HARDCORE: Storm MC

by Zoey Parker

  That's my girl, Cain thought giddily as he wrestled an Uzi away from one of Gaspar's men and used it on him.

  He spun to find another opponent, only to find that most of them were being handily dispatched by the Eagles. The cartel goons were either dead, dying, or being beaten senseless by the bikers they'd been threatening only a moment before. Hunter was on top of Hector, foaming at the mouth and smashing the man's head against the ground over and over while screaming a frenzied mantra: “Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck...!”

  Cain ran over to the ground where Missy was sitting and crouched down, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “He's getting away!” Missy yelled, pointing. “Shoot him!”

  Cain looked to where she was pointing and saw Gaspar running down the road as fast as his legs could carry him.

  He glanced down at the Uzi in his hands, then tossed it aside.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Missy demanded.

  “No accuracy with this thing,” Cain replied coolly, walking over to where the bikes were parked. “Not at this range, anyway. Be right back.”

  Cain kept his eyes on the retreating figure of Gaspar as he mounted his bike, revving it. He pulled off, riding up behind Gaspar until he was so close he could hear the criminal's panicked footsteps even over the roar of the engine.

  Gaspar stole a glance over his shoulder and Cain saw the man's eyes bulging with terror.

  “This one's for you, Gooch,” Cain muttered.

  He gunned the engine and ran Gaspar down in the middle of the road, feeling the satisfying thump of the man's body under the bike. The machine almost lost its balance, but Cain righted it quickly, pulling it off to the side and shutting it off.

  Then he dismounted and walked over to Gaspar.

  Gaspar's body was twisted in an unnatural angle and he groaned loudly, blood trickling from his nose and mouth. His eyelids fluttered as he looked up at Cain.

  “Please,” Gaspar panted.

  “Fuck you,” Cain replied, raising his boot and stomping on Gaspar's head. He repeated this over and over, kicking and smashing until there wasn't much left of Gaspar's skull but an oozing, splintered pulp.

  Damn, but it felt good.

  Once he was done, he hopped back on Gooch's bike and rejoined the other Eagles. They'd methodically executed the remaining cartel members, and now they were carefully loading the bodies of their own fallen comrades into the back of the van.

  Cain helped Hunter pick up Keith's bleeding body and carry it to the vehicle. “This isn't your fault, Hunter,” Cain said quietly.

  “Bullshit,” Hunter retorted. “I was the president of the club, an' I let this happen. I let all of you down.”

  “Hey,” Cain insisted, “this isn't on you. This could have happened on anyone's watch, and they wouldn't have done anything differently.”

  Hunter opened his mouth to respond, then closed it and shook his head. Cain could see that no matter what anyone said to him, Hunter would blame himself for this for a long time. Maybe even forever.

  Once the bodies were loaded into the van, Missy joined Cain and Hunter. She threw her arms around Cain's neck, kissing him. “So now what?”

  Cain thought it over for a moment, then stifled a bitter laugh. “Well, I guess now we do what anyone would do after seeing something this fucked-up.”

  Missy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What's that?”

  “We call the cops.”

  Chapter 44

  Missy

  One Week Later

  Cain and Missy sat on the couch in Cain's living room, surrounded by boxes containing everything Missy owned. She'd moved in that afternoon, but she was too tired to start finding places for things yet, so she curled up with Cain to watch the evening news.

  On the screen, a well-coiffed female correspondent stood in front of the Teepee Motel, speaking into a microphone with the local station's call letters on it. “The Teepee Motel re-opened today,” she said, “just one week after a violent confrontation took place between members of a drug cartel and officers from the Dipper County Sheriff's Department. There was some confusion in the aftermath regarding the specifics of the shoot-out, but now that the Sheriff's Department has concluded its official investigation, Acting Sheriff Waylon Condell is here to talk to us about it.”

  The camera angle widened to include Condell, standing next to the reporter and fidgeting with his new uniform as he peered into the camera nervously.

  “He looks good,” Cain said, nodding appreciatively. “Very authoritative.”

  Missy scoffed. “Please. I'm just waiting for him to pick his nose on camera or something.”

  Cain chuckled, holding Missy closer.

  The correspondent continued, “Sheriff, what can you tell us?”

  Sure enough, Condell's finger reached up to touch the edge of his nostril before he realized what he was doing and lowered it again quickly.

  “Told you,” Missy commented.

  “Well, uh, see, what happened is,” Condell stammered, “me an' Sheriff Ham...I mean, Sheriff Hemmick, we received an anonymous tip that a dangerous, er, criminal...gang...was holed up at the Teepee. When we went to the motel to investigate, these, uh, malefactors engaged us in a prolonged firefight that claimed the lives of their own men, and, unfortunately, Sheriff Hemmick as well.”

  “Sheriff, I'm sorry, but are you really telling us that you were unable to capture even one of the perpetrators alive?” the correspondent asked skeptically.

