HARDCORE: Storm MC(106)
Missy picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Hunter,” she said.
“Hey yourself,” Hunter answered, trying to sound gruff. “How's the patient?”
“Oh, he's a delight,” Missy answered. Hunter could almost hear her rolling her eyes, and he smiled. “He's just been so relentlessly cheerful and upbeat, I keep telling him that he should get a job writing greeting cards.”
“Well, just remember to go easy on him, okay?” Hunter replied. “He's goin’ through a lot of bad shit right now. Besides, you've never even broken a bone.”
“Not true,” she retorted.
“Fingers don't count,” Hunter said, remembering the time Missy fell out of a tree when they were kids and landed on her index and middle fingers, snapping them.
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because they don't,” he answered. In the background, he heard what sounded like several large dogs barking. “What is that? Do the neighbors have a pit bull or somethin’?”
“No, that was just Cain,” she said. “He didn't remove the feet right, so now the 'dogs' are barking.”
“That shouldn't count!” Hunter heard Cain call out in the background. “I got distracted by the phone!”
“Yeah, and the patient suffered for it, buddy!” Missy called back, apparently holding the phone away from her mouth. “Now move your piece back three squares.”
Hunter frowned, then shook his head. When it came to Missy, he'd learned long ago that not everything had to make sense. “So everything's quiet over there?” he asked. “Bones is still out front?”
“Yeah, he was about an hour ago,” Missy said. “Let me go check.”
There was a long pause, followed by Missy's voice, sounding uneasy. “Um, I don't see him there now...”
Hunter sat bolt upright. “What the fuck do you mean? He's not there?”
“Calm down, calm down!” Missy insisted. “He probably just went around back to check something out.”
“He's supposed to let you know every time he does that!” Hunter yelled. “Goddamn it, he's supposed to call me if he even thinks he sees or hears somethin’ worth checkin’ out! He sure isn't just supposed to be wanderin’ off on his own like some kind of asshole!”
“Here, I'll go out and check to see if he's there...” Missy began.
“The fuck you will!” Hunter snarled, bolting upstairs for his clothes. “You keep that door shut and locked, you understand me? You do not go outside, no matter what. I'll have Keith there in a couple of minutes.”
“Okay, Hunter,” she said. There was no mocking in her tone now, just quiet efficiency. “I understand.”
“Good,” Hunter said, ending the call. He yanked on his shirt, jeans, boots, and cut, stomping down the stairs with his phone in his hand.
As he locked the front door behind him and ran over to his bike in the driveway, he dialed Keith. The phone rang, again and again and again, and Hunter was about to give up when Keith finally picked up.
“Hey, sorry, Hunter, I was...”
“I don't give a fuck,” Hunter said. “I need you to get your ass over to Cain's, okay? Don't stop for nothin', just get the hell over there now. Take Arnie an' Tallboy with you. I'll meet you there.”
“You got it, boss,” Keith said, hanging up.
Hunter got on his bike and revved it, riding off toward Cain's house for the second time that day.
He thought about Bones strolling off when he was supposed to follow specific protocols, and Keith staying behind to take a leak while Cain got smeared across the pavement—and now dicking around doing God-knew-what instead of answering his damn phone when they were under attack.
Hunter's blood boiled. Bad enough the Eagles were up against such impossible odds, but since when had his own men become so half-assed and unreliable? Apart from his VP, Keith and Bones were his two highest-ranking officers, and now he didn't even feel like he could trust them anymore. He'd asked for Arnie and Tallboy because they were big and tough, but neither of them had ever proven themselves particularly focused or resourceful, either. Tinny was smart and dependable, but he was more useful as a medic than a fighter.
Which just left two people Hunter really felt he could depend on at this point—his veep, who was barely able to stand up, and his sister, who wasn't even a patched member.
His thoughts turned to his conversation with Missy at the breakfast table days ago, when she'd told him she wanted to do more for the club. She was right when she'd said she could ride and shoot as well as any Eagle, and for the first time in his life, he found himself wishing there weren't rules against women becoming members. Maybe that had seemed like an important bylaw when his father had helped found the club, but his father hadn't lived long enough to see the badass his daughter had grown into.