Trigger: Broken Mavericks MC

by Vivian Gray

  I froze, surprised. What in the hell was she doing here? I’d never even told her where the clubhouse was. Buzz stepped away from her, and their shadows separated into two. I saw Kenna’s thin frame leaning against the wall, her chest heaving.

  “Even if he doesn’t care, I’ll finally get the fuck you owe me,” Buzz said in a slurred snarl.

  My muscles clenched in anger. I would kill him. I’d saved Kenna from him twice and made it more than clear that he needed to stay away from her. And Buzz had made it more than clear that he had no intention of doing that. He would never stop coming after her. So, I would have to make sure he was incapable of doing so.

  Before I could even move, Buzz raised his arm and brought his fist down on Kenna’s head. She slumped, and before her knees could even buckle, Buzz had her over his shoulder and was carrying her out the door.

  “Hey!” I shouted just as Buzz opened the alley door and stepped outside.

  I was running after them, but it felt as if I was running through quicksand, as though no matter how fast I ran, I would never reach the end of the hallway. I pumped my arms, lowered my head, and gave it my all, but when I ran through the door, Buzz’s car was already disappearing around the corner, and Kenna was nowhere in sight.

  I took off around the front corner of the building, headed for my bike. As I ran, I noticed Kenna’s car parked in the very front of the lot closest to the street. I hadn’t noticed it when I’d first pulled in. Had she come to see me because I wouldn’t call her back? Was this all my fault? Buzz had probably come to get revenge on me and the Broken Mavericks and finding Kenna had been a happy surprise for him.

  By the time I got on my bike and followed the path Buzz’s car had taken, there was no sight of them. I hadn’t been fast enough. I threw my head back and cursed into the wind as I rode, panic tightening my chest. Buzz would be an idiot to take her back to his crack house, knowing that would be the first place I would look, but Buzz was an idiot. So, I tore across town towards the place where I’d first met and saved Kenna.

  Buzz’s car wasn’t anywhere around the building, but I still parked the bike and charged into the building anyway. I didn’t want to make any assumptions and lose Kenna for good. The house was empty and eerily silent. I heard the foundation settling as I moved through the hallways and into the room where I’d first seen Kenna, half-naked and trembling.

  But now, there was no Kenna, no Buzz, no slumped druggies along the periphery of the room. Just millions of particles of dust floating in the moonlight flowing through the cracks around the windows and the smell of mildew. I ran from the house and jumped on my bike. Where would Buzz go?

  I drove to every motorcycle club, druggie hideout, and nearby dealer I could think of. I drove past the diner where Kenna worked, able to see through the large glass windows along the front of the building that she wasn’t inside. I stopped at her house and looked through the windows and saw her mom sleeping on the couch. The rest of the house was dark and quiet. I scoured the city in search of Kenna.

  Part of it was out of a kind of responsibility. Kenna was in this situation because of me. Because Buzz wanted revenge on me, and he knew hurting Kenna would get to me. But there was another reason as well. Despite what I’d thought back at the clubhouse, before going into the fight, I cared about Kenna.

  The thought that Buzz could be hurting her, that he would lay his filthy hands on her, made me crazy. And even more surprising, I couldn’t stop thinking about our unborn child. What would I do if Buzz did something to Kenna that hurt our child?

  A rage I didn’t understand urged me forward. I coaxed my bike faster and faster, running through lights and stop signs, desperate to find them before anything could happen. I needed a chance to make things right, to tell Kenna I’d be there for her through anything. I needed a chance to be a better father than either Kenna or I had ever had. I had to save them.

  ***

  Kenna

  My eyelids felt glued shut and the top of my head pulsed with a painful headache, as if my brain were trying to force its way out of my skull. I lifted my limbs one at a time, testing them to make sure they worked. I felt slow and heavy, and I couldn’t understand where I was or how I’d gotten there. I didn’t feel capable of thinking about anything except the pain.

  The ground beneath me was hard and cold, and dust coated my fingers as I felt around, trying to get a sense of where I was. With every attempted blink, it felt easier to peel back my eyes, but the little bit of light that was in the room was harsh and artificial. It burned the backs of my eyelids and sent a bolt of searing pain through my head. I’d never had a concussion before, but I had a suspicion it felt an awful lot like what I was experiencing.

  It felt like I was underwater, unsure of which way was up. I lifted my neck and realized I was laying on the ground. I scooted myself into a sitting position, my palms flat and firm against the ground and tried opening my eyes again. I blinked against the bright light, letting stinging tears pour from my eyes until the burning faded and I could see.

  The room around me was empty and unfinished. Bare panels of sheetrock covered the walls, and the floor was unfinished concrete, covered in piles of dirt and dust. The bright light came from a battery-operated flashlight. The kind you would see at a construction site. I listened, but everything was quiet. How had I gotten here?

  My stomach rumbled, hunger rising up in me even in the direst of circumstances. I ran my hand along my stomach to calm it, and then my eyes flew wide. My hand splayed across my stomach, and I inhaled sharply.