  Condell nodded. “Yes, well, police work can be a, uh...complicated...thing, y'know? We did our best, but they, um, refused to be taken alive, so...well, that's it, I guess.”

  “Silver-tongued devil,” Missy marveled, shaking her head.

  “Hey, you think he sounds like an asshole now?” Cain asked. “Wait 'til he has to start campaigning for the job.”

  “Once we, uh, inspected the...y'know...premises,” Condell continued, “we found evidence linking these men to a sizeable stash of weapons and narcotics stored up at the old Tibbons farm.”

  “Really? And what evidence was that?”

  Condell swallowed hard, blushing. “Um, I'd have to, uh, check on that...I believe it was a note of some kind, mentioning the farm house...”

  “I'll bet as soon as the interview's over, he's going to write up a fake note he 'found' in the motel somewhere,” Cain jeered. “Something subtle, like 'Hey guys, don't forget we left all our dope and guns at the Tibbons farm. Love, Gaspar.'”

  “As long as he remembers to write it in Spanish,” Missy shrugged.

  “Amazing,” the reporter said dryly. “And all this from an anonymous tip.”

  “Uh, yeah, that's right,” Condell said, looking directly into the camera. “So, um, remember, everyone: If you see something, say something.”

  Missy switched the TV off. “What a nimrod.”

  “Well, now he's our nimrod, at least,” Cain said. “Since we let him take the credit for all this so he can look like a big hero cop, hopefully he'll resist the urge to shake us down every other week like Ham-Hock did.”

  Before Missy could answer, there was a knock at the door. She got up to answer it and saw Hunter standing on the porch. His bike was parked in the driveway, and he'd swapped out his Eagles cut for a simple brown leather jacket. His usually-shaved head was starting to show some fuzz.

  But most of all, his eyes and his posture were different. The fierce pride had given way to a hesitant, slope-shouldered humility.

  “Hey, sis,” he said, stepping into the living room. “I was just about to hit the road, an' I figured I'd stop by one last time to wish you guys luck.”

  “Sure,” Cain said. “Glad you did. Did you get Christina and Pauline squared away?”

  “Oh, sure,” Hunter replied. “Christina still feels goddamn awful about how all this shit went down, but I told her we understood, what with Gaspar fuckin' with her mom an' everythin'. Wasn't nothin' else she could do. Pauline's back to runnin'
the motel, an' she promised us that if the Eagles ever need anythin' from her—a place to crash or do deals, whatever—all we gotta do is ask.”

  “I'm surprised she made that offer,” said Missy. “Dealing with criminals is what got her in trouble in the first place.”

  Hunter smiled. “Well, the Eagles may be criminals, but as far as she's concerned, we're the nice criminals who'll be watchin' her back in case another asshole like Gaspar comes callin'.”

  “Huh. Well, it's good to know we've got the Teepee as a resource from now on if we need it,” Cain mused.

  Hunter nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other uneasily. “Yeah. So anyway, now that that's all taken care of, I guess I'd better move along.”

  “Hunter, are you sure you want to do this?” Missy pleaded. “None of the Eagles respect you any less because of what went down, and they all wish you'd stay on as their president.”

  “Nah,” Hunter said, shaking his head. “This ain't about them, or how they'd look at me from now on. Maybe I thought it was at first, but it ain't. It's just...”

  He stopped, searching for the right words. “That guy who was crawlin' on the ground in front of Gaspar, beggin'...I never knew I had that guy inside me. Because Gaspar was kinda right with what he said, y'know? All these years with the Eagles, I pictured shit ending for me a bunch of different ways...dead, or in prison for life, or maybe even just fuckin' crippled in a wreck, or even tortured by some dudes lookin' to screw with the club. An' those were rough thoughts, but I learned to live with 'em an' accept 'em.

  “But I never pictured myself bein' so powerless or lowerin' myself that way. An' now I gotta live with that, an' I ain't sure how. The only thing I know for sure is that I ain't gonna be able to focus on findin' the answers while I'm still ridin' around with the Eagles. I gotta take some time to figure shit out, just me an' the road.”

  “How long do you think you'll be gone?” Cain asked.

  Hunter shrugged. “Could be a few months, a year, maybe even longer. I'll check in here an' there when I can. Meanwhile, the club's in good hands with its new Acting President. You decided on a VP yet?”

  Cain looked at Missy and smiled. “Yeah. I have, actually.”

  Hunter raised his eyebrows in surprise, then considered it for a moment and nodded. “Huh. I'd say that's a fine choice. You run it by the other Eagles yet?”

  “Damn right I did,” Cain answered, “and they were all fine with it since she pulled our asses out of the fire at the Teepee.”

  Hunter squinted at Cain, grinning. “Really? All of them were 'fine with it?'”

