TRIGGER: A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel (16 page)

For a moment, the red
blindness passed, and I saw his stunned face sliding downward slightly; behind
him, right in front of me, Cass stood with her hands over her mouth, horror in
her eyes. She was wearing a purple dress that ended just above her knees. And
everything, after I saw her, seemed bathed in purple.

His hands grabbed my legs as
he fell, trying to push me over, but his strength had yet to recover from the
shock of the blows I’d delivered, and I escaped his grip quickly, pressing my
boot against his chest to push him down further, dropping to my knees and
straddling him, my hands caked in our blood as I dealt blow after blow,
breaking his nose, boxing his ears, spitting curses downward as he struggled.

He had mass on me, but I had
strength, and the element of surprise, I suppose. He’d expected an easy fight,
for me to roll over right quick. In the buzz of the painkillers and my own
adrenaline, I felt nothing.

Nothing but righteous
vindication as his yellow teeth were washed away in a sea of blood dripping
from his nose.

And then I felt myself
overpowered at last – from behind. Strong arms were pulling at my biceps,
yanking me upwards, grabbing me away from the bloody mess of a man I’d left
behind. Chest heaving, adrenaline running, I looked around; before me, the
three men in suits were scowling, and behind them I watched as their crew of
bulky toughs advanced, guns out.

Cass was running for the
door. Reign was at my side, screaming curses in my ear. My own men were pulling
out their pieces. It was all happening in slow motion, time moving so slowly
that I could feel every trickle of sweat on my face like an eternal drip.

“I’m sorry,” I said,
finally, turning to Reign, his hands on my biceps still pulling me back, across
the ring. “I’m so sorry.”

His head swerved as the
first bullets volleyed across the basement, then turned back to me, releasing
me to grab his own pistol from his waistband. He was holding my vest, and he
shoved it into my arms.

“I’m so…”

“Run,” he said, the word low
and steady. We were at the ropes, and slid underneath them, backing away from
the advancing horde. More bullets ricocheted through the space, the echoes
deafening. A man’s horrid scream pierced the air. Somewhere to my right, blood
sprayed outwards. The gunshots were coming from both sides.

“I have to
stay,
I have to…”

But he’d swung me around
already, pushing me from behind, towards the door. I looked back once more,
momentum carrying me forward. With his gun in one hand, finger on the trigger,
he spared me one last look.

“Fuckin’ run, Trigger,” he
screamed, and then was lost in the fray, the mass of bodies falling and firing
and screaming and punching and kicking. As though the club had become a single
body, I felt myself pushed towards the door by man after man, a train ushering
me to safety.

“We’ll hold ‘
em
off, boy, they
gonna
want your
blood,” one last man said before I felt myself pushed out into the cold, cool
night, the steel door slamming shut behind me, the cacophony muffled. I grabbed
my hair in my hands and howled into the night, the pain of what I’d done
hitting all at once – I’d betrayed my family. Again. A-fucking-gain.

But then I saw her, in front
of me, her mouth open, tears streaming down her face. Reign’s words echoed in
my head. I couldn’t let myself think any longer – I had to go. I had to run.
I’d done it all for her – and I was going to take her with me, wherever I went,
one last time, just for one last time…

Cass

His red hair was matted with
sweat, some loose strands having come loose from his bun. He wasn’t wearing his
shirt, but he was wearing his vest, his chest glistening with sweat. The rose
that bloomed between the two skulls on his
pecs
seemed to undulate with his breathing. I’d known…I’d known…I should have
stopped him…and now…oh, God, what was going to happen now…

When he rushed me, grabbing
my wrist and pulling me along behind, I was too shocked to do anything but
follow.

“Trigger, what have you
done? Oh God, they’re going to kill….”

“Come with me, Cass,” he
said, pulling me around the side of the building, where a row of motorcycles
sat leaning to their sides. I stumbled behind him.

“I can’t…I have to…you
didn’t…oh, baby,” I said, the word escaping my mouth before I could stop it.
“They’re going to hurt you.”

“Not if they can’t catch
me,” he said, dragging me along to one of the bikes, a black low-rider. “Come
with me, Cass.”

He was grabbing his helmet,
he was straddling the bike, he was holding my hand still. My knees quivered, fear
clenching my heart in a vise. He slammed the helmet onto his head, face guard
still up. His eyes were half pleading, half determined. It was cold. I thought
of Brock, lying on the ground, bleeding out…the sounds of the firefight inside.
Suddenly, the violent slamming of the metal basement door shook the air.

“Fuck ‘
im
up, boys, motherfucker’s
gonna
pay,” a voice
screeched into the night.

