her, but Tyler didn't catch the wine blush that tickled across her face. He was too busy fighting with himself as he murmured, “I love you, Miranda.”

  Her eyes widened, taking in her long-time loved one. Tyler slumped before her, wrapped in hospital sheets and wearing a gown, shamefaced and happy as he sat in the broad expanse of the hospital bed. A small smile curled at her lips. This was the side of him few saw, this small break that others didn't see or simply ignored. This was the side of him that, Miranda though, was all hers.

  “I know,” she whispered, leaning close to him. Her hand pushed the air from his forehead and, hesitantly, his eyes drew to her face. She flashed him a smile as he turned his eyes to hers. “I love you, too, Tyler.”

  Her soft lips, pressed to his temple, sent tingling happiness across Tyler's body.

  EPILOGUE

  The afternoon sun hung halfway to the horizon. People still wandered along the suburban sidewalk, tugging on dogs' leashes or enjoying the mild warmth of the ending day. A few driveways sported motorcycles, but mostly mini-vans held residence. Miranda stood outside a quaint, single-story home painted buttercream yellow. A white fence rounded the yard and beautiful purple flowers flanked the side of the home. The scent of freshly cut grass wafted on the breeze.

  “Who'd ever think I could grow anything but husks, right?” Naomi chuckled as she exited the front door, holding a fresh pitcher of lemonade.

  “Quite a few houseplants would testify otherwise,” retorted Miranda, a grin on her lips as she held her empty glass up to her friend. Even after two years of parenthood, Naomi was unfairly stunning. Her blonde hair had grown out and now laid as a plait down her back. Her figure had filled out, but it had plumped in all the right places. If Naomi's stories were any indication, she was still desired by many others. Her smile was more dazzling and a rosy tint to her cheeks belayed her utter happiness with the world.

  Naomi pursed her lips and averted her gaze in a mock play of shame, “Well, Jack helps with the garden.”

  “You mean he does all the gardening,” laughed Miranda, flashing her teeth at her fri
end.

  Naomi huffed and stuck her tongue out childishly at Miranda before her gaze flicked down the street. A man followed a toddler along the sidewalk. The tyke sat atop a flashy green tricycle and wore an equally new, and equally bright green, helmet.

  Miranda sighed and stared down the street. Fatherhood suited Jack to a tee. His kutte was long-gone – revoked by Lloyd after a discussion with the rest of the Bandits – to be replaced with flannel and plaid. His beard had grown, becoming a bushy set of bristles befitting any lumberjack.

  “So, when are you going to tell him?” Naomi's voice drew Miranda from her reverie.

  She curiously glanced at her friend, not risking a head-on stare. Without betraying her inner thoughts, she innocently asked, “What do you mean, Naomi?”

  “Don't kid a kidder, Miranda,” her grin broadened. Miranda's face flushed and she averted her gaze farther from Naomi. She didn't know what spooky mother powers her friend now possessed, but she didn't want to help them along any. Miranda's bashfulness didn't deter Naomi as she laughed, “I noticed.”

  She couldn't find a witty retort. Instead, she simply sniffed and sputtered pure irritation, “Of course, you would.”

  “Have you heard from Lloyd or Terri?” Naomi posited the question, stifling Miranda's irritation.

  She shrugged, her thoughts lazily trailing across the Bandit president and Teresa Torres – or better known, two years ago, as Francesca Munoz. “Lloyd comes by every blue moon. Teresa hasn't been in contact since the cartel fell.”

  “Ah,” the blonde nodded and muttered noncommittally. She still didn't know Teresa had given Miranda over to Pete those two years ago. Miranda planned to keep it that way. Naomi was slow to forgive and refused to forget. Herself, on the other hand, had come to understand why Teresa had toiled under Pete's command. Her heart twanged, wondering briefly where she was now.

  “Look alive,” Naomi laughed under her breath, disturbing Miranda's thoughts. “Now's your chance to tell him.”

  Before Miranda could demand what her blonde friend meant, the woman sauntered down the street. Jack and his son, Johnny, were starting to double back. The little boy continued to peddle, his cheeks red and sweaty in determination. Her ears finally picked up on the footfalls behind her. She took a hasty swig of her lemonade as Tyler's arms sifted across her waist.

  Feeling increasingly awkward, Miranda nodded toward the little boy as he trundled down the sidewalk with his parents in tow. “He's a natural on that thing.”

  “Sure is,” Tyler chuckled. Miranda caught the grin on his lips. Vaguely, she wondered if she was the one assigning it a wistful undertone to his voice or if it was genuine. Regardless, Tyler squeezed her a little tighter as they talked about Johnny.

  “You're a good uncle, Tyler,” she added, prodding a little further.

  Tyler snorted, before a good-humored chuckle left his lips, “Well, I don't have to do much as the fun uncle, right?”

  That was true. And infuriatingly neutral as she skirted around the topic. She had to take the plunge. There was no other way. She couldn't bring herself to face Tyler's expression. Excitement coiled through her veins, and she barely resisted the urge to shiver. Miranda swallowed before placing the words on the end of her tongue, “Well, you'll definitely have to do more if you're going to be an even better dad.”

