by J. L. Drake
“No one will ever love you, Tessa.” My mother found me again. “How can you love a thorn in the side?”
My hand slammed the wall, and I saw something move by the sink. I repeated the action and saw part of the wall move again. There was a door there I hadn’t noticed before. It must not have been shut properly. I suspected Trigger wouldn’t like me to pry.
I pulled the door open and found where the real weapons were—car cables, a club with nails, ropes, small benches, pulleys, a crossbow, a double-bladed axe, and various swords. A computer sat on a metal table, and I tapped the keyboard. The light flickered on, and I studied the screen.
Rows and rows of files filled the background, all named for the slaughter room’s “guests.” I tapped one and realized they were videos. I tapped Clark’s name. I was tempted to watch it, but now wasn’t the time. I would save that for the one-year anniversary of his death, a personal treat.
I pressed another key, and when a live video popped up, I realized it was the slaughter room. I clicked on the little picture of the feed of the front bar. Trigger was home.
I brought my face closer to the screen as I caught the mood in the room, and I watched, fascinated. Trigger’s arms were tense, and anger flowed from him. He pulled himself up to his full height, then his ear went down to his shoulder on one side then the other. His hands were fisted at his side.
“Trigger,” Morgan had his back to the camera when he spoke, “Joe wanted you to—”
Crash!
The back of the bar, freshly re-stocked, blew up like a grenade. Trigger had thrown one of the bar tables straight into it.
“Holy shit.” Morgan covered his head as he jumped out of the way. I jumped myself as the noise sent shock waves through the room.
Big Joe had stepped into view, and I felt my body drain of blood.
Trigger grabbed a whiskey bottle, flipped it around, caught it by its neck, and chucked it straight at Joe’s head.
“Shit!” I yelped with my hands over my mouth.
Joe went down hard and hit the floor, knocking over a chair. Trigger threw another chair out of the way and grabbed of one of Joe’s arms and started to drag him out of the room.
I stood frozen and wondered what would happen next, torn as to whether I wanted to run to see it in person or stay with the screen. I watched Morgan for some kind of guidance. He called out to someone, and moments later, Brick and Rail came running in.
“What the fuck happened?” Rail had his hands over his head. “Whose blood is that?”
“Where is he?” Brick’s tone was completely different, almost eerie.
Oh, no.
I fumbled with the keys to switch the camera feed back to the slaughter room. I realized Trigger was headed to this room with Joe, and my mind imagined the blood trail behind him.
Fuck.
I wasn’t ready to show myself in case I was sent away. I searched the small room for somewhere to hide, but there really wasn’t much choice. I tucked myself behind a heavy jacket that hung on the wall and waited.
The door flung open, and the room echoed with angry jeers. I peeked out from behind the jacket to the screen and saw Brick, Rail, Morgan, Cooper, Cray, Bruce, Ryder, Tristen, and a few others I didn’t know. They stood along the perimeter as Trigger ordered Ryder to tie Joe’s torso to the wall and his arms and legs to the chair.
He waved something under his nose, and Joe woke slowly with a groan.
“Whoop!” one of Tristen’s crew yelled, and he hit the fight bell next to the door.
Ring!
Trigger turned. Every muscle in his body stood out as he twisted, and then I caught sight of his face and saw the demons glaring from his pupils.
Oh, shit.
“Morgan,” Trigger grunted as he peeled his t-shirt over his head, “rope.”
Damn. The screen had gone black. I was not missing this. I stepped out and tapped the computer to wake it up and waited to see what they would do to a mole. A traitor. I couldn’t even think his name. The anger and betrayal were too raw.
A thrill went through me. A part of me was twisted with excitement to watch this without them knowing I was there. Trigger seemed so different, so magnificent.
Morgan put a rope and a bucket with some liquid in it at Trigger’s feet and stepped back.
