HARDCORE: Storm MC(109)

Hunter nodded again. “Yeah. Even when the ship's goin' down. Fuck, especially then. So you two stay safe, okay? Keep yer eyes open an' watch each other's backs.”



Missy briefly flashed to the memory of walking into the bathroom and seeing Cain naked. We've been watching a lot more than each other's backs, she thought.



“We will, I promise,” Cain said.



Hunter waited for a long moment, then took his hands away. This was strange behavior for him, and it frightened Missy a bit. She hadn't wanted to see him charge into action like some unthinking, bloodthirsty Viking like he had in the past, but seeing him look so adrift and indecisive was much worse.



“Okay,” said Hunter. “I'm off. And this time if anything seems funky—I mean anything—you call me that second.” He walked over to this bike, threw his leg over it, and revved it, speeding off into the night.



“Need help getting back inside?” Missy asked Cain.



“Nah, I can do it,” he said, turning and heading toward the front door. Based on how he was walking, Missy could tell he was still in agony and trying not to show it. “I'm gonna get some sleep.”



“This early?” she replied. It was night, but she knew Cain tended to keep the same hours she did—up all night, with bedtime usually at sunrise.



Cain shot her a baleful glance. “Yes, this early. I survived an attempted assassination earlier today, and I just watched someone use the head of one of my best friends as a goddamn bowling ball. So I'm going to take a bunch of pills, close my eyes, and hope that when I wake up, my world makes sense again. Unless you've got any fucking objections?”



Missy sighed, inwardly suppressing a sharper response to his hostility. He was right. They'd all had a long day. Another fight wouldn't do either of them any good.



“Then at least use the inflatable bed instead of the couch,” she said. “I've got it set up in the bedroom. It'll probably be a lot more comfortable and help you heal up faster.”



“Fine,” said Cain, walking into the house. There was a rattle of pill bottles, and a moment later, she heard the bedroom door slam shut behind him.



As Missy followed him inside, her cell phone rang. She checked it, expecting it to be Hunter calling already to make sure they were still alive and issue more warnings.



Instead, she saw that it was Christina Vargas, the mousy woman in her early thirties who cut Missy's hair. She ran a discount salon from her home at the south end of town. Missy frowned, looking at the caller ID. Missy generally called Christina every couple of months to schedule an appointment, but she couldn't remember Christina ever calling her before.



Missy answered the phone. “Hey, Christina.”



“Hey,” Christina answered. Her voice always seemed hushed and uncertain, but oddly, it sounded even more tremulous than usual. “Um, so...it's been a couple months, and I thought, y'know, maybe you'd want to go ahead and, um, make an appointment for me to do your hair...”



“Yeah, uh, thanks for thinking of me,” Missy replied, “but this really isn't a good time for that, okay? I've got way too much going on right now. I'll call you when I've got time to set something up. Bye.”



Missy lowered the phone and was about to hang it up when she heard Christina's voice call out, “Wait!” There was a twinge of desperation in it.



Missy raised the phone again. “What?”



“Umm...” Christina sounded like she was stalling, trying to think of some reason to keep Missy on the phone.



What the hell is going on here? Missy thought. Is she tweaking on meth or something, looking for someone to talk her down?



“So listen, uhh,” Christina wavered, “how's, um, how's everything going with you? How's your family?”



Missy was becoming more confused by the minute. Christina had never asked about Missy's family. She knew that Missy's brother led the Eagles—most people in Micanaw knew that—and she was such an anxious person, she usually didn't want to learn any details about the MC and its dealings.



“Well, actually, my family's a little fucked up right now, Christina,” Missy replied, stepping into the house and closing the door behind her. She could hear motorcycles approaching up the street and knew that Keith's posse was about to start settling into the garage. “Most of the shit that's been happening with us has been pretty public. Maybe you heard about it?”



“Uh, yeah, I've heard some stuff about that,” Christina said.



There was another uncomfortable silence, and Missy was about to ask point-blank what the fuck Christina was calling about when Christina continued hesitantly. “My, um, family isn't doing so great these days either, actually. My mom's been under a lot of, um, stress. Did you ever meet my mom? She runs the Teepee Motel.”