RUNNING GAME (A SECOND CHANCE SPORTS ROMANCE) (100 page)

“What was that?” I asked.

“Grizz has a special assignment,” he replied coolly. “There is a rather difficult rival president I need on my side tomorrow night… an old fucker who gets shit done. The effort requires some
careful
diplomacy. In the meantime I’ll need my rest, and Grizz knows it. Tomorrow is going to be a hard day.”

“Half these men were drinking a couple of hours ago. Do you really trust them to head off into the desert alone at night?”

“I trust Grizz’s judgment,” he replied.

With that, he started walking towards the door, preparing himself to send some of his best bikers out into the dark to seek out allies.

“Wait, Hunter,” I called out to him.

“Yes?” He turned, his handsome frame twisting on a boot to gaze across at me.

“You never explained how you were planning on going across the border,” I answered. “We can’t go back to the farmhouse after tonight. You know there’s going to be police in the area…”

“We’ll be taking a slightly
different
way.”

“Then what’s your angle?”

Hunter’s familiar chuckle rang out.

“We’re not going
through
the border, Sarah… we’re going
under
it.”

T
he following morning
, the text from my Lieutenant read:

I won’t tolerate insubordination. Your vehicle’s GPS still puts you in fucking El Paso. When you decide to finally end your little vacation, I want your badge and your goddamn gun on my desk. You’d better not keep me fucking waiting.

“Well, at least he’s not mad,” I sarcastically quipped to nobody in particular.

I felt Hunter’s strong arms around me, and I nestled my head backwards into his neck. “Let me guess… your Lieutenant didn’t take the realization that you’re still in town very well.”

“Something like that,” I answered. I lifted the screen up and unlocked the phone with a swipe, allowing him to read the message.

“Oof,” he exhaled sympathetically. “Maybe he’ll sing a different tune after this is all over…”

“Fat chance,” I grumbled. “I worked so hard for this fucking promotion. Now, it’s all going down the goddamn drain…” I turned my head to regard his rugged face and soft gaze. “What the fuck am I going to do, Hunter?”

“I’ve got a good feeling about this,” Hunter murmured into my hair. “Hold out a little longer. I think we’re about to turn the tide of this thing.”

“You’ve got good feeling?” I asked, feeling aggravation begin to rise in my core. “Like you did last night?”

Hunter pulled away from me, running his fingers through his thick hair. “Don’t start with me on that. Last night was
necessary,
Sarah. We’ve got a way into their operations now. ”

Hesitantly, I reached out to him. My palm slid across his back, and he relaxed slightly beneath my touch.

“You’re right,” I told him. “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed out. I’m no closer to finding these girls… and we fucked up last night. We could have saved those abductees before they disappeared across the border… If I had something to show the Lieutenant…”

“We still have a chance,” he replied. “I have a plan.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but there was a knock from outside. Hunter stepped away and opened the door, revealing a tired but smiling Grizz.

“Our guests are here.”

“Thank you,” he acknowledged, sending Grizz back into the bar. He took me by the hand, pressing it to his lips. “It’s time, Sarah. Are you joining us?”

Staring him in the eyes for a moment, reading his gaze, I gave him a stern nod.

“I was hoping you might say that…”

With a thick presence of solemnity, Hunter led me out towards the dusty, thick heat of the desert. We passed the entirety of the Devil’s Dragons MC – fifteen of them in the main room of the bar, parting around us quietly.

I had expected all of us to convene in the bar, or maybe even in the back rooms. But when Hunter continued out, and I stepped out behind him into the sun, I understood why we were leaving the shade for the open air.

There weren’t thirty or forty bikers.

The roll call was
way
bigger than that.

There must have been at least seventy motorcycles in the circular crowd, each one beneath a menacing biker. I could barely make out the emblems, but none of them looked familiar – and at a glance, there were five, maybe six different clubs represented here.

Holy shit,
I thought to myself.

These are the FEW friends he requested?

Hunter held a hand up to my torso, pausing me near the steps. We shared a quick, meaningful glance as his club fanned out around me; I knew they were here to greet the other clubs, but they almost seemed protective as they flanked me from behind and on both sides.

I took the hint. With my breath caught in my lungs, I watched Hunter step alone into the clearing they had left for him.

In response, the rival bikers revved their engines in acknowledgement.