  “Well, a couple of them did grumble about it a little,” Missy said, “until I challenged them to out-shoot or out-ride me. That shut them up in a hurry.”

  Hunter laughed loudly, hugging Missy. “That's my sis. You take good care of yourselves, hear me?”

  “We will,” she answered. “I promise.”

  Hunter released Missy and walked to the door, opening it. He took one last look at the Eagles' new President and VP, gave them a salute, and left, shutting the door behind him. A few moments later they heard his bike start up and roar down the road as he rode into the next chapter of his life.

  “So now what, Veep?” Cain asked Missy.

  Missy smiled mischievously. “That depends, Prez,” she replied teasingly. “How are those ribs of yours feeling?”

  “Much better, thank you.”

  “Good. Then get that bod of yours over here,” Missy answered, throwing her arms around Cain's neck and kissing him passionately. She pressed her body against his, feeling the comforting pressure of his erection pushing against her through his jeans.

  As they continued to kiss, Cain gently pushed Missy over to the couch until the backs of her legs bumped against it and she sat down hard. He pulled her t-shirt up over her head with his good arm, revealing her erect nipples.

  “No bra, huh? My lucky day,” Cain said, grinning.

  “Well, getting a girl's bra off is hard for a lot of guys even when they've got the use of both their hands,” Missy replied, “so I figured I'd make it as easy as possible on you.”

  “How thoughtful.”

  “Yup,” she agreed.

  He lowered himself to his knees in front of her and undid her jeans, sliding them down her legs along with her panties and tossing them aside.

  Cain kissed Missy's ankle, his lips making their way up the inside of her calf and thigh as she trembled. She could feel something like a low, steady hum in her abdomen, growing louder and more insistent with each new caress of his lips, like a cluster of power lines about to overload.

  Once he reached the throbbing delta between Missy's legs, Cain tenderly spread her pussy lips with his hands and lowered his head, flicking his tongue against her. She gasped and ran her fingers through Cain's hair as he buried his mouth in her warmth, licking her. His tongue traced patterns from back to front and back again, then settled on her pulsing clit as he slipped one finger into her, then two. His fingertips pressed on her G-spot and she moaned loudly, arching her lower back.

  When the pit of her stomach burned like a furnace and she couldn't take it anymore, Missy took Cain's face in her hands, looking into his eyes. “Take me. Please.”

  Cain nodded and rose to his feet, taking a condom from his pocket. Then he removed his shirt, jeans, and underwear. This process had become much easier for him during the previous week as his injuries healed.

  His cock was stiff and ready, quivering gently. Missy repositioned herself so that she was lying on the couch and spread her legs invitingly, a hot blush rising in her cheeks.

  Cain slid the condom onto himself and got on top of her. He used his good arm to hold himself up as their lips met again and he penetrated her, smiling as a loud moan transferred from her throat to his. They pushed themselves together as tightly as they could and stayed that way for a long time, not even thrusting. Just pressing and pressing until it almost seemed like they would disappear into each other forever.

  Their breath and sweat and hair mingled, and when it felt like they couldn't shove against each other any harder without breaking, they thrusted and came together, Missy's legs squeezing Cain so tightly that she worried she'd break his ribs again. But the cry that issued from Cain's lips was one of lust, rather than pain.

  They remained on the couch like that for a long time, panting and petting and stroking each other's bodies sleepily. They talked about their ideas for the club, and swapped dirty jokes and tender kisses. But they didn't talk about how much they loved each other, or the fact that they always would.

  They didn't have to.

  Somehow, they both just knew.

  THE END

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  (Bonus Novel #2) OVERDOSED: Fury’s Storm MC

  By Zoey Parker

  I'M ADDICTED TO HER, AND I WON'T STOP UNTIL I GET MY FIX.

  When a little girl shows up on the front stoop of the Fury's Storm HQ,

  I tell her the obvious truth: "You're at the wrong place, hon."

  But then she hands me a note that flips my world upside down.

  It says she's my daughter.

  I'm the last man on this earth who should be caring for a child.

  The only women in my life are the rotating cast of scantily clad groupies who keep my bed warm at night.

  So what the hell am I supposed to do with a daughter?

  I tell my men to find a way to get Gigi back to her mother.

  But they come back and tell me the girl's mom has disappeared without a trace.

  Now what?

  Just then, a woman knocks at the clubhouse door.

  I open it and freeze.

  Jamie is a knockout to say the least.

  She's pr
etty, but she doesn't know it.

  Sexy, but she hasn't been made to feel it.

  Eager, if only the right man were there to stoke her fires.

  That's where I come in.

  Jamie is Gigi's teacher and she's desperate to keep her favorite student safe.

  But as clues to Gigi's mom's disappearance crop up in new and unexpected places, the two of us clash and mesh with wild intensity.

  I've never felt like this about a woman before.

  I want her.