  Memories of Buzz finding me in the Broken Mavericks’ clubhouse came flooding back. I remembered him hitting me in the head just before everything went dark, which explained my headache. But after that, there was nothing. What had happened in that time span? Had something happened that would hurt my baby?

  I gently massaged my fingers against my flat stomach, wishing more than anything that I could feel the baby move, find some sort of reassurance. I knew it was much too soon for anything like that, but I held my hand to my stomach anyway. Desperate to know everything would be okay.

  I was ashamed to admit that I’d thought about having a miscarriage a few times. Wouldn’t it be convenient if my body could just end this? If this problem could just go away? I had no idea how I would afford to take care of a child. I didn’t have the time or the money or the resources. Who would throw me a baby shower? Wasn’t that where everyone got the essentials for their babies?

  I didn’t have any friends or a mom who cared enough to bother. I had very little at my disposal. I also couldn’t have an abortion. Even though I knew it was an option, it wasn’t an option for me. I would never forgive myself if I did something like that, and the guilt I knew I would feel wasn’t worth it. But still, I’d thought that maybe I would get lucky, and a miscarriage would happen.

  But now, lying on the concrete floor of whatever abandoned building Buzz had taken me to, I wished for my baby’s safety. I prayed fervently that everything would be okay. And it was how I knew I wanted to be a mom. No matter how difficult it would be or how impossible my circumstances, I wanted to build a better life for my child than the one I’d had.

  I wanted to be a better mom than my own mother. Even if Trigger wanted nothing to do with me or his child, I wanted to give my baby everything I had, even if it wasn’t much, and love them every minute. I just had to get out of whatever hell I’d fallen into.

  Heavy footsteps alerted me to someone walking into the room, and I pulled my hands from my stomach. I wasn’t sure yet if I wanted Buzz or anyone holding me captive to know I was pregnant. Rather than inspire mercy, it might just become a new way for them to torture me.

  Buzz rounded the corner, and when he saw me, a malicious smile spread across his face, his lips peeled back to show his yellow teeth.

  “Awake, are we? You’ve been out for a while. Did you have a good nap?”

  I didn’t respond, though I sat up straighter, hoping to give off the illusi
on of strength even though I still felt groggy and unsteady.

  Buzz crossed the room and stood a few feet away from me, his arms crossed over his barrel chest. Every time I saw him, I was astounded by his size. By the width of his shoulders, the thickness of his neck, the span of his hands. It would be so easy for him to crush me, to dispose of me without anyone ever knowing.

  “I didn’t know you’d be at the clubhouse when I scheduled the attack, but what a wonderful surprise. I’ve ruined Trigger’s home base, and now I’ll ruin his little slut.”

  “I don’t belong to him,” I snapped back. “We aren’t even together. He doesn’t care about me.”

  Buzz shrugged. “I suppose we’ll put that to the test. I’m going to let him know I have you, and we’ll see what he thinks.”

  Trigger hadn’t contacted me in weeks, and he hadn’t called me back once in the past few days. Either I had a bad number, or he didn’t care. The only thing I could hope for was that Trigger’s humanity would kick in. Even if he didn’t want to be with me, hopefully, he’d care whether I lived or died. Hopefully, he would try to save me.

  However, I didn’t feel like a rescue would be very likely. Buzz wouldn’t tell Trigger about his plans for me in the hopes that Trigger would save me. No, what he wanted, surely, was for Trigger to arrive too late, for him to find me bloody and lifeless on the floor. He wanted to torture Trigger by torturing me.

  Buzz took a step towards me, his meaty hands reaching out for me, and I flinched away from him, crumpling into a ball on the floor.

  “Now, now,” Buzz said, grunting as he leaned over. “No need to be shy. We are going to get to know one another very well throughout the night.”

  I shivered at his words, disgusted and terrified about what the hours ahead would hold.

  He grabbed each of my legs and spread them wide. Then he placed his legs between mine, keeping me from crumpling back up. His legs were sweaty against my skin, and I wanted to crawl away from him, but I knew it would be useless.

  Buzz clawed at the thin material of my shirt and yanked it over my head, pulling my hair along with it. Goose bumps rose up along my exposed skin as he threw my shirt over his shoulder. It landed on the concrete floor behind him.

  “You’re a lovely thing,” Buzz said, one finger trailing across my collarbone and down between my breasts.

  Then his gentleness was gone, and he grabbed the material of my bra and gave it a quick tug. I heard the stitches ripping. He tugged twice more, and the fabric fell to the floor in tattered pieces. He could have just undone the snaps in the back, but it would have been too civilized. Buzz not only wanted to undress me, but he also wanted to diminish me, to shame me.

  He leaned back and stared at my bare chest. I glared up at him, trying my hardest not to blink. I wanted him to know I wasn’t afraid of him. And it was true. Buzz was a weak man. A coward who felt most powerful when he was preying on weak, vulnerable women. He didn’t scare me.

  Rather, I was afraid of the pain I might feel, of how long the torture would last. It was the same as the difference between being afraid of the dark and being afraid of what is in the dark. It’s a subtle, yet important distinction.

