HARDCORE: Storm MC(123)

Christina nodded again. “Rooms 12 and 13. There are two or three men in each room at any given time, but no more than that. Gaspar himself's mostly stayed away since that first night.”



“All right. Second question. You said they had all of their guns and drugs stashed there. Are you sure? You haven't heard them talk about any other places where they might be keeping them?”



Christina shook her head vigorously. “No, they've got all their stuff there. Seriously, they've got dozens of crates of guns in one room, even some grenade launchers, all piled up to the ceiling. And in the other room, it's just stacks and stacks of packaged coke and grass and heroin. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw it.”



“Uh-huh. Third question. How many civilians are staying at the Teepee right now?”



Christina thought hard. “Not many. There was a father and daughter, but they checked out this morning. The only other person's an old guy who's staying in room 20, at the far end of the motel.”



“Very good. We're almost done, Christina. Just one last question, and this is the big one, okay? I need you to really think this over and make sure before you answer. Is Gaspar doing all this on his own, or does he have the backing of the Barros Cartel?”



Christina wiped her eyes, shaking her head again. “No. That first night, my mom said she overheard Gaspar talking to one of his other guys about how they were doing this on their own, and the cartel would thank them for it later.”



“You're positive?”



“Absolutely,” Christina insisted.



Missy thought this over. “Okay. Thank you. You've helped out a lot, maybe even more than you know. Now listen—I've got a plan, all right? I'm pretty positive I can make all this shit go away for you, but for that to happen, I need you to take your mom and get the fuck out of town for a couple of weeks.”



Christina's eyes widened. “Where?”



“Go anywhere you've never been before. Nowhere you've got any family or obvious connections. You have to disappear. Don't tell anyone, don't shut down the motel, just vanish completely until I call you. Go right away. Tonight. Do you understand?”



“Sure,” Christina said. “Do you really think you can make everything better?”



Yeah, Missy thought, drying off her hair. As a matter of fact, I think I've got a pretty good idea of how to do just that.





Chapter 33



Missy



As she drove, Missy dialed Hunter, putting the phone on speaker so she wouldn't have to drive while holding it.



He picked up immediately. “You okay?”



“Yep, we're all fine,” Missy assured him. “I'm heading back now. How about coming over in about an hour, so we can talk about what's next? You can collect Burger while you're at it. Come to think of it, you should probably bring Matches back with you too...I think he's getting a little fed up with being over there.”



“Well, we're all a little 'fed up' right now, so he can goddamn deal with it,” Hunter growled. “But yeah, I'll come by in an hour.”



“Cool. And by the way, Hunter?”



“Yeah?” Missy heard the tense, expectant tone in his voice, assuming she was about to use the code.



Missy smiled. “Eat shit.”



She heard Hunter laugh in spite of himself. “I fuckin' hate you, sis,” he said warmly.



“Hate you too, bro,” she replied cheerfully. “See you soon.” She ended the call.



Matches and Burger followed Missy back to Cain's place. As they pulled into the driveway, Missy saw that Cain was sitting in the garage with Keith and the other Eagles. Keith had a battered guitar in his lap, and he was playing an old Merle Haggard song as the rest of them sang along. When Cain looked up and saw that Missy had returned, the relief on his face was unmistakable.



Well I'll be damned, Missy thought. The big goon really does care about me after all.



The thought brought a smile to her face, and she waved. “Hey, you guys sound great!” she called out. “You should give up the outlaw life and form a band instead.”



“The way this shit's been going with Gaspar, we might not have much of a choice,” Keith grumbled.



Missy ignored this. She'd had a lot of experience deflecting sarcastic comments from sour-tempered bikers over the past couple of days. “Where'd you get the guitar?”



“It's mine,” Cain said. “I forgot I had it stashed in the back of my closet.”



“I didn't know you played,” said Missy.



“Yeah, I'll have to play you a song sometime,” Cain replied. “When this fucking cast comes off my arm, anyway.”