HARDCORE: Storm MC(60)

“That area back there was full of broken glass, rusty nails, dog shit, and snakes,” Cain replied. “So I figure this hypothetical toddler of yours has worse shit to worry about. Especially since if she's staying here, it probably means her mom is a hooker and her daddy's on meth.”



“That's a good point,” Keith conceded. “Still, we're a few seconds away from entering a room that's got a bathroom in it.”



“Oh, yeah? And how's that scene gonna play out, do you think?” Cain smirked. “'Hey, assholes, we're here to collect what you owe us and let you know that if you ever sell without our permission again, we're gonna cut your fucking throats and yank your tongues out through the holes. Oh, but listen, before we go, can my friend and I hit up your bathroom for a tinkle? My molars are floating.'”



“Well, I'm damn sure gonna say somethin' like that,” Keith answered.



“You're joking,” Cain said.



Keith shook his head. “Nope. Too late. We been talkin' about it so much that now I have to go. An' I ain't gonna do it on the ground like some kinda dog. My mother raised me better than that.”



Cain rolled his eyes. “All right. Guess we'd better get this over with, then.”



The two Blood Eagles walked up to the door marked “19” and Cain knocked on it loudly.



It would only take seven minutes to make him wish he hadn't.





Chapter 2



Missy



The alarm on Missy's cell phone went off and her arm shot out to silence it before she was even fully awake. She pulled off her sleep mask, squinted, and opened her eyes slowly, letting out a small groan. The sun was setting, which meant it was time for her to get up. Most of the Blood Eagles' business was done at night, which meant that for her and Hunter, the day began when most people's ended.



It took some effort for Missy to convince her body to get out of bed. This wasn't because she hadn't gotten enough sleep—she was a heavy sleeper and had managed a solid nine hours. It was because as the den mother to the Eagles, her daily routine almost never changed, and it generally wasn't very exciting.



Wake up, brush teeth, get dressed, make breakfast for herself and Hunter, head over to the Lost Knife, tend bar, politely fend off the advances of a dozen or so drunken perverts, collect the Eagles' profits from their various drug deals and shake-downs, count it, weigh out the pot and pills into their appropriate baggies, go home, do some cleaning, cook dinner, have a few drinks, go to sleep, and then do the whole thing again tomorrow. And the day after that. Seven days a week, every week of the year. The Eagles and their customers didn't take weekends or holidays off.



Just once, Missy thought, it would be nice to at least wake up knowing there's something new waiting for me.



“Sis? You up?” Hunter called from downstairs.



“Yeah, yeah, I'm up,” Missy answered. She tried not to snap, but it came out a little bitchy anyway. “I'll be down in a minute. Just put the coffee on, okay?”



“Fine, jeez,” Hunter muttered. “You don't need to bite my head off.” She heard his heavy footsteps trudging toward the kitchen.



Missy rolled out of bed in her panties and walked over to her dresser, pulling out socks, jeans, and a t-shirt. The ensemble she chose wasn’t meant to be sexy. But as she got dressed and glanced in the mirror, she knew that she'd get plenty of flirtatious remarks tonight anyway like she always did, just like she knew she'd be going home alone at the end of the night.



The Eagles could be a fun group of guys. Some were funny, some were smart—or at least smarter than most people would expect bikers to be—and some were even kind of handsome. But all in all, the ones who chose to hit on her were a bunch of scruffy, smelly, good-natured gearheads who reminded Missy of her father and brother, and she knew that sex with them would feel incestuous. The only other men who visited the Lost Knife were generally clean-cut wimps who'd accidentally wandered into the wrong bar or criminals that the Eagles did business with. Neither appealed to her.



So Missy stayed single, which suited her fine. She knew there were occasional rumors floating around the clubhouse that she was a lesbian, especially after she'd kicked the living hell out of Marian in front of the whole MC. Those rumors didn't bother her, and whenever she got lonely, the vibrator in the drawer next to her socks kept her company.



Besides, it wasn't like she could bring guys home and fuck them in the house she shared with her older brother. The house had belonged to their parents, and they owned it free and clear. Since most of their income came from illegal activities, it wasn't practical for either of them to move out and get places of their own.