“I never stopped loving you,
Cass,” Trigger said, pulling me closer, though my body instinctively resisted.
I could barely see through the tears yet…yet…I could see him so clearly…

“I…I…”

“There’s no fucking time,
Cass! Get on the fucking bike!” he roared, running footsteps nearing the
corner.

I swung my leg around. I
clutched him hard. The bike roared to life. And then we were gone in a flush of
dust, a scream of motor. Figures I could only just make out behind us when I
looked over my shoulder were soon accented by the sound of shots fired, the
bright blaring flash of gunpowder. I could feel his heartbeat through his back,
could smell the hot masculine scent of his sweat as I buried my nose into his
shoulder, praying that we didn’t crash and I wouldn’t have to see him bloodied
and torn on the side of the road…

But where were we even
going? Behind us, headlights flashed; they’d taken chase, of course they had,
they weren’t just going to give up. I knew, better than Trigger even, how nasty
those guys were to anyone who crossed them. My stomach churned as Trigger made
a quick left down an unnamed street, the rural suburbs of Reno unwinding around
us as he turned again, and again, going nowhere, just trying to stay far enough
ahead to keep the car behind us at bay.

The wind battered against my
ears, my hair streaming out behind me, the air cold on my limbs. Finally, I
heard the telltale rush and hum of traffic, and Trigger peeled onto a highway –
I-80. That desert road I’d come to know so well in my years of travelling with
Brock. Suddenly, I realized where we should go – the only place we
could
go, or at least the only place I
could think we’d be safe.

I didn’t dare look behind me
to see if I could recognize any of the other cars on the highway; the benefit
of Trigger’s bike was, of course, that he could zip through the traffic and put
a good amount of confusion between us and our pursuers. I brought my lips to
his ear, speaking loud to be heard over the traffic and engine.

“Winnemucca,” I yelled, and
he turned his face towards me slightly. When he did so, the bike shifted almost
imperceptibly to the left; it gave my heart a jolt. Trigger was totally screwed
if we wrecked.
At least he has a helmet,
I
thought, realizing my own lack of safety gear.

“What?” he yelled back at
me, looking forward once more and dodging in and out of the cars.

“We have to go to
Winnemucca,” I yelled, closing my eyes tight as he nearly cut off a trucker who
responded with a series of ear-blasting honks.

“The fuck is in…” he roared,
the rest of his statement cut short by more honking as he crossed into the fast
lane in front of a sporty red BMW.

“Just go,” I said. This
wasn’t the time nor place to explain why Winnemucca was the only option. I felt
his neck move as he nodded, gunning the engine again to pass a Toyota with a
dented fender.

It was like that the whole
two hours to Winnemucca city limits – not that Winnemucca is much of a city,
mind you. But I felt my heart leap into my throat more times than I could
count, surer and surer with each passing second that we’d be blown over by a
big rig or crushed under the wheels of a Jeep. But Trigger was – unsurprisingly
– a deft rider, and when
finally
we made our way off
I-80, my heart finally returned to normal.

The little sign that welcomed
us to the city said: “Winnemucca: Proud of It.”
Proud of what,
I wondered, looking at the sparse lights that lay
before us. The bike sputtered and growled to a slow stop as Trigger pulled into
a
Kenjo
station.

A few google-eyed locals
stood about, eying staring at us. We must have looked one hell of a sight:
Trigger, shirtless except for his vest, with his helmet and me in my dress and
messy, road-blown hair. Trigger’s chest was streaked with dust from the highway
that had stuck to his sweat, and my cheeks were red from abuse by the wind. As
Trigger pulled his helmet off and shook out his hair, which had come loose from
its bun, he looked like some sort of road God. Especially when he sneered at
the men outside the station, grabbing my hand to help me off the bike.

“So, what in the hell did
you have me come here for?” he said, looking past me down the road we’d come
down, no doubt terrified that we’d see a car rolling through too slowly –
looking for us. But the road was dark, with no one else in sight.

“Uh,” I said, brushing my
hand through my tangled hair. “Jennie lives here.”

“Your sister?” Trigger
asked, moving slightly closer to me. I’d spent the past two hours on the back
of his bike, and my legs were sore, as were my arms from gripping him so tight.
But all the same, the sensation had been…overwhelming.

To feel his flesh beneath my
fingers, my thighs wrapped around his lower back, his smell and taste when I
breathed in close to his skin…now, as he stood close to me, I felt something
rising up inside me, and fought to tamp it down. This was all too bizarre, I
hadn’t even figured out
why
I’d just
jumped on the back of his bike in the first place. It had been a momentary
lapse of
judgement,
I was sure…

“Uh-huh,” I answered, trying
to look over his shoulder even as he took another step closer to me, drawing my
eyes to his.