  Quiet descended around them. Birds twittered overhead. The sound of a tricycle being pushed to its limit rumbled down the street. Soft footfalls and light conversation followed after the speedy toddler. Miranda refused to look either Naomi or Jack in the eye as they passed. Though, she knew the two could see how flushed her face was. She had no clue what Tyler's face looked like. Was he shocked? Or did he not pick up on the ulterior meaning in her words?

  “What?” Tyler finally managed. He understood. His brain had come to a complete stop as shock attempted to work out her words. His synapses still were jumbled and confused. Tyler feared even the slightest movement would cause the happy bubble – now frozen with uncertainty – to crackle.

  She steeled her trembles. There was no reason to be ashamed of this. Miranda couldn't shake the softness in her words, though. “You heard me.”

  “Miranda Ferguson,” he forced her to spin around, his broad hands on her shoulder. Her green eyes shot to his face, uncertainty peppering her gaze. His brown eyes fell to her expression, his lips working around the clunky words on his tongues, “Are you trying to say… I'm going to be… That I'm…”

  Her eyes darted across his face. Though she had no clue what he though, her lips couldn't help curling into a smile. She had a feeling, a faint feeling, excitement was bubbling beneath his shock. “Yes.”

  Tyler stared at her for a moment, blinking back his shock and surprise. Suddenly, a grin erupted over his lips. He laughed and grabbed her. They shared a delighted hug, before he couldn't contain himself any further. Her legs flew out from under her as Tyler hoisted her and spun her around, relieving the joy building up in his chest.

  “I'm gonna be a dad!” He shouted as he dropped Miranda to her feet. She laughed and nodded her head as Tyler turned his gaze down the street. Again, his voice boomed over the suburban block, “I'm gonna be a dad!”

  Only Jack's voice carried back on the open air, “About time she told you!”

  Tyler ignored him and swept Miranda up, yet again, in his arms. He crushed her to him as thoughts skittered over his head. A child. They were going to have a child together. And, with a child, they'd have a family.

  Finally.

  THE END

  Read on for your FREE bonus book – OUR ACCIDENTAL BABY

  OUR ACCIDENTAL BABY: Hellhounds MC

  By Paula Cox

  I CAN’T LET HIM FIND OUT ABOUT OUR ACCIDENTAL BABY.

  It was a night in heaven with a man from hell.

  If only it had ended there.

  “Welcome to my playroom,” he said.

  “Now shut the door and open your mouth.”

  I’d never had a night like that before.

  And I promised myself I’d never let it happen again.

  No matter how good it was.

  No matter how hard I shook.

  No matter how loud I moaned.

  I couldn’t be his animal, his toy.

  I wouldn’t be.

  I won’t be.

  But Cain gave me something I never expected, something I never asked for:

  His baby in my belly.

  I never meant for this to happen, but now that I’m pregnant, I can’t let him find out.

  I have to keep our baby safe from her father.

  Even if that means giving up my own life to save her.

  Because Cain’s coming back for us.

  He wants what’s his.

  And it’ll take everything I have not to let him get it.

  Prologue

  Bathed in sweat, Cain Rodgers wiped at his face as he stopped thrusting and tried to catch his breath. He was balls deep inside the bartender that he had picked up, and she was wearing him out. He had already come twice, but she wasn’t finished with him yet and hadn’t let him stop the marathon fuck.

  He was in New Orleans on business and had stopped by The Cat’s Claw for a little liquid refreshment and some company. The Claw wasn’t a brothel, but it was well known that the wait staff could be very accommodating for the right amount of green. He had wanted to enjoy the rewards for another shipment successfully received and sent on its way to Dallas.

  Cain was the broker for the Hellhounds Motorcycle Club. He put together their deals and made sure everything ran smoothly. He was good at his job… very good. Since he had taken over, their sales were up over three-hundred percent and the club was making good money, and his slice of the pie allowed him to indulge in certain… pleasures.

  “Don’t stop!” the bitch murmured as she rocked on her hands and knees, working her ass in a way that made him gasp and twist with pleasure.

  She wasn’t a loud fuck, a soft moan was about the most he
was able to get out of her, but she was insatiable. She had caught his eye as she worked behind the bar, doing all the fancy flips and tricks that a good flair-tender could do. But she didn’t look like most flair-tenders he had seen, with her porn star body and the face of an angel framed by a mass of dark curls. There was something about her that had captivated him and he had spent most of the night sitting at the bar, watching her run through her routines while he downed shots and slipped her twenties to keep her attention.

  He rolled to his back, pulling her over with him, his cock never leaving the warm confines of her pussy. After nearly two hours of hard fucking, he was winded and ready to let her do the work for a while. Almost as soon as they were still, she began to bounce on him, the muscles in her strong shapely legs flexing and straining with effort. Her back was to him, but he had seen her all-natural tits swinging and bouncing from a similar position before, and thinking about how they sloshed and jiggled along with her breathy pants was heating him up again. As she panted, squirmed, and bounced, he pushed his hair out of his eyes and wiped the sweat on her back. She was already so wet with sweat that she wouldn’t notice a little more.