RUNNING GAME (A SECOND CHANCE SPORTS ROMANCE) (47 page)

T
he address wasn’t
in Riverton – it was hours and hours away, another quiet spot called Point’s Hallow.

My cell signal was
shit
out here. When I finally arrived at the village, I accidentally crossed a small bridge and passed the entire place up, expecting to find it just beyond the next bend. It was only after fifteen minutes of nothingness, driving through trees and wilderness, that I realized I’d probably missed the place altogether.

Turning around in the fading light of day, I backtracked to the bridge. Standing guard at this side, apparently marking the edge of Point’s Hallow, was a seafood restaurant. With nothing else in sight, it commanded the eye from its perch, raised on stilts over the river. Painted along the side was the name:
Jack’s.

Some landmark
, I thought to myself.

Back across the bridge, I investigated. None of the roads were marked, making my job tougher than it needed to be. The population couldn’t have been any more than maybe eighty or a hundred people, judging by the sparse houses. Almost nobody was around, and I didn’t want to start banging on doorknobs…

The single person I saw wandering about, a woman in smeared overalls with ratty hair, looked at me suspiciously as I pulled up and flicked up my helmet visor.

“Is this
Point’s Hallow?
”

“Who’s askin’?”

“I’m looking for a girl. Name of Angel.”

“Angel?” She laughed, exposing a few missing teeth. This place was
seriously
in the sticks. “You must be a friend of hers!” She was suddenly suspicious again, eying me strangely. “
Are
you a friend of hers?”

“I am,” I confirmed confidently.

The woman peered at me a moment longer, and then nodded. “Good. Yeah, she’s here. Got back into town a few days ago. You know where to find her?”

“Willow Grove Drive,” I told her.

“Yep! That’s it, her and her parents…you know how to find it?, don’t’cha?”

“I’m from out of town,” I bluntly explained.

“Right,” she cackled, sizing me up on the motorcycle. “Might’ve noticed by now, they ain’t no street signs… No fancy
gee pee usss
for us folks in Point’s Hallow, we don’t need ‘em… anyway, here’s what you do…”

She rattled off directions, involving a handful of turns that apparently centered on particular trees and piles of scrap. “You got that?”

“I do. You’re really helping me out here.”

“Great. Tell ‘er that ‘Tricia said ‘hi!’”

“You’ve got it, ma’am,” I nodded.

She positively swooned as I kicked back into gear and drove towards the house.

Her parents.

Old Greg had said she was in danger. He’d spent a few minutes telling me what a piece of shit Angel’s stepfather Roger was before hurrying me down the road.

But maybe he wasn’t the only piece of shit in this town.

I paused, letting the engine rumble as it idled between my thighs.

My thoughts reflected back to what Old Greg had said. Sure, I’d known a lot of that myself, but it was easy for me to justify how I treated people. When someone
else
explained it, someone who barely knew me…it sent a shiver up my spine.

You take what you think belongs to you.

You don’t accept ‘no.’

You CAN’T accept ‘no.’

I shook my head.

This wasn’t my decision. It was hers.

I shuddered.

No. Extenuating circumstances.

My asshole of a manager sent her away. He filled her head with complete bullshit. She never would have left it I was there. I needed to let her know how I felt.

And if she didn’t want to come with me, I’d leave her… Once I knew she was safe and sound back at Old Greg’s bar, away from the danger.

With a heavy heart, I continued on my way. Tricia’s directions had been a little on the bizarre side, but she led me the right way. After a couple of turns, I spotted the silent tire swing, dangling from a tree in the front yard.

I remembered Old Greg’s words from before, when he’d given me the address:
If you pass the tree with the old tire swing, you’ve gone too far.

A dirt road was to my side, heading into the trees. I turned onto it, driving as quietly as possible through the shadows until I saw it.

It was just as Old Greg had said.

The green house was in even worse shape than the Riverton bar. A window was busted out; the roof was caving in from a fallen branch. With the sun set and the shadows growing, the place looked like it had come straight out of a horror film.

Angel’s HERE?

My shaken confidence exploded into a blaze of conviction.

No
, I thought to myself.

This isn’t good enough for her.

No matter what happens…

I killed the engine and kicked down the stand, parking next to an old truck on the edge of the street.

She deserves better than this.

And I’m gonna give it to her.

Every step I took towards the front door, my fresh insecurities burned away. With each heavy stride forward, my doubts, my fears, everything inside that told me that I might
not
be good enough for her faded away.

It all burned to ash in my throat, and the ash blew away in the wind.
Here I am, filthy and contorted king that I am, ready to make a change.