Trigger cracked his knuckles then his neck before he ran both hands through his hair and tied it back. Some escaped the tie and fell over his face, but he ignored it. He walked up to Joe’s chair and kicked it to bring him to attention. I studied the mole. His cut was gone, and his shoes had been removed.
“Look at me,” he grunted again, and this time Joe’s eyes flickered open, and his face twisted in terror.
“Shit.” He squinted and groaned as blood ran down his face from the gash on his head. “I wondered when this day would come.”
I tapped the key to turn it up. Trigger’s back was to me, and I didn’t want to miss a thing.
“How long did you know?” he asked.
“No,” Trigger shook his head, “you don’t get to ask the questions.” He stepped back and tossed the rope in the bucket. Morgan handed him latex gloves while the rest watched like it was a live fight.
Joe sniffed at something, and his eyes went wide. That seemed to wake him up.
“Jesus Christ!”
“Will not save you now,” Brick muttered without missing a beat.
After the rope soaked for a minute, Trigger held one end and ran his other hand down the fibers to drain off the excess liquid. He then tied a rag that was dipped in the same liquid around Joe’s head to cover his eyes.
He stepped back and held out his hand. Brick handed him a paddle with nails through the end. Trigger didn’t hesitate and swung the wicked-looking beast into Joe’s kneecap. His scream was so loud, it made the speakers on the laptop crackle.
“Holy shit!” He spat and foamed at the mouth. His neck veins popped, and his teeth bit down. “Mother of shit! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“Fuck that. It’s too late. I want to know what happened that day,” Trigger shouted over his suffering.
“Fuck you, Trigger!”
Whack!
The other knee was driven in by the ruthless nails. His body jolted forward with a heave as he screamed and sobbed.
“You, of all people, should know I don’t like to repeat myself.” He took a third swing to the thigh.
“Ahh!” Joe shook his head as if the pain was too much. “I had to go back, to get Allen’s fuckin’ wallet. The assholes just dumped him and didn’t strip him down. Fuck, Trigger, I was loyal to Allen before you even took over.”
“Loyal! That’s rich.” Morgan took a sip of a drink.
“Fuck you, Morgan. What do you know about it?” He panted. “He said you were never fit to run the club,” he blurted between sobs. “Said you would have run the DR into the ground if you took over. He promised to make me VP.”
Trigger popped his neck and snapped his fingers at Brick, who handed him something.
What the hell?
“If you had let that fucker die, Gus would still be here. You lied to me.” The bright yellow flame from the lighter grazed his cheek before…
Holy shit!
The rag must have been dipped in gasoline, because it shot fire straight across the cloth, and the sound that came out of Joe was indescribable. The image of his eyeballs burning while he was still alive would haunt my dreams.
They watched until he begged for it to stop. The smell of burned flesh made it under the door of my hiding place, and I almost lost my stomach contents.
Trigger hooked the still-burning rag away from Joe’s eyes and tossed it on the floor.
Joe’s head flipped from side to side as the flesh around his eyes continued to burn. Saliva dripped from his lips as he fought to breathe.
Trigger paced the room like a caged lion, and I lost sight of him. Shit. I leapt behind the jacket and froze as he suddenly pulled the door open. He seemed not to see me as
his eyes roamed over the wall. He selected a weapon and left as quickly as he had entered.
I took a deep breath and turned my attention back to the screen.
Brick tossed a bucket of ice water over Joe’s head to jolt him back. “Shit! Trigger, let me live,” he begged. “I promise I’ll tell you where he is. I’ll help you get him.” He fought to breathe, his muscles twitched, and his head rolled in agony. I was sure the mixture of different pain was quite a trip for him. I felt no sympathy as I watched.
Brick looked over at Trigger for a moment then stepped up to Joe.
“You lived with us like family. You betrayed us…your family.”
Joe jerked, and his burned eye sockets stared toward Brick. “All the years I worked for the club, you never saw me. All I ever was to you was a doorman.” Saliva dripped from his white lips. “I just wanted to be somebody.”
