by Vivian Gray
Trigger waited a few seconds before moving over to me, and when he bent down to touch me, I flinched. I’d been wanting to talk to him, to see him for days, but now that he was here, I just wanted to be alone.
“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling the gag out of my mouth and throwing it towards Buzz as though he were dropping it into a trash heap.
I did my best not to look at Buzz’s lifeless form just behind Trigger’s shoulder, but it was difficult. Even when I wasn’t looking directly at him, my peripheral vision picked him up in stunning detail. The vibrant red blooming around his head, like a rose opening. The paleness of his face like the moon, full and high in the sky beyond the windows. I turned my head to the right and took deep breaths, though they came out haggard and choked.
“I’m going to get you out of here, Kenna.”
Trigger pulled a pocketknife out of his pants and sliced easily through the thick rope around my hands and ankles. As soon as my arms were free, I wrapped them around my bare chest. I could tell Trigger was trying not to look at me, and I was grateful for that, at least.
He slipped out of his jacket and laid it gently over my upper body, but still, I found myself pulling away from him, nervous of the hands I’d just watched end Buzz’s life. He stood up and walked to the pile of my clothes in the middle of the floor. I was glad for the distance, to be alone, but I also couldn’t stop taking deep inhales of the tobacco, woodsy scent that surrounded his jacket. It was comforting, and I wanted to drown in it.
“Here you go,” Trigger said, holding my shirt out.
His hands were inside the fabric, holding open the collar like you would if you were going to dress a child. Part of me wanted to let him dress me because my body felt paralyzed. I was exhausted and just wanted to go to sleep. But another part of me couldn’t stand to have him touch me. Not yet.
I thanked him quietly and grabbed the shirt from his hands, pulling it over my head and adjusting it around my waist. My bra had been ripped to shreds, so I still felt exposed in only the thin T-shirt, but it was far better than being naked.
Trigger held out a hand to help me stand up, but I pretended not to notice and lifted myself. I tugged my shorts on and buttoned them, thinking I would burn these clothes later. I couldn’t imagine ever wearing them again.
“Kenna, please.”
I turned at the sound of Trigger’s strangled voice. His eyes were red-rimmed, his skin paler than I’d ever seen it.
“You haven’t said a word since I got here. Please, are you okay? At least answer that,” he continued. He reached out for my hand, and I ran it nervously through my tangled hair.
“I’m okay,” I lied.
The truth was: I didn’t know what I was. I didn’t know how to feel. I was so grateful to Trigger for saving me, but the horrors I’d seen would be imprinted on my mind forever. I’d had it in my head that Trigger was a good guy, and I guess he still was. But he was now a good guy who had shot a man in the head, which was a lot to process.
I could tell my soft-spoken words did little to comfort Trigger, but he sighed and nodded, anyway. “Are you ready to go?”
At this, I nodded quickly, so hard it felt like my brain was rattling around in my head. “Yes. Yes, please.”
I didn’t know what Trigger planned to do with Buzz’s body – because, surely, he would come back later to clean it up or send someone to dispose of it – but he didn’t worry about it right then. Instead, he followed me as I walked across the empty warehouse. My footsteps echoed around the room, rising up to the ceiling and then coming back to me, sounding ghostlike and far away. The whole thing made me feel dizzy.
Before I could even react, I was in Trigger’s arms, and the room had tilted sideways.
“Kenna?” Trigger asked, running his hand along my cheek, his eyes wide. “Can you walk?”
I’d fallen over, and as much as I wanted to, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand up again. My legs felt unsteady. “I’m not sure.”
Trigger nodded, tucked his arm behind my knees, and lifted me into his arms. Just a few minutes before, I’d been itching to get away from him, eager for some space, but now I gave in to his warmth. I rested my head back against his shoulder and closed my eyes.
I must have immediately fallen asleep because Trigger had to shake me gently once we were outside.
“Kenna, you have to wake up.”
I opened my eyes and looked into his face. His dark hair was a mess of thick black tufts, a choppy sea of waves and tangles. He clenched his jaw, giving his face an even more square appearance.
“I only have the bike. Will you be able to hang on to me?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. I can do it.”
He set me down on my feet, and immediately my head spun. Only this time, my stomach spun, as well. The nausea I’d swallowed down before was coming back with a vengeance. I dropped to the cement, and Trigger tried to wrap his arms around me, but I pushed him away and heaved.
I hadn’t eaten much all day, so it was mostly a show of shoulders shaking and gagging, but Trigger still grabbed my hair and held it away from my mouth, his hand making circles on my back. I had no idea whether this nausea was from morning sickness or a possible concussion or the trauma of the day.
“I’m sorry,” I said, embarrassed that he was seeing me like this.
