HARDCORE: Storm MC(79)

He took a deep breath, jammed the key into the lock, turned it, and burst into the living room with his gun pointed.



Cain was sprawled on the couch, snoring heavily. He was fully dressed, and he even still had his boots on. Hunter figured it had probably been too painful for him to pull them off himself. The TV was on with the volume up loud as it played an old black-and-white cowboy movie.



Cain's face was still swollen and puffy, the bruises a deep shade of purple. There were a few stitches here and there on his face, but the ones on his scalp practically made him look like a baseball. The broken arm was draped across the scarred and cigarette-burned coffee table where two bottles of pills stood open.



Poor bastard, Hunter thought. I should have done a better job keeping you safe. I don't know how, but goddamn it, I'm your president and it was my duty to look out for you, and here you are with more stitches in you than a three-piece suit.



Out loud, Hunter had been more than willing to blame Keith, which was entirely logical. But deeper down in the less-logical recesses of his heart, Hunter couldn't stop blaming himself.



Hunter bent down and picked up the pill bottles, examining them. One was hydrocodone to dull the pain, and the other was benzodiazepine to help Cain sleep through whatever the hydrocodone couldn't take away. Hunter had sold enough pills in his life to recognize how potent and highly addictive both of them were, especially if taken in the high dosages recommended on the bottles he was holding.



He winced. The Eagles could be hard drinkers and they never shied away from smoking weed at parties, or even enjoying a bit of acid or E now and then. But the use of heavier drugs was strictly prohibited in the club, since perpetually stoned or strung-out members couldn't be trusted to look out for their brothers. Cain had never shown any propensity for violating these rules, and he usually even waved away the offers of joints since he insisted on staying clear-headed in case an emergency came up.



So, if he was taking these drugs, Hunter couldn't even imagine the kind of pain he must have been in.



Hunter grabbed Cain's left boot and pulled it off for him, then did the same for the right one. Cain stirred faintly and mumbled a mouthful of muddy gibberish before settling back into sleep again.



“Get some rest, brother,” Hunter said quietly.



He knew he couldn't let Cain stay here by himself when he couldn't even undress properly or go out for groceries. But he also knew Cain's fierce pride would drive him to reject offers of help from fully-patched Eagles, since he'd figure they should be busy protecting Hunter and the Lost Knife instead of helping him out of his shirt and pants. Even if Hunter assigned Eagles to help him under the guise of protecting him from another attack, Cain would probably still say no.



Suddenly, Hunter had an idea.



He stepped out onto the front porch and dialed his cell phone. After a couple of rings, Missy picked up. She sounded like she'd just woken up.



“Hey, where are you?” Missy said groggily.



“I'm at Cain's.”



“Oh. Do you want me to go to the Knife after all?” Missy asked. “'Cause I've still got a few hours and I was hoping for a little more sleep, but if you need me to come in early...”



“No, I want you to stay away from the Knife for a few days,” Hunter replied. “I dunno if it's gonna be safe there. In fact, I kinda doubt it.”



“Oh, but you'll still be hanging out there, though, right?” Missy sneered. “Typical. You can lecture me all you want about my safety, but whenever yours comes up...”



“We don't got time for that argument right now, sis,” Hunter said, fighting back his impatience. Damn, but she could be infuriating sometimes. “There's somethin' else I want you to do instead of bartending an' the rest of that shit. Somethin' a lot more important.”



“Yeah?” Missy asked, her voice sharpening with interest. “Cool, I'm down. What is it?”



“I need you to come to Cain's place an' make sure he's okay,” said Hunter.



“But you said you're already there.”



“Yeah, but I gotta go meet with the guys an' figure out what to do next. I'm going to leave the spare key under the mat. I need someone to hang out here for a few hours, to make sure that Cain's got everything he needs. If he's hungry, cook something for him.”



There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.



“Sis? You still there?”



“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Missy said.



“Hey, you said you wanted to do more for the club, so...”



“Yeah, okay, I fell for that line last night and did what you asked,” Missy replied sharply. “But come on, you know this isn't the kind of stuff I had in mind.”