Trigger’s laugh sent a chill across my skin as he stepped up to the mole again. “He saw what I always saw, your fucking weakness.”
Joe made a noise then spat in Trigger’s face. A movement in the top left screen drew my eye. Trigger’s mother stood in the hallway listening to what was happening.
The entire slaughter room went silent and drew back my focus.
The mole’s face went red. He knew he was done. “Now every single one of the people you care about will be taken from you,” he screamed. “You think she’s safe.” He grinned darkly through the pain. “How wrong you are. As long as Allen is alive, that girl will be hunted like the wild animal she is. Then those kids and everyone in this room will die. Then he’ll kill you.”
No one saw me approach. The weapon in my hand seemed to have a life of its own as I swung it toward him with all my strength. The blade caught him across the upper arm, and blood sprayed as it fell to the floor. Trigger spun around, and his wild eyes turned to mine as Brick grabbed the weapon from my hand.
“Enough!” Trigger shouted as he seized the weapon from Brick, swivelled, and drove the battle-axe straight down the middle of the mole’s head.
My chest heaved at the strength it must have taken to slice a skull nearly in two.
Blood poured down his lips, into his open mouth, and around his neck.
It was fucking sick.
Trigger grabbed the bucket and poured it over the mole. Then with a flick of his hand, flames jumped, and the mole burned.
“Feed,” he ordered as his eyes stayed on mine.
Where the fuck was Trigger? Because that man wasn’t him.
***
Allen
I sank into the dingy comforter in room 605 of the Holiday Inn in Santa Monica. Normally, I’d find some church to camp out in, but I needed to focus after the shit hit the fan with Gus. I grinned up at the stained ceiling. The feel of the knife slicing through his flesh was riveting. Like a rare steak from Ruth’s Chris, a slight touch of the blade, and you slid right down to the bone.
“Come on!” Zay hissed at his phone. “Where the fuck are you?”
“Your negative aura is ruining my moment.”
“What are the chances Joe flipped on us?”
That brought me up to a sitting position. “Why would you ask that?”
“You killed Gus, and now Joe isn’t answering his fuckin’ phone.”
“’Cause you’re the one calling.”
“No,” he held up my phone, “I’m not.”
Shit.
I scrambled off the bed, snatched my phone, and tried it again. We had rules, and that was number one. Always answer my calls. Joe always picked up.
I licked my dry lips and pressed my forehead to the murky window.
“On to the next plan.”
I watched Zay’s reflection in the window. I knew he didn’t like this plan, but I didn’t give a rat’s ass what he thought. He just better watch himself. He was on thin ice with me as it was. If I didn’t need him, I would have gutted him like Gus.
“Now!”
I waited for him to leave before I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head.
“Where is he?” I pumped my arms wildly as I hurried into my office. My fucking son was on the phone. The meeting had blown up in my face all because of my own goddamn son!
Without a thought, I pulled back my hand and slashed him across the back as deep as I could, not once, but twice.
He jolted upward, which dragged the blade deeper the second time. He whirled around with angry, dark eyes, and I saw his expression as he realized I was the one who had done it.
“What the fuck?” His voice boomed throughout the room.
Trigger was anything but a president. He had tried to ruin my deal with the Serpents, the one deal that would have allowed us to stay in Santa Monica and own our own turf. The piece of shit thought he knew best and that he was too good to sell drugs. He was about to ruin all my hard work. He needed to die.
“You aren’t worthy to run such an empire. You’re weak and worthless!”
The door opened, and I let my defenses down for half a second. I felt a knife rip into my stomach. I froze as the pain tore through me. My fingers tingled, and I knew this was it. I went down hard.
“Joe,” Trigger barked from somewhere far away, “get the prospects to deal with this shit.”
“Yes, boss. You need some help?” He nodded to the blood that ran from my son’s back.
“No, just get him out of here.”
“Yeah, boss.”