I raised my fist to knock at the door.

That’s when I heard my Angel scream.

T
he medicine hit
me like a sack of bricks, dulling my senses within minutes. Just like before, the pills pushed their digging, constricting fingers into my head, forcing up a wall between the world and me.

I hated it.

My speech slurred and my vision shook. Even my mind had started to drift. I’d planted myself on the couch and was content to count the dirty spots on the carpet, at least for as long as I could.

Mother means best. She just wants me to feel better.

An hour later, as I was absentmindedly running my fingers through my hair, I heard something outside. Quietly and gradually, I peeled myself up from my seat and stumbled over to the window. The old Ford pickup, rusted halfway to hell with a brutishly cracked windshield, was as unmistakable as the day I saw it last.

Oh God, no.

Roger had come for me.

“Mom?
MOM?
”

Her exasperated voice came from deeper in the house, somewhere towards her bedroom. “What is it, dear? I can’t understand you.”

“Roooooger... Rooger…” I could barely utter the warning. My tongue was tying itself in knots, rebelling against that blackened name.

“Oh, don’t be alarmed,” she called out cheerily. My mother came into the room, a smile slathered across her face. “He’s a good man, Angel. He cleaned up his act! Joined the church and everything. When he heard you’re back in town, he just wanted to pay you a little visit.”

“NO!” I shouted, stumbling away from the window.

Standing above me, Mom’s small smile soured. She suddenly looked at me like I was disgusting to her. “The Devil’s in you, girl. Has been ever since the accident. Always making you say evil, wicked things…”

I watched as she opened the door, my mouth hanging open. I had to calm down. Losing control of myself was only going to make things harder. I needed to get the hell out of here. My feet struggled to gain purchase on the floor, the medicine dulling my senses with a drunken, crippling high.

The door opened, Roger’s smiling face peering in.

The sight of him burned terror into my mind.

“Sally!” Roger grinned. “And you brought our little one…”

“I’m gonna head down to the store and let you two get reacquainted,” Mom smiled, glancing from him to me. I felt something inside me struggle to scream; it was caged up, struggling to penetrate this damning haze. “Roger, be a dear and teach this girl some proper manners.”

No. You CAN’T leave. Don’t do this to me!

I bitterly tried to say something – anything – but the words came out sideways. Mother just smiled and gave Roger a pat on the arm, thanking him for coming before stepping out the door.

I sat there in stunned silence, my vision pulling into a tunnel. Time seemed to stretch forever. Roger found himself a seat on mother’s recliner and waited patiently.

Five minutes passed, then ten. The medicine had taken hold. I was slipping away, just like I always did…

“I see you’re scared,” he said, his voice full of malice. “You never should have run away, my little Angel…”

My mouth was moving, but no sounds were coming out.

“I’ve missed you, babygirl,” Roger grinned. “It’s been too long. I thought I’d never see you again… but here you are. We’re back where we should be… together.”

A memory flashed into my head.

It was the night that Trent took me away from Riverton. I the early hours of the morning, with the sun rising ahead of us, he was driving so quickly. I’d almost blacked out from the anxiety of being brought back to the accident… but I’d focused on the logo on his dashboard.

I had made it my stone.

It had kept me hanging on.

Roger was the demon from my past, threatening to engulf me again. If I was a fallen, burning Angel, casting myself down into the dirt from the life Trent tried to show me, then he was Satan himself.

The words came back, whispered into my soul.

I will be no burning Angel.

My eyes focused onto his, unwilling to lose to him. I could barely form the thoughts, but they came, pushing through the darkness. No matter what he might do to me – what he might take from me – he was not going to have my soul.

Maybe Trent would have deserved it. He’d pulled me up from the shattered, meaningless life I’d been living. Maybe he would have changed. He had the capacity for kindness and generosity, deep inside that arrogant mind of his.

But I’d fled the safety of his arms, because I thought I was bringing him down… but also because I knew I didn’t deserve it. Because I didn’t want him to have that kind of power over me, neither him nor
anyone
else.

What had that gotten me?

I’d been trapped here, with my mortal enemy. But now, even though my body’s sluggishness was going to betray me, I knew more than ever that I would never give in.

I will be no burning Angel.

“How much do you remember, sweetheart?” Roger asked, carefully watching me and grinning ear to ear.

“Stay… Stay away…” I managed to barely murmur, the words sounding far less coherent as they left my throat. “You can’t… I won’t let you…”

He laughed heartily.

Of course I didn’t have any control here.

That didn’t mean that I’d go down without a fight. Even if I didn’t have an ounce of strength in my veins, I’d resist whatever vile things my stepfather had in mind… I would
never
give in.

