HARDCORE: Storm MC(146)
I looked around the street. Most of the houses were pretty depressed looking, but none as bad as Rae and Gigi’s. Two of the houses had cars outside, so I went to the closest house to see if I could find out anything. It was better than doing nothing.
I got an answer after a minute or two. “Yeah?” The woman standing in the doorway wore a housedress, curlers in her hair and slippers. There was some overwrought soap opera playing on the TV just beyond the door. I didn’t know there were any soaps still on TV.
“Sorry to bother you,” I said with what I hoped was a friendly smile. I didn’t want to come off condescending or panicky. “I’m Gigi’s teacher.” I pointed to the little house three doors down.
“Oh, Rae’s kid?”
“That’s right. She hasn’t been to school all week, and I was pretty worried about her. I wondered if you knew anything about her. Is she sick?”
“Oh, Rae didn’t tell you anything?”
“No, not at all.”
She smirked. “Not surprised, knowing her.”
“Where are they?”
“Rae dropped her off with her daddy earlier this week.”
“Her father? I never heard anything about her father.”
“That’s not a surprise either, considering.”
“Considering what?”
“Considering who he is.” She was so cryptic, so withholding, I thought I might scream.
“And who would that be?”
“He’s the leader of one of them whaddya call ’em, those motorcycle clubs.”
My blood ran cold. “Gigi’s father is in a motorcycle club?”
“Yup. I don’t think they exactly have what you’d call a relationship.” She shrugged. “But Rae said something about her little girl needing to know her daddy, and Rae didn’t look too happy when she said it. A little shaky, even. She was always getting into trouble, though. You know that, I bet.”
“Yeah, I know that.” I shuddered a little. A motorcycle club? That precious little girl? What the hell had Rae been thinking?
“Do you know which club he’s the head of? Gigi’s father?”
“Oh yeah. She said the name. Oh, what was it.” The woman looked up at the sky, thinking. “Somethin’ about a storm. What was it…oh! Fury’s Storm. That was it. I remember, it made me think of my stories.” She jerked her head in the direction of the TV.
“I won’t take you away from them anymore,” I said, thanking her for the information before hurrying back to my car.
A club? Fury’s Storm? Who in their right mind would leave a little girl in a motorcycle club? Had Rae gotten herself into trouble somehow? Was she on the run? It was literally the only excuse I could think of that even came close to making sense. Otherwise it sounded like a clear-cut case of neglect.
I looked up the club on my phone, hoping I could find some information on them. Where were they located? What was the name of the leader? Who was I looking for? It wouldn’t do to show up at their headquarters—if I managed to find it—without a name to reference. I had to show authority if I was going to convince him to give up his child to me. I didn’t know the first thing about those motorcycle people, but I had the impression from hearsay that they were very proud, very secretive. I didn’t want to upset anything, didn’t want them to close ranks and shut me out. Gigi’s life was in the balance.
Strangely enough, when I googled the name, an address to their headquarters came right up. I thought that was hilarious, but then again, maybe there was no reason for them to be secretive. Why hide who they were? I thought that was a good sign, that sort of transparency. It boded well.
Still, it was no environment for a little girl. My blood boiled when I thought about Rae leaving her child there. I turned on the engine and headed straight for the address in my GPS. I had my sights set on the club’s leader: Lance Richmond.
Chapter Two
Lance
When I woke up on Monday morning, I was still hung over from Saturday night. And I didn’t know the chick in bed beside me.
I rubbed my eyes, taking a chance on sitting up quickly before my head fell off. I held it in my hands, feeling it throb. I hardly remembered there being a Sunday, but I did remember hooking up with whatshername, the woman in bed. She didn’t come home with me on Saturday night. Saturday’s hookup had been a redhead. This one was a blonde.
My stomach felt like somebody had poured acid into it. I was getting too old to party the way I did, and I knew it. Still I did it because it was all I knew how to do. There were times when I would go all week long, drinking and screwing every night, hardly getting any sleep. Riding my bike, playing cards with my buddies, going to the bar or the strip club. Just an entire week of that, night after night, one day bleeding into the next day. I’d never feel the effect, ever.