TRIGGER: A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel (21 page)

We had slowed to a stop right before the wreckage. The
men working on clearing the road and the surrounding desert land looked at us
with mingled curiosity and apprehension; just as we pulled to the side of the road,
being unwilling to risk Jennie’s tires on a stray piece of metal, a man trotted
over to us. Bearded and tall, he was older than Trigger but handsome all the
same. Jennie opened the window as he approached.

“Um…what happened…here?” she asked cautiously. As the
man got closer, I recognized him as one of the faces in the crowd at the fight.
He’d been at Trigger’s side when he entered. My heart leapt; we were in the
right place, after all. I leaned across Jennie, terrified to ask what had
happened to him. I knew there was a damn good chance the answer would kill me.

“Who’s
askin
’?” the man
responded gruffly, leaning down to examine us through the window. When he saw
me, his eyes widened slightly then narrowed once more. “Do I know you?”

“I’m…I’m…what…where’s Trigger?” The words came out
thick and wet, a sob already prepared in the back of my throat. I hoped against
hope…

“Oh. It’s you,” the man said, his attention drawing
back to the men lugging metal off the road. “You’re the one that
….well
, shit. Okay, come on, ladies.” He started to move
away, back in the direction of the bar.

Jennie and I shared a glance.
He didn’t say…he didn’t say he was okay…he didn’t…he’s not, oh God,
he’s not okay…

As though she could read my mine, Jennie grabbed my
hand in hers, squeezing tight. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

“Wait,” I called after him, and the man paused to turn
to me, looking impatient. “Is he dead? Tell me now, please, I have to know…”

The man shook his head, a small smile playing on the
very corners of his lips. So small I thought I’d imagined it.

“
Ain’t
dead,” he said. “But
come on now, if you’re so damn worried…”

The tears came anyway, the sob escaping like a caged
bird.
He’s alive,
I thought with a
relief that I’d never experienced before in all my life.
He’s alive…

We followed the man into the bar, where he promptly
rounded the corner and poured a glass of amber liquid. In the corner, a woman
was yelling at someone on a cell phone.

“I didn’t
ask
how
much it was
gonna
cost, did I, Jimmy? Do you think we
give a
shit
what it costs? I
asked
how soon you could get your sorry
ass out here with that dump truck of yours and get this shit out of sight. And
if you tell me tomorrow, you might as well consider yourself off our payroll,”
she said, and from the sound of her voice, I felt bad for Jimmy, whoever he
was.

“Your man is a fuckin’ idiot,” the man said, drawing
my attention back to him. He took a sip of his beer, then set it down. “But
he’s alive.
Gonna
pull through just fine. He
ain’t
awake, though.
Dunno
how
long he’ll be out. Doctor says could be days…could be weeks…no way to say…”

“He’s in a coma?” I asked, my relief ebbing slightly.
Sure, alive was better than dead, but a coma wasn’t exactly ideal for the man I
loved.

“He
ain’t
that good a
doctor,” the man said guardedly. He studied me closely, as though trying to
tell my character through my eyes. “I’m Reign. I’m in charge here. Your boy
fights for me.”

“Oh,” I said. “I’m…I’m Cass…”

“I guess he fights for you, too,” Reign said. His eyes
narrowed, then he sighed and shook his head. “I guess I can see why.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, tears prickling again. “I’m sorry
I caused all this…all this…”

“Don’t,” Reign said. “We all had a part to play. And
it’s done now. At least, it better be.”

There was a pause. I wanted to ask what had happened,
but I had a more important question in mind.

“Can I see him?”

Reign paused to take another sip.

“I reckon you better,” he said. “C’mon.”

Jennie and I followed him at a distance as he led us
around the back of the bar, past a row of motel rooms, to a small building that
looked a bit like a miniature version of the motel. Jennie held my hand the
whole time, squeezing tight. One door was slightly ajar. My breath caught in my
throat as Reign stepped inside, holding the door open for us. Jennie began to
walk in, but my grip on her hand held her back.

“I can’t,” I said, suddenly clutched by fear. “What
if…what if…”

“Boy’s been through a lot for you,” Reign said in a
no-nonsense tone. “You can see ‘
im
at his worst.”

The words gave me courage and I moved forward with a
deep breath. The door opened onto a small hallway: the kitchen was off to one
side, and Reign stepped through to the opposite room. When I followed, I saw
only one thing: Trigger, in bed, a bandage on his head. A man stood beside the
bed, presumably the doctor, but I paid him no attention. I only had eyes for
Trigger. Rushing to his side, I fell onto his body with a sob. I could feel his
chest rising and falling beneath me.

I almost
lost you,
I thought desperately, as though we could somehow communicate
telepathically.
You have to come back…

But unlike the movies, my embrace and tears did not
work as some magic bringing him back to waking life. I could barely listen to
the doctor as he gave me all his “can’t
tell”s
and “
maybe”s
. All I could do was watch his chest rise
and fall, rise and fall…

I told Jennie to leave that night, knowing that she
was impatient to get back to Mike. I promised to call with updates, and let her
know if I needed her again. The doctor would come to check on him every few
hours. Reign drifted in and out, as well as a number of men whose names and
faces were immediately forgotten to me. But I stayed at his side the whole
time…

And now he was gone again.