“Don’t worry,” Roger said, reaching out to the little table next to the recliner. He lifted up the bottle of pills mother had given me, glancing at it and giving it a little shake. “When I’m done tonight, you won’t remember anything
ever
again.”

Something snapped inside me. I couldn’t move… I couldn’t fight him… but I channeled every last drop of resistance I had into my final act of defiance.

I did the only thing I could… I
screamed
.

W
ithout a second of hesitation
, I threw my weight into the door, tearing it free from its rotten hinges in a burst of splinters and debris.

There she was. Angel was looking up at me from the floor with wide, glazed eyes full of surprise and sudden recognition. Her scream had been cut short by my sudden arrival, but a new sound had risen up in its place.

“Who the fuck are
you
?”

The voice was cold and fierce, but as I turned, the man who spoke them looked neither of those things. He was older and frail, but Old Greg had been wise enough to give me a physical description of Angel’s monster. Without another word, I knew what a piece of shit I was staring at.

“Hello, Roger,” I grit my teeth.

Confused and furious, he tried to clamor to his feet from the recliner. I was faster, knocking his ass straight back into the chair. With his filthy, oily head slumped to the side, Roger was out like a goddamned light.

He deserved worse. It took every last ounce of self-control to resist snapping his thin little neck in front of her.

“Get up, Angel. We’re getting out of here,” I said, looking back to my girl against the floor. She didn’t respond or make any move to climb to her feet.

“…Angel?”

Something was very, very wrong.

Angel was mumbling to herself as I kneeled down next to her. I could already see that she was a pale reflection of her former self… as if the life had been sucked out of her.

“What the hell did they do to you?” I questioned, hauling her up into my arms. Her limp, dead weight brought my rising worry to new, horrified levels.

Angel’s head rolled to the side, but she weakly shrugged her shoulder to the side. When she did it again, moving her head with the motion, I followed the direction to the bottle of pills.

They fucking drugged her.

“Stay with me. I’m getting you out of here.”

I thought quickly, deciding I’d need to show this bottle to someone. Maybe I could get her a counteracting agent if she didn’t pull back from this soon… and it would certainly give us ammunition against her parents.

We can cross that bridge when we come to it.

She smiled weakly as I snatched up the pills, then walked her out to the bike and secured her on the back of the seat. My suspicions were confirmed as I held her steady – there was
no way in hell
that she’d be able to hang on. Improvising, I pulled my belt off and used it to strap her tighter against the backrest. Climbing on, I fired up the machine and felt her grip me weakly.

We have to get out of here.

Out of this town, out of this goddamned state…

As I twisted the throttle and started down the road, the blast of a shotgun went off behind us. Frail bastard that he was, Roger must have managed to get up out of his goddamned chair.

“Hang on!”

I gunned it around the first turn and blasted down the nearly abandoned roadways. Angel’s arms tightened around my chest just enough to let me know she was there. I sure as hell wasn’t going to waste my time looking for police in this Podunk little town. I needed to get Angel somewhere safe, then we could figure out what happened back there.

The biting wind seemed to bring Angel back, miles ticking by as she pressed herself against my back, her strength ever so slowly returning.

That’s my girl…

I rode long and hard, putting as much distance behind us as I could. My destination was well in mind. Angel and I were leaving Alabama behind… tonight. But there was no way I could do that without giving Old Greg another chance to see his granddaughter, safe and sound.

“You came for me…” Angel whispered softly as we came to a stop outside the old Riverton Bar. Her legs shook lightly as she stepped off the bike, but she quickly gained her footing. She didn’t even need to lean on me that much.

Sure, the motorcycle had presented a logistical problem at first… but the wind had done wonders to snap her back out of that drug-fueled cloud.

“What the hell did they do to you, Angel?” I asked, looking her over. “Are you hurt? Did he harm you?”

“I think I’m okay now. Mom gave me some of my anxiety pills…” She sounded weak still, but at least she could hold a conversation. It was progress that I was willing to take. “She said she just wanted to calm me down. I didn’t really have any withdrawal symptoms before, but I guess my body forgot how to hold them like I used to…”

“And that sick fuck, Roger?”

“I think he was going to kill me,” she replied, her voice quiet and fearful.

“That will
never
happen,” I snarled. “There’s no statute of limitations on the things he’s done. Soon as we get back, you’re reporting that bastard. I don’t care what it costs, I don’t care how long it takes, we’re taking him down.”

Angel glanced up at me, strands of her hair falling in front of her eyes. I was afraid that she was going to resist me on this, but the night had sapped her strength. Instead, she surprised me: “Do you really mean that, Trent?”

