HARDCORE: Storm MC(68)

Tinny leaned over Cain, shining a small flashlight in his eyes. “Follow the light with your eyes, please,” Tinny said, moving it back and forth. “So, you're sure you'll be okay?”



“Absolutely,” Cain answered.



“Just a couple stitches, a splint, and some tape for the ribs, and you'll be all set?”



“Fuck yeah,” Cain agreed. “Maybe an aspirin or two.”



Tinny shrugged. “Okay, if you're sure. Go ahead and sit up so I can start on that arm.” Several of the Eagles moved forward to help Cain up, but Tinny put up a hand to stop them.



Cain put the palm of his good arm against the table and slowly propped himself into a sitting position. Once he had, the color drained from his face and he abruptly leaned forward, vomiting blood onto the floor. A few of the Eagles moaned with disgust.



“Jesus fucking Christ, Cain,” Hunter muttered worriedly.



Missy watched, trying to keep from retching herself. She considered herself pretty tough, but she was a sympathetic vomiter, and seeing the thick and nauseatingly vivid red torrent was almost too much for her.



Tinny raised his eyebrows at Cain. “Still think a couple stitches and a Nuprin will make everything better, tough guy? Or are you ready to leave the diagnosing to the professionals?”



“Fuck off, it's just a little puke,” Cain said shakily. “I'll be...”



“Cain, knock it off, okay?” Hunter said quietly. “You don't need to prove anything to anyone here. We all know you're a badass. But you need a goddamn hospital.”



“If I go to the hospital, they'll have to report my injuries to the cops,” Cain said. “Fuck that.”



“Let me worry about that,” Hunter insisted. “Come on, let's get you to the ER. Can you stand up?”



Cain dragged himself to his feet, swaying slightly. “Sure.”



“Glad to hear it,” Hunter said. “Keith, help him take the cut off. If the doctors see he's an Eagle, they'll be a lot more likely to call it in.” As he said this, Hunter walked toward the office.



Missy didn't bother pretending she hadn't been watching everything. She and Hunter knew each other too well for that. “So, did you enjoy the show?” Hunter asked her.



“Who did that to him?” she asked.



“We don't know yet, but we're gonna find out pretty fuckin' fast,” Hunter said. “Meanwhile, I need you to drive him to the hospital.”



“Sure,” Missy said, “but why me?”



“You're not an Eagle or a known outlaw,” Hunter replied, “so if you bring him in and say he had an accident, they'll be more inclined to believe you,”



“An accident?” Missy repeated incredulously. “What do you want me to tell them? That he fell down a flight of stairs and then got hit by a train?”



“I don't care if you tell ‘em that a pegasus descended from the sky, snatched him up, an’ dropped him from three thousand feet,” Hunter said irritably, “as long as whatever you tell them doesn't involve any crimes they'd need to report.”



“This plan seems kind of shaky, Hunter,” Missy protested. “Wouldn't it be better if he were, y'know, escorted by Keith and some of the other guys in case whoever it was tries to attack him again?”



“That's a risk we'll have to take so we can stay off the cops' radar long enough to find out who did it an’ handle our business. You said you wanted to do more for the club, right?” Hunter snapped impatiently. “You said you were up to it? That you could handle yourself as well as one of the guys? Well, now's your fuckin’ chance to prove it, so either do it or go back to weighin’ out dime bags. Just quit bitchin’ about it, because while you're standin’ here sassin’ me, Cain's in a real bad way and needs medical attention.”



“Okay, fine. I'll do it,” Missy said, grabbing her leather jacket from the back of her chair and putting it on. “I just have a bad feeling about it, that's all.”



“Yeah, well, join the fucking club,” Hunter grunted. “Besides, you can’t be hanging around here when the guy in the back starts screaming. And believe me, he will.”



Missy shuddered. She knew that plenty of men had been tortured in the Knife's supply room since the club was founded, but her father and brother had both done everything they could to make sure she was never there when it happened.



Missy followed Hunter to the bar's main area, where Keith had just finished carefully slipping Cain's vest off of him. Cain still seemed unsteady on his feet.



“Looks like I'm your ride,” Missy said to Cain. “Can you make it to the car by yourself, or do you need a hand?”