“We just need to get you someplace where you can rest,” Trigger said, squeezing my shoulders. “You have been through more than most people can imagine today. You don’t need to apologize for anything.”
After a few minutes, my stomach felt settled enough to climb on the bike behind Trigger. He helped me into a helmet and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist. Even as we rode away, he kept one hand on both of mine as often as he could, trying to make sure my hold was tight and I wouldn’t slip.
Chapter Thirteen
Kenna
When Trigger pulled his bike into the parking lot of the Broken Mavericks’ clubhouse, I stiffened.
“Dean told me the fight is over. I just have to settle a few things before we go to your house,” he said, turning off the engine and opening the kickstand. “Is that okay? You can stay outside if you need to?”
I weighed the options in my mind and decided going inside with him would be infinitely better than sitting outside by myself. As soon as we walked through the front doors, Trigger grabbed my hand and pulled me to the right, away from the main room where the gunfight had first started.
He led me down a short hallway with four doors and walked into the first one on the right. As soon as I walked into the room, I was enveloped in his scent. It was warm and rugged with a hint of spice.
“Is this your office?” I asked.
He nodded and directed me to a large leather chair in the corner. “If you stay here, I’ll be right back. I just have to take care of a few things.”
Trigger rubbed my shoulder and then disappeared through the door. I looked around his small, tidy office. There was a wooden desk with metal legs in the center, on top of which sat a metal desk lamp, a cup of pens and pencils, and a worn leather journal. If I hadn’t been so exhausted, I might have been tempted to peek inside his journal, get a feel for Trigger’s private thoughts. But as it was, I laid my head back and closed my tired eyes.
It seemed like only a second later when Trigger was tapping me on the shoulder. My eyes didn’t want to open, but I forced them, peeling my eyelids up. Trigger was staring at me, his face hard, eyes dark hunks of coal.
“Is everything okay?” I asked groggily.
He gave me a terse nod. “The place will need a lot of repairs, and we lost a few members, but most of the deaths were on the other side. They are disposing of bodies now. It was lucky more people didn’t die.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. No matter how I looked at the situation, it seemed heartbreaking. People died in this building because Trigger cut ties with Buzz, which he’d done because of me and my mom. In a way, everything was my fault.
Trigger was just standing in front of me, but then suddenly he was standing in front of his desk, one fist pounding into the table top.
“What in the hell were you even doing here, Kenna?”
The change was so sudden that I couldn’t come up with a response. My mouth opened and closed around words I didn’t know how to say.
“I told you it wasn’t safe for you to visit me here, yet you came anyway. And how did you even find out the address?” He turned to me, forehead wrinkled, eyes wild.
“My mom knew it,” I said in a near whisper.
He let out a humorless chuckle. “Of course she did. It seems like that woman’s aim in life is to put you in life-threatening situations. You never should have been here, Kenna.”
“I needed to talk to you.”
I noticed Trigger flinch, and I knew it was because of the one thing we still hadn’t talked about. I was pregnant. He’d mentioned it to Buzz just before he shot him, so I knew he had listened to my message, but we hadn’t discussed it since.
He shook his head. “I was going to call you back. You didn’t need to come here.”
“I didn’t know that!” It took all of my remaining energy to raise my voice, but I couldn’t sit there and listen to him reprimand me for another second.
Now, officially physically and emotionally spent, the tears that had been pressing against the back of my eyes all night released and ran down my cheeks. I leaned forward, face in my hands, and let them come. I didn’t hear Trigger kneel in front of me, but suddenly his hands were on my neck, lifting my face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He pressed his forehead against mine and cupped my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Kenna.”
I looked into his eyes, and rather than the rage I’d seen back at the warehouse and the annoyance I’d seen when he had walked into his office, I saw concern and fear. Just like me, Trigger was terrified.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he admitted, shaking his head and closing his eyes against the memory. “I saw Buzz hit you and take off and I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. I was so angry at Buzz and terrified for you and the baby. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
I reached up and ran my hand through his thick hair, tugging at the thick strands. “It has been an extraordinarily long day.”
His pink lips parted in a smile. “That’s an understatement.”
I leaned forward and kissed him softly. As soon as our lips met, I closed my eyes and leaned into him, grateful for his presence and reassurance. When we pulled apart, I wrapped an arm around his neck and let him pull me to my feet.
“Do you want to go home?” he asked.
I nodded. “More than anything.”
***
Trigger
Dean was taking care of everything at the clubhouse, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to thank him enough. Even though I hadn’t yet told him about the baby or our relationship, he knew me well enough to understand that I needed to be with Kenna.
“Just go,” he said, waving me away as I hesitated in the doorway, Kenna clutched against my side. “We have everything under control. It’s fine. Just clean up.”