My resolve hardened. Even if I hadn’t just walked in on a complete atrocity, the forlorn, hopeful look in her eyes only made me more infuriated.
How can someone hurt somebody like this?
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire fucking life.”

Quietly, a small smile crossed her lips.

I took Angel by the hand and walked her away from the bike, my other arm around her shoulder. Her footing only slipped slightly twice as we crossed the gravel towards the front door of the old, decrepit saloon.

Old Greg was tending at the Riverton Bar when we stepped in from the darkness. Angel was still a bit shaky on her feet, and he faltered at the sight of her, instantly abandoning his patrons. A silence fell over everyone as they turned and recognized their usual, plucky bartender – trembling and clutching onto me in the doorway for support.

“Angel!” He held back tears, hobbling around to greet us. “You’re back!”

She looked at him strangely for a moment, then back to me. “Old Greg, I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye. I just couldn’t look you in the eye.”

“You look like hell,” he muttered huffily.

“Thanks a ton,” Angel grumbled in return.

I glanced between them, confused and only growing angrier by the second… until I realized that the two of them were softly smiling.

“Tell me what those people did to you, girl.”

Angel looked away, unwilling to speak.

Old Greg peered at me curiously, instead.

“There was trouble,” I answered carefully.

“You saw what was happening to her,” he stated bitterly. Not as a question, but a recognition. I wasn’t sure if he really wanted to have this conversation, particularly in front of his patrons, but I nodded sternly.

“First time something out of the ordinary happens, I always write that up as a fluke,” Old Greg told me, “but when it happens again, there’s a pattern. You are no fluke. You’ve saved my Angel again.”

“If happens a third time, I definitely don’t want a shotgun involved.” I allowed the corner of my lip to curl up, watching his reaction harden with realization. “It was cute when she did it the first time, but I’m getting
real
sick of that.”

Before Old Greg could open his mouth to retort, Angel chuckled weakly. “I think it’s your turn next time, Trent.”

“I’ll just rely on my fists, thank you,” I grinned.

Old Greg’s lungs heaved with a deep, reflective sigh. “The last time we spoke, I sent you from this place a different man than the one who entered. Tell me, Trent… have you decided what kind of man you are?”

“I have,” I nodded.

“And what kind of man is that?”

For the first time since meeting, I looked at him for who he really was. He wasn’t an obstacle to a sexual conquest. Nor was he a crotchety, elderly fool in a rundown bar, or a hurdle in my quest to find her.

Old Greg was a mentor…and a friend.

“The kind that will keep Angel safe and protected for as long as she’ll have me, and even past that,” I told him. “I give you my word that, no matter who I was before…Angel will
always
be safe with me.”

He stared me in the eyes, searching for any chink in my resolve. After a moment, he finally nodded. Angel seemed confused, but she hadn’t said a word.

“I don’t expect miracles, son… but I see how she looks at you, and how you look at her… and it makes me believe.”

He extended his hand.

I thought back to when I made that gesture to him. He’d seen me for what I really was, back then. I’d been an idiot, fueled by the erection in my jeans, eager to take and use whoever came crawling my way. Angel hadn’t mattered to me. She had just been my latest sexual conquest, ripped away from me before I could claim her. Old Greg had me rightfully pinned as a lecherous snake from the start, and had ignored my grasp before.

With these thoughts in my head, I gratefully, appreciatively shook his hand.

I was a changed man…

No longer the king of the filth.

And it had only been because of them.

“Thank you for bringing her to me,” Old Greg smiled, the first sincere expression of joy he’d had towards me, “and for giving me one last time with my Angel...”

He pulled me in close, whispering in my ear.

“And promise me, son, that you will
never
let her step foot in this state ever again.”

“You have my word,” I solemnly agreed.

I saw unmistakable sadness flood his expression. It was only there for a brief moment, before cold, hardened resolution replaced it. It was the only sliver of weakness I ever saw penetrate this old, hardy man.

Old Greg nodded curtly, gave Angel a quick but emotional hug. This time, when he and Angel parted, I knew that it had happened the proper way – no stealing away in the middle of the night with a hastily scribbled note.

I knew that they could both live with this.

We parted ways for the final time, before he turned back towards his patrons. As I held the door open for her, proud that she didn’t need my support now, I glanced across at him for one last moment. With a grave expression on his face, Old Greg never once looked our way again.

It wasn’t until I got outside that I realized he hadn’t come clean. He never told her who he was, or the history they had together before the bar.

Maybe he just wanted to stay forgotten.