HARDCORE: Storm MC

by Zoey Parker

  Keith and the other Eagles looked on, impressed.

  “Hey, I got some stuff on my bike that needs fixin', too, if you've got some spare time sometime,” Matches said. “I've been workin' on it for months, but from the look of it, you could sort that shit out in about fifteen minutes.”

  Missy chuckled. “Maybe after we're done with Gaspar,” she replied. “If you ask me nicely.”

  She went back into the kitchen and toward the living room. Cain followed. As they both sat down on the couch, she noticed that he was avoiding eye contact with her.

  “Hey, I hope you're not too freaked out that I ended up telling Hunter about us,” she said. “I mean, he basically knew anyway, and when he blurted it out, I really couldn't think of anything else to say, so...”

  “Nah, that's cool,” Cain answered. “I guess it's a little weird that he knows, but then, this whole fucking thing's been pretty weird when you think about it.”

  “That's certainly true,” Missy acknowledged. “Are you nervous about tonight?”

  She expected him to deny it immediately, since she'd rarely met a biker who'd admit to fear in the face of a fight. But instead, Cain nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

  Missy put a hand on his shoulder. “You've survived plenty of firefights before.”

  “Sure, I have,” Cain agreed. “But like I said, you haven't.”

  Missy felt a flare of rage again. “Look, I told you, just because I'm a woman doesn't mean...”

  Cain held up a hand for her to stop. “Just let me talk for a minute, okay? It's not because you're a woman. It's because you're...I mean, I'm...” He stopped and took a breath, trying again. “I never said this to anyone before, so bear with me, all right?”

  Missy cradled Cain's face in her hands, looking deep into his eyes. “Hey. Whatever it is, just tell me. I promise it'll be fine.”

  Cain's expression softened. “I'm...falling...for you. You know? And it's fucked up, and I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with it. All I know is that the thought of something happening to you...I mean, if I lost you...I don't think I could take that. Even the thought of people shooting at you is freaking me out. And it's not like I'll be able to watch your back properly, because I'm not exactly in peak condition right now and it'll probably be all I can do just to make it out of this in one piece. But if you get hurt, or worse—”

  Missy kissed him on the lips, stopping him mid-sentence. “I understand,” she said. “I really do. But Hunter will be looking out for me, and so will Keith and the other Eagles. Just like they do for each other, and just like they've always done for you. And on top of that, I'll be watching my back, and yours too. And if something does happen to me, well, then you'll just have to deal with it like you would if it were Matches or Burger. Beyond that, none of us have any guarantees in this life.”

  Cain's eyes were filled with affection, but more than that—respect for her, and pride as well. “I'm pretty sure I can guarantee I'll never meet anyone as strong, smart, and surprising as you are,” he said. “And that I'll probably love you 'til the damn stars burn out.”

  Missy could feel her heart melting in her chest. She'd never seen such desire and devotion in anyone's face before when they'd looked at her, and in that moment, she believed she could easily spend the rest of her life with someone who looked at her like that and never get tired of it. No matter how infuriating he could be.

  “I love you too, Cain,” she said.

  Their lips met again and they sat like that for a long time, holding each other on the couch and kissing. Missy didn't know whether they'd be alive tomorrow, but she knew that she wanted to spend every available moment curled up with him while they still could. She felt like she'd found something she'd been deprived of—perhaps even deprived herself of—for her entire life, and now that the rest of her life might only extend to a few more hours, she wanted to savor it as much as she could.

  Instinctively, she could feel that Cain was having the same thoughts. All of this passed between them wordlessly—an understanding that was all arms and lips and heartbeats intertwined.

  After a while, they fell asleep in each other's arms, their bodies letting go of the tension and stress that had been running through them both like jolts of electrical current for the past few days.

  Missy dreamed of sharing a long and happy life with Cain, her head on his shoulder, her body perfectly still except for the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

  Chapter 37

  Missy

  At sunset, Cain and Missy were awakened by the roar of motorcycles approaching up the street like the inhuman snarls of enraged giants. A moment later, Keith appeared at the window, rapping on it excitedly with his knuckles. “Hey, they're here! Come on, get up. They're here!”

  Missy jumped off the couch and helped Cain to his feet as the bikes' headlights washed through the living room. Missy opened the front door and saw Hunter driving the MC's van in front of almost two dozen Eagles, including prospects without patches and guys who'd retired from the club years ago. All of them appeared to be heavily armed.

  “You guys ready to rock?” he asked, leaning out the driver's-side window.

  “Damn right,” Cain said. Missy nodded.

  “Cool,” Hunter nodded. “Arm yourselves an' be ready to roll out in five minutes. Missy, I've got Cain's bike in the back of the van for you.” He tossed her the keys and she caught them.

  Missy grabbed her .38, her knife, and the shotgun she'd been keeping in her car. Then she pulled her socks and boots on as Cain tucked his pistol into the back of his jeans.

  Once they were ready, Missy and Cain headed out. Keith and the Eagles in the garage were already on their bikes. They’d unloaded Cain's bike from the van and it was sitting in the driveway, gleaming in the disappearing rays of sunlight.