Dean was right. There wasn’t much for me to do at the clubhouse anyway, but I was still feeling the remnants of guilt brought on by my absence during the gunfight. The gang Buzz had collected was grossly unprepared for the fight they’d started. Either they had overestimated their own abilities or underestimated how many Broken Mavericks would be in the clubhouse at the time. The only main chore left was to remove their bodies.
“I can stay if you really need me to,” I said, though I had no intention of actually staying. He could have begged me to stay, and I still would have gone.
Dean tilted his head to the side, his eyes crazy. “If you don’t leave, I’ll usurp you and become the new leader.”
Despite everything that had happened that day, I laughed. “You wish.”
Dean flipped me off, smiled, and then disappeared into the greater room.
“I can get home myself if you need to stay,” Kenna said. “My car is still here.”
“You are in no shape to drive yourself home. Besides, you heard Dean. If I don’t leave, I’ll lose my position.”
Kenna smiled and then leaned against me. I wrapped my arm around her waist as we walked across the parking lot.
She fell asleep during the car ride from the clubhouse to her house. She was absolutely exhausted, and I almost hated having to wake her up to carry her inside.
“Are you going to stay?” she asked, her head nuzzled into my neck as I pushed open her front door and stepped into the cool dimness of her house. Her mom was still asleep on the couch, in the same position she’d been in when I’d stopped by earlier in the night. She didn’t budge as I carried Kenna through the living room and into her bedroom.
“I planned on it,” I said. “Though, I can go if you want me to.”
She shook her head against my neck, her soft hair brushing across my face. “No, stay, please.”
I tucked her into her bed, pulling the sheets up around her shoulders, and kissed her forehead. “Of course, Kenna. I’ll stay.”
She fell asleep almost instantly, her lips parted slightly, her deep, even breathing filling the quiet room. I wanted to sleep, as well, but it was elusive. I had too many thoughts rushing around my head. We still hadn’t talked about the pregnancy, though there had hardly been a spare minute for that all night, and I was anxious to know Kenna’s thoughts and to tell her my decision. I wanted her to know I wasn’t going anywhere.
I don’t know how long I laid in bed next to Kenna, but after a while, my restless legs and restless mind forced me up. A box of crackers sat on the nightstand next to her bed, and I wondered if they were there to combat her morning sickness. Another wave of guilt washed over me.
I should have been there with her. I should have answered when she called. I should have been the one to run out and buy her crackers and whatever weird foods she would crave. I knew I still had the entire pregnancy to do those things, but I hated that, even for a few days, she’d had to do it alone.
Under the box of crackers, I noticed a stack of bills. I didn’t want to snoop, but I couldn’t help myself. Kenna had enough to worry about, and the idea that she would lay in bed at night and fret over how to keep her house running while also growing a human inside of her was enough to push me to open the envelopes and start snooping.
There was a handwritten letter from the landlord reminding her that she was behind on rent. He mentioned the extension he’d given her in the past and seemed like he was willing to be flexible because of the trouble with her mom, but everyone had a breaking point. I couldn’t let Kenna get evicted while she was pregnant with my child, so I wrote down the landlord’s contact information and planned to pay off her debts for the next several months.
Then, there was a water bill and electricity bill that were both overdue with bright red warning notices on the front stating that they would be switched off in the next week without payment. The letter was postmarked five days before, so she only had two more days.
I slipped the envelopes under my arm and tiptoed out of the room, even though I was pretty sure Kenna was sleeping hard enough that she wouldn’t have woken up even if I’d jumped on the end of the bed. I checked to make sure her mom was still breathing on the couch, and then settled into a chair at the kitchen table and began making phone calls.
I’d assumed I would have to ask Kenna for all kinds of personal information in order to access her accounts and pay them off, but it was astounding how few questions people had when you were giving them money. The landlord sounded relieved.
“Kenna is such a good girl, and I hate to pressure her, but I have bills to pay, too,” the man said.
I decided to pay rent for the next six months, which nearly send the landlord into a fit. Then, I called and took care of the water and electricity. I couldn’t pay in advance for those, but I hooked them up to my account and se
t up a direct payment every month for the next year.
That way, Kenna would only have to worry about groceries and baby items. No more working three jobs to keep the lights on. Now, she could relax and focus on taking care of herself and our baby.
Our baby.
Since finding out about Kenna’s pregnancy, life had flipped upside down. I’d gone from being the cold bachelor I’d always been to not only being with someone but committing to them. Because that was what I’d been doing for the last hour. Connecting my bank account with Kenna’s bills for the next year was a commitment. A promise that I’d be around at least that long. Long enough to see her safely through the pregnancy, to see our child being born, to experience the first tiring weeks of parenthood.