“You’re still close, that’s
good,” he said, sounding almost as unsure as I felt. I was still waiting for my
heart to slow down enough to be considered normal. I bit my lip, digesting his
words.

“Well, maybe not quite
close, but…but she’ll take us in. She…she has to. But it’s…it’s complicated,” I
said, still struggling to keep my eyes away from his. I was afraid of what
would happen if I let my gaze linger too long. But while I was looking at the
ground, he moved even closer, and gingerly reached out to brush a strand of
hair out of my eyes. The graze of his flesh against mine was an electric shock.

“Never been anything simple
with you, has it?” he said, and though the words sounded harsh, his gentle
half-smile and the fondness of his voice made them soft and lovely. I almost
burst into tears right there. Without thinking, I grabbed his hand that still
lingered near my temple and brought it to my lips, kissing his palm. Finally, I
let my eyes remain steady on his.

“No, Trig, I guess not,” I
said. “But you’re not exactly a picture book, either.”

He chuckled softly, drew his
hand away to cup my chin. The chuckle died and a great sadness seemed to fill
his eyes.

“I’m a little fucked, I
think, Cass,” he said. “With my club…”

“I know,” I said. “I’m so
sorry. I should have said something, should have stopped it…”

“No, I wouldn’t have wanted
you to. Seeing the way that man thought of you…why were you with him, Cass? Why
couldn’t you find something good for yourself?”

His voice cracked as he
spoke. My heart was breaking all over again, looking at him. Tears brimmed
along the bottom of my eyes.

“You
were
my something good, stupid,” I managed to say, the words thick
and watery. “You were…you were my only good….”

Before I could finish, I
felt him pull me in by the chin, lifting my head as his leaned down, his lips
coming onto mine, all salt and sweat and sweetness. Like birds taking off all
at once from a tree in the morning, my heart lifted, all the years between us
melting away as the tip of his tongue met the tip of mine, gently stroking, our
lips parted only slightly.

“
Whooo
,”
someone called. “Give it to ‘
er
good, boy!”

Trigger broke away,
flourishing a middle finger to the men outside the station, who broke up in
laughter. I blushed hard, hiding my face behind my tangled hair.

“Let’s get on, then,”
Trigger said. “You know where your sister’s at?
Wanna
give her a call?”

“Uh,” I said. “I know her
address. It’s off the main street, Winnemucca Boulevard. It might be better if
we, uh…if we surprise her.”

Trigger’s eyebrows raised.

“That
kinda
complicated, huh?” he asked, grabbing my hand to lead me back to the bike.

When my arms were latched
around his again, my nose once more nestled into the crook of his shoulder, I
felt alright. But as we got closer and closer to where I knew my sister’s house
was (I’d Googled it multiple times, thinking how much I really ought to visit),
I was less and less sure we’d be welcomed at all, never mind with open arms.

We might end up staying the
night at a motel – not that either of us had any money. I didn’t think Trigger
had his wallet in those jeans he’d been fighting in, and all I had on me was a
maxed out credit card and my phone in the pocket of my dress.

My nervousness only grew
worse as we parked the bike and made our way up the steps. Her house was a nice
little two-story deal. Well-lit lawn, nice car in the driveway. She really
had
managed to do alright for
herself…if, of course, you could consider shacking up with a man twice your age
(not to mention your manager) doing “alright for yourself”. Not that I had much
of a place to judge from, of course. I couldn’t manage to ring the doorbell, so
after a few patient moments of waiting, Trigger took it upon himself.

“Hey,” he said, laying a
hand gently on my back. I looked up to him, all the confusion and pain of the
past years concentrated in this one moment. “You love each other, right?”

I opened my mouth to
respond, but right then the door swung open. Jennie’s first sight of me in five
years was being held by a shirtless, dirt-streaked biker, my hair tangled to
shit, looking up at him with tears nearly streaming down my face and my mouth
open.

“What the hell,” she said,
my face whipping around to hers. She looked…well, she looking
old.
She had also dyed her hair some
crazy shade of green which, while admittedly a
nice
shade of green, made me realize that even though she looked
old to me, she was still just a teenager, really. Her forehead crinkled over
her blue eyes, her small, delicate nose wrinkling as well in confusion. She was
my height, about 5’3. For some reason, though, she seemed taller. And though her
frame was as lean and sharp as it had ever been, in stark contrast to my own
plush figure, she seemed more womanly, too.

“Cass? What in the
ever-loving…”

Her sentence trailed off as
we stared at each other, years of resentment reaching its critical point in the
silence.

“Hey, sis,” I croaked out,
and with the words came a flood of tears. All the tears I’d been holding back.
And then Jennie’s arms folded around me, grabbing me in across the doorway, her
cheek wet against my neck.