by Vivian Gray
I didn’t even let myself consider the possibility that Trigger would be excited about the news. If I got my hopes up, it would only hurt worse if he decided he didn’t want anything to do with us. It would only make going through everything along that much harder. No, I had to stay practical. At best, he’d want every other weekend.
My mom gave me the address for the Broken Mavericks’ clubhouse. Her criminal connections had never come in handy before, not least of all because I had no interest in scoring drugs or whoring myself out, but now I realized there was a small upside to her lifestyle. I’d mentioned seeing the clubhouse to Trigger once before, but he told me it wasn’t a good idea.
“It’s a rough crowd,” he’d said, shrugging. “Nowhere you’d want to be.”
I didn’t know whether he’d said that just to keep me away, or if it was true. So, as I drove across town towards the clubhouse, I worried about what I would find there. Would it be like when I’d gone to get my mom from Buzz’s? Would I find myself in a situation I couldn’t get out of? It had been bad then, but it would be even worse now that I was pregnant. I had to be careful. I had to think about more than just my own safety.
But that was why I was going to the clubhouse in the first place. If I didn’t have a baby, I would have forgotten about Trigger. I liked him, yes. He was incredibly gorgeous, yes. I felt safe when I was with him, yes. However, I wasn’t in the habit of begging men to be with me. If he didn’t want to call or talk to me, if he didn’t want to see me anymore, then I would let it go. I wouldn’t dwell.
However, now my child was involved. I’d grown up without a father. I’d grown up with a lousy excuse for a mother. We’d been poor all of my life, always scraping by to even survive. I didn’t want that for my child or my family. I wanted something better for them. So, if there was even a slight chance that Trigger would want to be involved and help out, then I had to try.
The building was a low brick structure with tinted windows and a crumbling parking lot. Motorcycles were lined up all along the front of the building, parked at an angle. Even having seen Trigger’s motorcycle a few times, I had no way to know which one was his or whether he was even inside.
I pulled my car into a space at the back of the lot closest to the road, took a deep breath, and got out. Even though the windows were dark, I saw light peeking out around the edges, and the faint sound of rock music floated in the evening air – electric guitars and screaming voices juxtaposed with the quiet hum of cicadas.
In my car, it had been easy to psych myself up. I’d repeated the same rant over and over in my head, trying to memorize it, so I’d be able to tell Trigger everything I wanted to say to him. But now, standing in front of the clubhouse, the words had left my brain. The only things I had room for were nerves and uncertainty.
I’d imagined a locked door and a secret password to get inside, but the reality was that the front door was open and unguarded. I stepped into the building, which smelled strongly of cigarette smoke and mildew and made my way through a small lobby space towards a set of double doors.
As I pulled the doors open, the muffled voices I’d heard in the lobby blossomed into full sounds – laughter and conversation and shouting. It took a few seconds for eyes to turn towards me. It began slowly, the men sitting nearest the door, all tatted and donning leather pants and vests and bandanas, took me in, looking me up and down.
Then, the men in the middle of the room noticed the sudden quiet and turned to look, and within fifteen seconds, the entire room had taken notice. There were a few women sprinkled around the room, all of them sporting heavy makeup and little clothing. One girl had her legs wrapped around a man’s waist, and I was convinced they were having sex right there in front of everyone.
Trigger had been right. This wasn’t where I wanted to be. My eyes searched the room frantically, hoping to see Trigger’s familiar face, but the corners of the room were too dark to see properly. Trying to look like I belonged, I stepped into the room, edging towards the right side, hugging the wall. And no sooner had I cleared the doorway than a loud bang came from the lobby. I was grateful because it drew everyone’s attention away from me, but then chaos descended.
I noticed the smell of gunpowder before my brain recognized the sound of guns firing. Men poured in through the door I’d just been standing in, guns pointed into the crowd. Before I even had time to be afraid, tables were overturned. The Broken Mavericks were firing back from behind tables and couches, from behind the bar.
I dropped to my knees and crawled towards a side door that people were filing out of. I tried not to look at the bodies lying on the ground. I couldn’t stop and help anyone, anyway. I needed to get out and protect my baby.
Bullet holes ripped through the tables and walls. I heard people screaming and groaning all around me. I heard the constant thud of bodies hitting the floor, of people falling who would perhaps never get up again. I couldn’t tell which side was winning. I didn’t even know who the shooters were. I assumed I’d stepped into some turf war between warring motorcycle clubs.
Wrong place, wrong time.
Briefly, as I crawled across the floor, ducking from shield to shield, I wondered what would be said about me if I died in the clubhouse? What would people think? What would my mom think? And what would happen to her? She would probably go back to her previous life, except this time, I wouldn’t be there to make sure we weren’t evicted. I wouldn’t be there to stock the fridge so she would have something to eat when she came home from one of her multiple day binges, malnourished and dehydrated. She would be alone, and most likely, dead within the month.