With the rest of us hanging back at his request, Hunter stood tall before them all. As if trying to quell the rising tension, the breeze picked up, whipping the long hair of some of the bikers.

“I am in your debt,” he shouted, fully grasping the mantle of Devil’s Dragons motorcycle club president. “Understand that I would not call upon all of you without just cause, but a mutual enemy has come.”

“And who would that be?” One of the more vicious bikers demanded to know, leaning forward against his handlebars. “I think I speak for a lot of us when I say that
this had better be good, boy.
”

Undeterred, Hunter squared his shoulders.

“I have summoned all of you here to help me face
Víboras Verde
– The Vipers of the Green.”

Murmuring rose among the crowd.

“Some of you will know that name, I expect. Others will not. It has been a long time since they have meddled with our desert.” Hunter spoke to all of them. “For those in the dark, let me tell you a story of the monsters we face…”

In unspoken agreement, the bikers merely listened, some of them positioning themselves more casually on their silent motorcycles.

“I don’t know how far back this cartel stretches. They’re an established presence, but they’re smaller fish. They are not indestructible. I’ve faced them before, with my brothers here…”

Hunter paused, waving back towards the assembled bikers around me. “…And we have made them
bleed,
” he continued with conviction. “We hit them on their own turf, and we hit them
hard.
Hard enough that I didn’t hear a thing out of them for almost eight years…”

One of the bikers nearest Hunter spoke up. He was a wiry, elderly thing – too far away for me to make out any discerning details, but I could barely discern a heavy scar down the side of his face.

The rival president,
I remembered. Hunter had specifically called for this one, and he was important enough that he sent Grizz out into the night to secure him…

“And I suppose you’re gonna be leading the charge?”

Hunter nodded solemnly.

The elderly biker laughed, his chest rattling with old age. “Tell us, Hunter… What have these people done that forces you to call upon the rest of us?”

The rest watched quietly.

Hunter stood his ground. “This cartel deals in the trafficking of women and children – all to be sold into sexual slavery to the most disgusting crime lords and mobs you can imagine. And they aren’t waiting for their victims to come into Mexico anymore…”

The bikers visibly stiffened, glancing between each other. It was clear that they did not take kindly to hearing these words.

“Eight years ago, they made things
very personal
for me,” he confessed gravely. “The fuckers came for my sister – and with the help of the Devil’s Dragons I was able to save her… ”

He paused, choosing his words.

“Now, they have returned, and they are stronger than ever,” Hunter growled, turning purposefully to gaze upon several bikers in the crowd. I could see the burning hatred in his eyes as he updated them on the evil of their enemy.

“These monsters are not kidnapping tourists in Mexico anymore – they’re crossing
our
border, coming into
our
turf and stealing
teenage girls.
These poor, lost souls are forced into drug addiction, kept in the shittiest hovels you can possibly imagine, before they are auctioned off to the highest international bidder – and forced into endless, abominable rape for the rest of their short, miserable lives.”

The entire crowd was silent as they listened to his speech. I watched as Hunter captivated them, his movements focused, powerful, and symbolic.

“
Víboras Verde
has taken over
fifteen
girls in the last two weeks, stealing them away across the border to be left to their fates. But now… we know where they’re going, and it’s closer than we suspected.”

“And how about you tell me something I give a shit about?” The elderly biker called out suddenly, his previous mirth stricken from his stony gaze. “What about the money?”

“They’ll be plenty of money. These assholes are stacking it to the ceiling and we’re gonna hit them right where it hurts. I want the girls, you can split the money.”

To this, engines revved all around, the deafening roar filling the air.

“Juarez lays just south of El Paso, our sister in the South. The cartel is taking the girls to a new safe house ten miles west of the city limits. We take that building and you get to pin a goddamned good samaritan badge on your cut while you stuff your saddle bags with cash… And that’s money nobody on either side of the border is going to be looking for. We’re talking forty million if my source is reliable…”

The elderly president spoke up again. “What is your plan… and what would you have us do?”

Hunter glanced around the assembled bikers again, surveying his manpower resources. After a moment, he turned back towards us again with eyes full of burning conviction.

Several of the men nodded, and I merely crossed my arms and flashed him a smile.

You’ve got this,
I thought aloud to him.

