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HARDCORE: Storm MC(150)

By:Zoey Parker




“It’s okay. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.” I reached toward her to pat her on the back, but she flinched away. Crawling to the corner of the sofa, she drew her knees up to her chest and held them in place, arms wrapped around them.



I looked at Flash, then got up and crossed the room to him.



I leaned toward him, whispering. “We need to find Rae, fast.”



“Jesus, I haven’t seen her in years.”



“Yeah, no shit.” I glanced over at Gigi. Still crying.



“Any ideas?”



“None. Kid doesn’t know, of course. Call up a few of the guys and hit the streets. Start asking questions. I hate to say it, but maybe start with the dealers. They might know.” Flash snickered in disgust. I couldn’t disagree with him.



“You gonna be okay here with her? All alone?”



“We won’t be alone for long.” The girls would be in soon, and they’d take care of her. Good thing, too, because I needed time to think. “Don’t waste time out there, either. I want her outta here as soon as possible. This is bullshit. A kid in the clubhouse.”



“Got it.” Flash left, talking on his phone. Gathering some of the guys to hit the streets. When I got my hands on Rae, I would strangle the shit out of her for what she was doing to me. Leaving a kid on the doorstep.



I watched as Flash rode away, the sound of Gigi crying filling my ears.



It looked like I was a daddy.





Chapter Three



Jamie





It was dinnertime by the time I pulled up in front of the clubhouse. The building was ominous, reminding me of a hulking warehouse. I wondered if anybody lived there, and what the conditions could possibly be like inside the building. A little girl was in there. Not just a little girl, but Gigi. I couldn’t imagine it.



A row of bikes sat out front along the wall leading to the door. They were all roughly the same. I had never understood the appeal of motorcycles. I liked a little more metal between myself and the road. Maybe it was the crash I once witnessed as a kid. A man wiped out on his bike not fifty feet from where my dad had stopped our car at a red light. The man on the bike ran the light and was hit by a car in the intersection. After almost twenty years, I still hadn’t forgotten the way he flew through the air, and the sickening thud as he hit the ground. Something like that was enough to get a kid away from motorcycles for their entire life.



My hands were shaking, I realized. What sort of men were inside the building? Who were they? What did they do besides ride their motorcycles? I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know. The club members were notorious for getting into trouble—bar fights, vandalism, disorderly conduct, plus rumors of other even less savory activities. I shivered, not wanting to go inside. They weren’t exactly my cup of tea.



Then I thought about Gigi. None of it was about me. It was all about her. With that in mind, I got out of the car, my hands clenched into fists. I was ready to defend myself no matter what it took. As long as I got her out of there safe and sound.



I knocked on the door. I saw light coming from inside and heard the sound of voices. A girl came to the door. She was probably barely legal, wearing more makeup at one time than I’d worn in my entire life.



“Yeah?” She looked me up and down, sneering a little. I tried to hide my distaste.



“I’m here for Gigi.” My voice was strong, demanding. I couldn’t be intimidated by her or any of them. My hands were still clenched in fists at my sides.



Her face changed, softened. “Are you her mom?”



“No. So she’s here?”



“Yeah. Who are you?” Just then, the girl was brushed aside. A man took her place at the door, and he was much bigger and more intimidating than she was. I felt my resolve weaken, then reminded myself again of why I was there.



Holy hell, I realized. He was her father. There was no denying it. They had the same eyes, steel gray, and the same nose and cheeks. She was his.



“Are you Gigi’s father?”



“Like my friend here asked, who the hell are you?” He had a menacing growl to his voice.



“I’m her teacher. I’m Jamie Hollis.” I raised my voice to be heard over the voices inside.



“Miss Jamie!” The sound was music to my ears, and tears sprang to my eyes when I saw Jamie running toward me. I bent, scooping her up into a bear hug.



“Oh, sweetie! We missed you so much in school this week!” I held her, breathing her in. She was safe. My heart was so full of relief I could hardly think straight.



I stepped into the clubhouse, not caring whether or not I was welcome, and looked her over. “Are you okay?” I asked.