I shook my head, pushing the thought from my mind. I couldn’t think about any of that. I had to get out. The floor was dirty, and debris from the shattered wood tables and chairs bit into my hands and knees, but I kept going, navigating through spilled drinks and other liquids I was too busy ignoring to identify.
A woman screamed next to me and fell, her hands wrapped around her leg, blood oozing between her fingers. She rolled onto her side and looked up at me, mascara running down her cheeks. I hesitated. She was small and had one good leg. I could maybe drag her along behind me. If she could get to the hallway, maybe she’d stand a chance.
I debated the thought for a moment more and then reached for her arm. As soon as my hand wrapped around her wrist, someone yanked me off the floor by my hair. I screamed and kicked out, but all I found was air.
“What a surprise,” a deep voice shouted, the words slurring. “Are you a club girl now? A Broken Mavericks’ groupie?”
Something about the voice registered as familiar in the back of my mind, though it took me a few seconds to place. By the time I did, Buzz had his meaty hands wrapped around my arms, and he was hauling me towards the door that I’d just been trying to escape through.
“Let me go,” I begged, thrashing against him, though it was useless.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” he asked, mocking me. “No one here to save you this time?”
“Why are you doing this? What do you want with me?”
We were moving down the hallway, deeper into the building. But then we turned a corner, and I could see another exit. It would lead towards the side of the building where I’d noticed an alley as I was walking in.
“Your boyfriend and his MC ruined my business. Everyone in town is too afraid to buy from me, and once the Broken Mavericks cut ties with me, I won’t have any more product. They have taken everything from me, so I came to get my revenge. I rounded up the last of my friends in this city, and anyone who has ever had a beef with the Mavericks, and brought them here.”
He stopped walking and shoved me up against the wall, my arms pinned to my side. I tried to lift them, but Buzz was much too strong. The collar of his shirt was soaked with sweat, his swollen pink cheeks bulging around his eye sockets. He pressed his body against mine and bent down to sniff my hair. Then his tongue swiped along my earlobe. I pulled as far away from him as I could.
“You were just a happy accident. I saw Trigger take off earlier tonight, so when he gets back, he’ll see all of his friends dead, and then I’ll let him watch me torture you.”
A sob broke from between my lips. “I’m not with Trigger. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”
Buzz looked at me for a moment, assessing what I was saying, and then shrugged. “Even if he doesn’t care, I’ll finally get the fuck you owe me.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but then Buzz’s fist came down hard on my head, and everything went black.
***
Trigger
For the first time, a long evening ride did little to ease the tension in my shoulders. I got off the freeway, flying down the exit ramp towards the clubhouse, feeling just as stressed and uncertain about everything as I had when I’d left. I’d been riding so long, I was running low on gas, and my legs felt numb from the vibrations. But if I could have, I would have kept riding all night.
Even from a few blocks away, I saw the full line of bikes parked outside the clubhouse and groaned a little. I was hoping the place would be quiet so I could think in peace. When the building was at maximum capacity, it was impossible to find any place to be alone and think. And Dean especially would be hounding me about Kenna, plodding me with drinks so I’d get drunk enough to give him her number or admit my feelings.
The problem was that I didn’t know my own feelings. I liked Kenna. I liked her more than I’d liked anyone for a long time. But I didn’t know if it was enough to commit to her. Or enough to commit to being a father. Because I had no idea what it meant to be a father. My dad had left when I was too small to remember, so I didn’t have a great example to pull from. And what if I did decide to try and take care of the kid and I only messed it up? What if I ended up leaving them and ruining their lives the way my dad had ruined mine?
I was at the end of the block when I finally pulled my phone out of my pocket. I’d silenced it during the ride so I wouldn’t be distracted by any more calls from Kenna. I wasn’t ready to talk to her just yet, and I wasn’t sure I would be able to ignore another call from her. When the screen turned on, I saw fifteen missed calls and too many missed texts to count. None of them were from Kenna though. They were all from my MC brothers.
I hit the brakes as soon as my bike was in the parking lot and flicked through the text messages.
Clubhouse under attack
Gunfight at the club
Buzz attacked us
I looked up from my phone. The parking lot was completely normal. Nothing was going on that would lead me to expect a gunfight inside. Still, I grabbed my gun from my hip and ran towards the front doors.
I knew Buzz was angry about the Broken Mavericks cutting off business ties with him. It would be a huge hit to his dealing, but I’d never expected him to be a threat. And if he were, it would be to people like Kenna and her mom – women who were too small to defend themselves against his sheer size.
I never expected he would do anything to the Broken Mavericks in retaliation. For one, I didn’t think he had the manpower for something like a full-scale attack. He must have teamed up with another group of people, though I had no idea who it could have been.