  Cain started toward Gooch's bike in the garage, then shot a bittersweet glance at Missy as she mounted his bike. “Take care of her, okay?” he said.

  Missy raised an eyebrow as she strapped her helmet under her chin. “Are you talking to me, or the bike?”

  Cain smiled. “Both, I guess.” He straddled Gooch's bike, using his one good hand to rev the engine with the customized handlebar controls. “Time to make ol' Gooch proud.”

  “Okay, fellas, this is it!” Hunter called out, addressing the Eagles. “We all know why we're here, an' we all know what's gotta be done. We'll only get one shot at this—we fuck it up, an' we may as well dig our own graves. But if we can move in hard an' fast, take down Gaspar's guys, grab his guns an' leave the rest for the cops, we'll have sent our message loud an' clear: You fuck with the Blood Eagles, an' by God we fuck back.”

  The Eagles cheered, and Missy cheered with them. She'd had to watch these warriors ride off to battle before, but she'd never rode with them, and now she found herself tasting the same tang of adrenaline that was probably in their mouths as well. Her brain was already jabbering at her anxiously about the hundred different ways in which she could be hurt or killed by what came next—begging her to consider the pain of bullets and knives entering her body—but her heart and her guts were pumping fearsome energy through her veins that made her feel invincible.

  The van started down the road and the bikes followed. Missy saw people peering out from the windows of their houses, then closing their curtains quickly. In one driveway, she saw Fernando practicing kick-flips on his skateboard. When he saw the procession of bikes, he picked up his board and retreated inside the house.

  She threw her head back and laughed. Let those people play it safe. Let them stay in their safe houses and watch their safe TV shows and live safe lives and die safe deaths.

  This was where she felt she belonged, strapped with weapons and riding hell bent for leather toward action with her brother at one side and her lover at the other.

  For the first time in a life of bland disappointments and feelings of being left out, she finally felt truly free.

  Chapter 38

  Missy


  Hunter pulled the van into the parking lot of the Teepee, followed by the horde of Eagles. Hunter got out from behind the driver's seat with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder and an unlit Molotov Cocktail in his hand.

  The other Eagles dismounted their bikes, brandishing their artillery and marching on rooms 12 and 13.

  Once they were all standing in front of the motel rooms in a loose semicircle with their guns drawn, Hunter handed the bottle to Missy along with a lighter. “Care to do the honors, sis?”

  “Sure,” Missy said eagerly, lighting the fuse. “Which room? Twelve, or thirteen?”

  Hunter thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Surprise me.”

  Missy nodded. “Lucky thirteen it is, then.” She drew her arm back, and pitched the lit Molotov through the window. It crashed through the glass, and the glow of its flames quickly filled the room, along with several voices yelling fearfully in Spanish.

  “You still throw like a girl,” Hunter commented.

  “Fucker!” Missy laughed, cuffing him on the shoulder playfully.

  A second later, the door swung open and two tattooed young men in baggy shorts and t-shirts ran out screaming, “Fuego! Fuego!” Behind them, Missy could see what looked like stacks of plastic-wrapped bricks of narcotics burning.

  The two men had guns drawn, but as soon as they saw that they were surrounded, they dropped the weapons and held their hands up. The door to the neighboring room banged open. Three more armed men in baggy clothes ran out, realized they were outnumbered, and dropped their guns to raise their hands.

  Cain's eyes drifted down to the men's shoes, and he frowned. One of them, a man with overlapping spider webs inked all over his arms, was wearing a pair of pointy-toed cowboy boots that looked very familiar.

  Slowly, menacingly, Cain walked up to Spider Webs until their faces were inches apart. Spider Webs met his harsh gaze without blinking.

  “Remember me, motherfucker?” Cain growled.

  “Yeah, I think maybe I do,” Spider Webs said, grinning. “But it's tough to be sure 'cause last time I saw you, you was on the ground getting stamped out like a cigarette butt.”

  Cain nodded. “That's right. You know why?”

  “I dunno, ese. Maybe 'cause you're a faggoty little leather-boy bitch, how about that?”

  Cain shook his head. “No, see, it's because I was outnumbered. That's all it was. But take a look around you, asshole, and tell me—who's outnumbered now, huh? I could pick eight guys at random to make a circle around you and mash you into fucking tomato paste right here, and you couldn't do a thing to stop it.”

  “I'd volunteer for that,” Missy added cheerily.

  “There, you see?” Cain said. “We can even let her in on the action so if you manage to survive getting your skull kicked in, the scumbags you work for know you're a pathetic dipshit who gets his ass handed to him by girls. So, before we pull on our big-boy boots and start the party on your head, any last words, big man?”

  Spider Webs smiled even more broadly, displaying several shiny gold teeth. “Yeah,” he said. “I got two for you, homie: big mistake.”

  Suddenly, the doors to the other motel rooms opened and a dozen men flooded out carrying machine guns and assault rifles. The bikers stood their ground, shifting their aim to these new attackers. Within seconds, the two ranks of outlaws were standing face to face with their guns trained on each other.