Hunter turned back to the assembled biker clubs. “We mobilize as a convoy, cross the border, and take the fight to them again. They won’t expect a counterstrike, and particularly not one so quickly… we’ll hit them hard and definitively, save the girls who were taken last night, and show them that we will
defend
our young and vulnerable.”

“For that kind of money, I’ll defend your angry goddamned grandmother… but what makes you think this is going to make one fucking lick of difference?” the elderly biker replied. “You hit them before,” he said, stroking the long, wispy scruff of goatee beneath his chin. “And that only drove them away for a few years… what makes you think that this will be any different?”

“There’s a reason we’re talking about so much money here. The cartel is moving further north to centralize themselves closer to the border,” Hunter replied. “This new safe house is being fleshed out into a base of operations. If we can crush them here, tonight, we will sever the viper’s head and scatter its men. One hit, and we take out their finances, their men, and their will to fight.”

“And you think that they will be unprepared?” He scoffed in response. “You’ve attacked them before below the border and they recouped from that. They probably learned their lesson, too. What are your expectations there?”

Hunter reflected on these words, choosing to not answer immediately. The others watched him, prepared to judge him upon his following response…

“I expect them to put up one hell of a fight. This is why I choose to unite us now, calling upon all of you to ride into battle with me… We will sweep through them like an army, and we will show them no mercy for what they have done. You ask me for my expectations? My answer is simple: I expect us to strike
Víboras Verde
and crush them into the blood-stained dust.”

Even without seeing his face, I could
hear
the menace in his conviction. He was showing them the extent of how far he was willing to go to snuff out every last trace of these monsters.

“You believe that,” the elderly biker replied, scratching his chin again thoughtfully. “You believe that with every last drop of blood in your body, don’t you?”

Hunter replied: “With every goddamned drop.”

“And you would be willing to lead this charge yourself?”

“I will not allow another to die in my place,” he insisted gravely. “I am asking you –
all
of you – to ride alongside into battle. But I will never ask you to take a bullet for me.

“I’ll descend into Hell to fight these fuckers and save every last soul that is left… and I will do so at the frontlines.”

The elderly biker descended from his motorcycle and strolled over towards him. While he had been hunched on his bike, the biker uncoiled into a tall, limber creature as he stalked forward.

Gazing down upon Hunter, he smiled.

“I know why you called upon me, Hunter,” he murmured. “Because of the sway I hold. You know that these men respect you, but my opinion is still a factor…

“Regardless, I have listened; you have me convinced. As club president, the Severed Sixteen MC pledges their guns to your cause,” he declared.

Briefly, the rest of the crowd murmured. One by one, the engines of their metal steeds shut down until a cold silence filled the space.

Five other bikers descended from their motorcycles to pledge their clubs. The others were mere representatives of their prospective clubs, acting in the stead of their associated presidents – who deemed themselves too important to join the fight, but were willing to send possibly proxies.

“The Winged Scorpions MC pledges their guns to your cause,” announced the vicious, limber biker who had received the severed finger – the proof of the cartel prisoner’s validity.

The next representative – a portly, balding biker of considerable age – approached and avowed: “The Moonlight Riders MC pledges their guns to your cause.”

And then, a younger but scarred and clearly experienced biker: “The Black Knights MC pledges their guns to your cause.”

Followed by the tallest, broadest one in the crowd: “The Twin Spears MC pledges their guns to your cause.”

But when it came for the final club representative, I felt my breath catch in my lungs.

The world began to spin, and I felt a couple of the Devil’s Dragons near me grab onto me, holding me upright out of concern. I steadied myself and shrugged them off, but offering a look of gratitude towards them before facing the ghost from my past.

He was close enough that I could spot the emblem on his leathers – the same strange one from long before, including the word
President
stitched across the bottom.

That emblem belonged to a face that looked like it had barely aged in eight years. However, it was marked with various new scars now, set deep into his face and adding a layer of darkness to his penetrating gaze.

I never thought I’d see that face again…

And, judging by the way that Hunter stiffened when he saw that face as well, it was as much a surprise to him as to me.

“You know, it’s kind of funny,” the haggard biker president chuckled loudly. “I remember the last time I saw you… you were just some little scamp at the big boy table for the first time. Back in a strip club in Phoenix – do you remember that night?”