The word boss made me want to vomit. My son was going to fucking pay for this. I tried to move, but the pain was awful, and I decided otherwise. My lungs started to hurt, and my breathing became shallow. Oh, shit, everything hurt.
Brent, the prospect, grabbed my arm and hauled me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I tried to mask my groan, but it was hard.
Blood dripped down my face, and my vision blurred as I was tossed into the back of a pickup. Next thing I remembered, I saw clouds racing by above me, and the wind had dried the blood on my cheeks. Blinding pain shot down my legs, but I was thankful I could wiggle my toes.
I wasn’t sure how long we drove, but at one point, the truck stopped, and I found Brent above me. He kicked my shoulder, and my head flopped in his direction.
“Looks fucking dead to me.” He bent down and checked my pulse. He sucked at it, because I knew I still had a fucking heartbeat. “He smells like shit.”
Fuck you!
“Grab his shoulders,” someone said.
I flopped on the ground, and it took everything not to yell out. My pants dragged down to my hips as they pulled me across the forest floor and rolled me under some bushes.
“Do we bury him?”
“The ground’s hard. It would take hours.” Brent sighed.
“We can just say we did. It’s not like he’s coming out here any time soon.”
Some branches were thrown on top of me, but I could still see their feet moving about in front of me.
“That’s good enough.” Brent tossed the rest of the brush next to me and pulled out his phone. “Let’s get out of here. This place is fucking creepy.”
I knew I was done. What a way to go. Fuck, layin’ here under a bush with my guts cut open, waiting for the animals to get a whiff of me. Hate filled me, but it couldn’t sustain me. I knew I was about to pass out.
I must have been out for a bit because it was almost dark when I came to. I felt my pants being tugged at. I panicked. I knew it was the animals here to feast on me, and I screamed inside my head when my body refused to move.
“Come on,” a voice said as a pair of boots appeared in front of my face. He rolled me onto my back, dug into my pocket, and pulled my wallet free.
“Stupid assholes, can’t do anything fuckin’ right.”
I reached deep down for the strength to grab his wrist and managed a feeble hand flop.
“You,” I huffed when I saw who it was.
“Oh, shit!” He hopped back in disbelief. “You’re still alive?” He pulled his gun and pointed it at my head.
I could tell he was confused as to what he should do. I took that valuable moment and used it to my advantage.
“Wait,” I wheezed so he’d lean down and I wouldn’t have to speak as loudly. “You help me, and I promise to make you vice president of the club as soon that contract is done. I’ll give you all the money you could ever want.”
“Allen,” he rubbed his head with his free hand, “I don’t know—”
“My son will run my club into the ground if he tries to break that contract. Where will you be then, Joe? You need the club as much as I do.”
He mulled over my words. His jaw twitched, and the corners of his mouth lifted upward.
“You want to be a doorman forever?” I could see that got through. I coughed. Shit, everything hurt.
He stood and started to pace, but the fact that he didn’t kill me right away was a good sign. Joe was stupid, and I was sure he didn’t get the respect he felt he deserved, so I knew he’d be an easy target. I just had to say the right things.
“I don’t know, Allen. Trigger knows a lot of people, and if this ever got out, I’d be killed on the spot.”
I closed my eyes. Maybe I was wrong to think I could flip him.
After what seemed like an eternity, he reached down and grabbed me by the armpits and dragged me over to the truck. He tossed me in, and I hit the bed of the truck hard.
Fuck me, he was going to return me to the club!
The engine started, and I thought of the many different ways I could roll my body off the truck and into the bushes. Anything would be better than being returned to the hands of my son.
The night sky raced by, and the stars started to blur together. What was in store for me next?
When the truck came to a stop and I heard the water hit the dock, I knew where we were.
I smiled through the pain with the realization.
He had turned.
Chapter Fifteen
Trigger
Nolan appeared through the heavy fog. He stayed far enough away so as not to draw the attention of the wild things, but I felt his presence. He always fought his way to the surface whenever she was around.