  There was a whooshing sound in room 13, and the flames quickly receded as the air in the room filled with billowing white vapor. A dark silhouette moved within it, approaching the door. Missy squinted to see inside, and once she realized who she was looking at, her jaw dropped.

  Even though she'd never seen him in the flesh, he was unmistakable based on the descriptions she'd heard and the way he carried himself as he stepped through the door, tossing a fire extinguisher to one side.

  Gaspar Hernandez stood before the Blood Eagles and brought his hands up in front of his chest, applauding them gently.

  “Bravo, Eagles,” he purred. “You've played your parts perfectly, just as I knew you would.”

  Chapter 39

  Missy

  Tension crackled in the air between the Eagles and Gaspar's men like lightning before a storm. Missy cradled her shotgun, leveling it at one of the cartel enforcers as Hunter and Cain stood on either side of her with their weapons aimed.

  Gaspar wore a black leather duster coat over a vivid red shirt with a wide collar. His long black hair was tied back in a ponytail, and his eyes burned with a feverish madness. A pair of revolvers hung on either side of his thin waist—each pearl handle was engraved with a skull. He surveyed the bikers in front of him like a rock star sizing up his audience before playing his first song, clearly savoring their expectation.

  “Traps are funny things, aren't they?” Gaspar began. He spoke English perfectly, with the faintest lilt of an accent. “Any animal, no matter how clever, is still dumb enough to be trapped as long as they see the right bait. The fish sees a worm, and he bites down on the hook. The rat sees cheese, and snap, his neck is broken. But the biker, well...even with the intellect of a man, the biker remains the most stupid of all animals. For you see, he does not even need to see the bait for himself to charge into the trap. No, he only needs to hear the magic words—guns, drugs, revenge—and he will still run toward the trap as fast as his bike will carry him.”

  “So, you moved your stash here just to lure us,” Hunter growled.

  Gaspar laughed loudly, gesturing to several of his men. “Do you see, hermanos? Even now, they do not understand!” He smiled at Hunter coldly. “My stockpile of firearms and narcotics never left the root cellar under the Tibbons farmhouse, you redneck moron. You just burned a few decoy bricks of packaged flour, nothing more.”

  “But Christina...” Missy said.

  “Ah, yes, Christina!” Gaspar crowed. He turned to one of his enforcers, a man with a third eye inked on his forehead. “Go get the occupants of room 20 and bring them here, Hector, por favor. It's time for the fish to feel the hook cut into his mouth.”

  Hector walked over to room 20 and entered it. A few moments later, he emerged, his burly arms dragging a pair of rolling office chairs behind him. Christina and Pauline were tied to them and gagged with strips of duct tape. Pauline's face was covered with bruises, and her left eye was swollen shut. Christina's eyes were wide as she stared at Missy, shaking her head in a silent apology.

  “Sweet, timid little Christina,” Gaspar said, stroking her cheek gently. She snapped her head back, her bulging eyes filled with fear and revulsion as tears spilled down her cheeks. “The perfect damsel in distress, yes? Who would ever believe such a mouse of a woman could possibly lie so convincingly? Ah, but you would be truly amazed at the lies a woman can bring herself to tell when she's seen her own mother violated before her eyes, over and over again. You would be astonished at the things she would agree to, just to make such horrors stop.”

  Missy's jaw clenched. “You took over their motel...brutalized them...just because you knew Christina did my hair. You knew I was your best bet to manipulate the MC.”

  Gaspar shrugged. “An outlaw hears of such things from one of his unsavory associates, and perhaps he smells the trap after all. But a girl, a civilian, who hears these things from the harmless lady who cuts her hair and passes the information along to her dear brother...”

  “Fuck,” Missy snarled. “I can't believe I fell for this shit. I'm so fucking sorry, Hunter.”

  “Not your fault,” Hunter said without taking his eyes—or his aim—off Gaspar. “Could've happened to any of us, no matter what this ghoul says.”

  “Well,” Gaspar replied, “on that, we can agree to disagree.”

  “Maybe,” said Hunter, “but I don't think you'd disagree with the fact that you're still outnumbered.”

  “Yes, just as you would no doubt agree that you are still outgunned,” Gaspar answered, holding out a hand to indicate the machine guns trained on the Eagles. “In pul
ling the trigger, you may as well be flipping a coin. Would you care to take that chance?”

  “No,” Hunter conceded, “but it just so happens I ain't too bad at settin' traps myself.”

  Suddenly, a siren wailed a short distance away, followed by another, and another. Blue lights flickered against the walls of the motel as a trio of cars from the Dipper County Sheriff's Department pulled up. Hemmick and Condell emerged from two of them, and two more deputies stepped out of the third. All of them wore bulletproof vests, and they were armed with shotguns.

  “Got anything to say now, smart guy?” Hunter asked.

  “What can I say,” Gaspar said, looking at Hemmick and spreading his arms, “except to welcome my dear friend Sheriff Hemmick and thank him for his punctuality?”