  Buzz ran his fingers down my stomach and into the waistband of my shorts. He wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me as he pulled the shorts free.

  “I want Trigger to see what he will miss when you’re gone,” Buzz said, throwing my shorts to the side. “I want him to see exactly what I’m taking from him.”

  It was as good as an admission. Buzz intended to kill me. If it were up to Buzz, there would be no escape for me. Unless someone intervened, my baby and I would be dead. The thought, rather than horrifying me, gave me a strange kind of strength. It helped me know what to expect and how better to prepare for it.

  If I wanted any chance of being free, I had to keep my wits about me. I had to be on the lookout for any chance of escape. I couldn’t cower in fear and hope for mercy. I would have to keep my eyes open and my mind focused.

  For whatever reason, Buzz left my underwear on, and I was grateful. Though it did little to cover me, it was one less line that had been crossed. One more barrier that existed between him and me.

  Buzz pulled a length of rope from behind him and began wrapping it around my ankles. He sawed it short with a pocket knife and then began to do the same around my wrists. The rope was rough, and I could already feel it biting into my skin, rubbing everything raw. He tugged on the rope to ensure it was tight enough and then lifted himself to his feet with a huff and stomped across the room.

  He was gone only a few seconds, and when he returned, a phone was clutched in his hands. He pointed it at me and smiled.

  “Can you say your name for me, dear?” he asked, his voice sickly sweet and mocking.

  I realized that he was recording, and my stomach clenched. I bent my arms over my chest but didn’t lower my face. I wouldn’t do that in his presence. I wouldn’t be ashamed. I had nothing to be ashamed of. Buzz was the monster.

  “Come on now. For the camera,” he said, kicking my bound ankles.

  “Kenna,” I said through clenched teeth.

  He nodded in approval. “Can you wiggle a little? I want everyone at home to see how tight your bindings are.”

  I tried to pull each of my wrists free, but they wouldn’t budge. Buzz reached down and tugged on the rope around my ankles, lifting my legs into the air. I winced as the rough rope scratched against my skin and he laughed.

  “I was a boy scout as a kid. It wasn’t very helpful, except for all the knots.”

  Buzz reached into the front pocket of his shorts and pulled out a handkerchief. He stepped towards me, the camera less than a foot away from my face and shoved the handkerchief between my lips. I clenched my teeth, but Buzz pinched the skin under my arm hard until I opened my mouth and he could shove it in. The dirty fabric filled my mouth and instantly sucked the moisture from my tongue. I coughed, trying to force it out, but it was useless.

  “You can’t scream,” Buzz said, running his fingers across my lips. “And even if you could, no one would hear you. You can’t move.” He ran his hands down my arms and played with the bindings again. Then he trailed his hands up my stomach and circled my breasts with his sweaty fingers. “And even if you could move, I could overpower you. You belong completely to me now. Do you understand?”

  I didn’t move or say anything, but I maintained eye contact. That wasn’t enough though. Buzz roughly grabbed my jaw and shook my head.

  “Do you understand?”

  I nodded, lifting and lowering my head slowly.

  “Good girl,” Buzz said.

  He stepped back and panned the camera up and down my body, sure to capture every inch. I pulled my limbs in as far as I could to cover myself, though I knew it did very little to hide me. When he was done, he pointed the camera back at his own face.

  “I took your clubhouse, Trigger. And now I’ve taken your girl. I promise to take really really good care of her. You know, in thanks for all you’ve done for me.”

  He pressed a button, furiously typed out a message, and then dropped the phone on the ground.

  “We’ll see what your boyfriend thinks of that message.”

  “He isn’t my boyfriend,” I tried to say around the gag, but the words came out garbled and unintelligible.

  Buzz didn’t seem to care at all what I’d said. He simply turned back to me, a smile spreading across his face.

  “We are going to have a lot of fun together tonight.”

  My heart pounded against my chest, seemingly in time with his heavy footsteps on the concrete. It felt as if the whole building would collapse from the vibration, and I honestly wished it would.

  As Buzz moved closer to me, licking his lips, his eyes appraising every inch of me, I forgot all about survival and prayed to die.

  Chapter Twelve

  Trigger

  I couldn’t think of anywhere else to look for Kenna and Buzz. I’d called ever
yone I could think of outside of the Broken Mavericks – they had enough going on. Dean called while I was searching for Kenna to tell me Buzz’s guys had left. Most of the deaths had been on their side. Buzz had brought in a group of young, inexperienced kids to do his dirty work, and the Mavericks had taken them out easily. However, a few of our newer members had been sent to the hospital.

  “Keep me updated as you know anything,” I said.

  “Are you not coming back to the clubhouse? People could really use the moral support of seeing your mug around the hallways,” Dean said. He’d said it half-joking, but I heard the seriousness behind it all. Dean wanted me to come back.

  “Buzz has Kenna.”

  “Shit.” Dean paused and then continued, “I’ll let you know if anything around here changes. Good luck, man.”