The early morning air was brisk, the sun still low on
the horizon. I trotted towards the bar – then jogged, out of equal parts chill
and desire to find him.
If he’s in there,
I’m going to absolutely skewer the bastard…

The door was locked. I nearly collapsed against it in
frustration.
Maybe he went to get
breakfast,
I tried to tell myself, but more and more I felt that couldn’t
be the truth. I walked towards one of the bar’s wide, dingy windows, cupping my
hands around my eyes to see better.

Nothing. No one in the bar. But as I turned, ready to
run all the way to town to find him, I heard the soft click of a lock turning.
When I looked back, the door was just opening, a woman’s face appearing in the
gap.

“Help you?” she said. I recognized her; she had been
on the phone when I’d first arrived, and she’d come to visit Trigger when he
was laid up in bed.
Where he should still
fucking be,
I thought.

“I’m looking for Trigger,” I said, moving closer,
hoping she would open the door and reveal him hiding in the shadows somewhere
that I wouldn’t have been able to see from the window.

“Oh, I’m sorry doll, he’s not here,” she said. Seeing
the disappointment in my eyes, she opened the door wider and made a gesture inviting
me inside.

“What’s that boy doing out of bed, anyway?” she asked
when I entered, my eyes still scanning the room even though she’d confirmed his
non-presence.

“I don’t know,” I said, shivering off the last of the
chill. “That’s why I’m looking for him.”

The door clicked shut again behind me. The woman,
red-haired and beautiful, breezed past me. A stack of receipts and a ledger sat
open on the bar.

“Men,” she said. “Wouldn’t be able to take a damn
splinter out of their toe without someone
holdin
’ the
tweezers.” She flashed me a smile. “Don’t worry too much, babe. Really, he
probably just went to get muffins or something. Though I never though Trigger
to be much of a breakfast in bed
kinda
guy. You must
have his heart something fierce.”

“I…I uh, well, I’m just worried he…he’s always
leaving, see,” I stuttered. I wanted to take comfort in the woman’s words, but
my mind was still reeling over the horrible scenarios that it was imagining.
Maybe Trigger
did
go to get
breakfast, and had passed out and was lying in a gutter freezing to death…

“Well, was his bike still outside?” she asked. I
realized I’d been too frantic to check and shrugged.

“Trigger won’t go anywhere without that low-rider,”
she said confidently. “I’m Honey by the way. I
gotta
say, my boys sure do know how to pick ‘
em
.”

She was looking me over in a way that reminded me,
vaguely, of how I had looked at Mike: protective, judging, ready to find what
was wrong. Only she seemed a bit more open to what might be right.

“So you, uh…you live here, or…?”

“Yup,” Honey said with a nod, settling herself back in
over the paperwork. “House mom. Sort of. Except I drink and swear and sleep
around. Not very motherly, I guess.”

“Well, listen, uh, I was just looking for him, so if
you see him…”

“I’ll tell him you came by. Looking like a kid who
just lost his
blankie
, by the way. You plan on
sticking around?”

The question struck me. I hadn’t given it too much
thought, really; my only plan had been to get back to Trigger, make sure he was
okay. I wanted…I wanted…

The more I tried to define what it was that I wanted,
the less I could say for sure what that was. I couldn’t go back to Brock. I
couldn’t go back to Colorado. I wanted…Trigger. That was all. I wondered if
that made me feel pathetic, like some princess in a tower who’s only care or
interest was her Prince Charming.

“If you do,” Honey said, apparently picking up on the
fact that her answer wasn’t coming around anytime soon. “You’ll like it here.
If Trigger likes you, we’ll like you. And if you like Trigger, I reckon you’ll
like us. We’re small, but we’re tight.”

She gave me another look, this one more piercing, as
though she were digging into my past by way of my eyes.

“And we take care of our own,” she added with a grim
nod, far more serious than the rest of what she’d said. I blushed and shuffled
slightly in my shoes; did I need protection? I didn’t want to think so. But
then again…I hadn’t made the best decisions for myself.

“Thanks,” I managed to say, backing towards the door,
put off by the intensity of her stare. Luckily, it was broken as she smiled at
me amiably.

“Try not to worry too much,” Honey said. “If Trigger
runs away, we’ll find him and bring him back. The dude put us through hell for
you, and we all want to see a happy ending after that shit.”

“Thanks again,” I said before opening the door and
facing the cold once more. I considered walking into town, but first decided to
check the room once more, in case he’d returned while I was out. I noticed, on
approaching his apartment, that his bike
was
in fact parked out front, but since I hadn’t paid attention to whether or
not it was there beforehand, it was little comfort to me. Opening the door, I
sniffed the air as though to smell his return. The apartment felt cold.

And then, immediately, warm.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Trigger,” I said, my voice a gasp, as though he’d
been gone for hours when really I’d only been looking for thirty minutes. All
at once, my fear subsided, replaced by a dull ache I’d come to consider love in
uncertainty. “Where did you go?”

“I’m sorry, Cass,” he said, holding his arms out to
me, seeing my anxiety clearly. I moved between his arms quickly, happy once
more to feel his body pressed against mine.

“You’re in no shape to be going anywhere,” I said,
nuzzling my nose into his hair and breathing in the sweet, musky scent of him,
mixed with the sterile scent of the bandage still wrapped around his temple.