How many men had I lost because of this? Part of me didn’t want to go inside and find out. I wanted to turn around and leave, pretend none of it happened. But another much larger part of me felt ashamed I hadn’t been in the building when it all started. I should have been there. And I would have been if it hadn’t been for Kenna.
She dropped the baby bomb on me, and I’d stretched my ride out to several hours longer than normal. I let myself get distracted. I let a woman pull my focus away from the club, away from what mattered. The Broken Mavericks depended on me to make decisions and lead them, and it had been my decision to cut ties with Buzz, which meant it was my fault he had shown up with guns and a small army. I should have been there when he arrived.
Shame rose up in me in an angry wave as I neared the front door. Never again. I wouldn’t let Kenna or anyone else pull my focus. I’d give her money, pay for the kid, whatever she needed. But I can’t be a dad or a husband. Not while also leading the Broken Mavericks. I’d pledged my loyalty to them first, so it was the bond I needed to honor.
Chapter Eleven
Trigger
The building was always full of music and raucous drunks, so it wasn’t unusual for a fog of sound to hang over the lot, but the closer I got to the building, the more I could distinguish the difference between the distant screams and cracks of gunfire and the usual party noise. I readied my gun, kicked open the door, and ran inside.
Bullet holes riddled the wall and double doors that led into the great room. Tables were flipped over, drinks spilled, alcohol mixing with thick rivers of blood, and bodies. I didn’t look at their faces because I knew I didn’t have time to mourn. Not yet. I had to find Buzz and end this.
Shots rang out all around me. Men were hunkered down behind couches and the bar and tables, shielding themselves from the bullets. Occasionally, they would jump up and let off a few shots before hiding again. A couple of men, apparently out of bullets, were wrestling in a back corner.
It took me a second to recognize the smaller man as Dean. He grabbed a half-empty bottle from the bar behind him and cracked it over his opponent’s head. The man seemed dazed, but he was already rising to his feet for round two.
I ran around the edge of the room until I had a good line of sight and shot him in the leg. He screamed and fell, both hands grasping the bloody wound in his thigh. Dean looked around and then offered a quick smile when he saw me. Then, he was back into the fight.
“Where have you been, Trigger?”
I turned around and saw Patch, a tall bear of a man folded in on himself like origami. He was huddled behind an overturned armchair. The fabric was frayed and stained. A smoking bullet hole had ripped through the center cushion just above Patch’s ear.
I ducked down in front of him. “Have you seen Buzz?”
A shot rang out, and Patch dropped down flat to the floor, reloading his weapon. “He walked through a few minutes ago with a girl,” he said, breathless.
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know, man. I’m a little busy here,” Patch said as he rolled onto his stomach, aimed his gun around the side of the chair, and rattled off a few shots. “Where the hell have you been?”
I knew I would be fielding a lot of questions like that if I survived the night, but I didn’t have time for them now. I tapped Patch on the back, told him to stay safe, and kept walking at a crouch.
I was moving through the room towards the side door when I saw a flash in the corner of my eye. I looked over just as a bearded man I didn’t recognize darted from behind an upturned table, gun aimed at my head, and fired. I dove sideways, my shoulder smashing into the tile floor with a crunch I knew would hurt like hell later and rolled onto my stomach.
I came up on my knees and pointed my weapon at the man. He wasn’t as quick as I was. I pulled the trigger, and a second later his body blew back with the force of the bullet. I didn’t hang around to see if it was a kill shot.
The hallway was dark, most of the lights blown out, and unlike the great room, no windows to illuminate anything. I felt my way along the wall as my eyes adjusted. A human shape was slumped against the wall, and I accidentally kicked it. There were a groan and a curse, enough for me to know the person was alive.
“Hang on,” I said. “I’ll come back for you.”
“Shit, Trig. You scared me,” the man said. I couldn’t recognize his voice, but he obviously knew me.
“You seen Buzz come through here?”
“Mmh-hmh.” He paused to take a loud swallow and a deep breath. “Barreled through here a few minutes ago, nearly broke my back. He was dragging someone with him.”
“Okay. Hang on. I’m gonna kill him, and this will be over.”
“Good luck, Trig.”
My eyes had adjusted we
ll enough that I could see the shape of the hallway and the patch of yellow light at the fork in the hallway, coming from an exit door that led into the alley. If Buzz had come through here, that was probably where he would be. I rolled my head on my shoulders and lifted my gun.
As I turned the corner, the long hallway stretched in front of me like an optical illusion. The glass door at the end was illuminated in the artificial light from the streetlight in the alley, and it glowed like a light at the end of a tunnel, blinding me for a moment.
Then, I saw a hulking shape step in front of the light.
“I’m not with Trigger. He doesn’t even know I’m here.” I recognized Kenna’s voice immediately. It was strangled and terrified, but clearly her.