Running Game(129)

5





Trent





When I stepped out of the bathroom, I heard scuffling from the bar. I never should have left her alone with them.

They were a pack of wild, drunken animals, and she was a young, sexy, defenseless girl.

There was no argument.

No questioning in my head.

I knew what I had to do and I acted.

The group had her pinned against the bar top. Judging by the muffled noises, a hand was clamped tightly over her lips. They were hungrily pulling at her miniskirt when the last one spotted me just a moment too late.

With a sickly crack, my fist connected with his face, sending the man stumbling backwards against the others.

Two of the assholes kept holding the poor girl down while the big one – probably their leader, by the looks of it – reeled forward with a roaring fist.

I sidestepped, tripping him into a table and sending the remnants of a beer splashing at my feet. Things were rapidly getting out of control. The bikers recovered quickly, lunging for me in unison.

Thinking fast, I stepped backwards but slipped on the wet floor. My head connected with a barstool, making me vulnerable just at the wrong time.

Someone grabbed me by the shirt as I tried to orient myself. A powerful fist smashed into my face, but I detached myself and head-butted the offender.

“Fuck!” The voice called out.

It sounded like the leader.

Good.

The other guy tried to lash at me as I clambered to my feet, but I ducked his strike. Using his weight to my advantage, I grabbed at his arm and knocked him off balance. Before he could regain footing, I drove his head straight down into the bar.

His skull connected with a resounding WHAM!

The leader was on top of me again, as he tried to get in a solid gut punch. I took one in the ribs before managing to push him back.

My hand brushed against a dirty glass. It was a stray tumbler, fostering the last few, forgotten sips of dark liquor.

Perfect, I thought to myself.

I smashed it hard against the side of his face.

“Goddammit!” He cried out as glass flew everywhere. “You fucking SHIT!”

I could hear a commotion from behind him. Lunging forward, I dove like a feral animal towards the two bikers still holding down the bartender.

She was kicking and fighting and had managed to bite the hand covering her face.

I aimed my weakened but effective punch at the distracted biker with the bitten hand, catching him just off-center. Stunned, he stumbled backwards against a low wall.

The bartender broke free from the other asshole, dodging around the rising leader and behind the counter.

Whoever this girl was, she was a quick and nimble little minx. She dove behind the bar.

The leader got in a few good licks at me before I grappled him down to the floorboards. He got the upper hand briefly, but I managed to force him onto his back, straddling him and delivering a few solid wallops to either side of his head.

I was just climbing up when I heard the scraping behind me.

Before I knew what was happening, the bar stool connected with my head. Falling, my eyes cast back to the bar. A beautiful yet frightening face was rising from behind the dark wooden counter with a beastly looking 12-gauge shotgun in her hands. An explosion rang out, the gun punching a large hole in the ceiling. My loudly ringing ears couldn’t mask the unmistakable sound of the pretty girl racking another shell.

…And then everything went black.





6





Angel





It was awhile before Trent finally started to stir. The tiny, makeshift bed creaked with his sleepy, sluggish movements, and I firmly pressed my fingertips down over his pectoral.

“No. Stay down. Rest.”

He nodded quietly, relaxing back down.

I lifted my fingers from his chest. Even through his shirt, I could tell how built he was. He probably had a stack of washboard abs below.

Privately, I grumbled that it hadn’t occurred to me to bother checking that.

This guy was probably a muscle powerhouse beneath these clothes, and I’d missed my one chance to sneak a peak without him knowing.

“Do you want something to drink?” I asked.

“Water,” he asked.

I reached for the glass that I’d prepared and left beside him. Holding the edge to his lips, I carefully slipped him some of the cold water.

“Where are we?” He asked me, coughing.

“Where I live,” I answered truthfully.

We were in a backroom with a single window casting in moonlight from above. A bare lightbulb hung from the ceiling but I hated its sickly glow, so I relied on the natural light (or lack thereof).

Besides, I was used to moving around in the dark.

It made it easier to forget that I was trapped living in such a complete dump.

“I thought you were an asshole when you walked in,” I remarked. “You kept looking at me like I was a hot piece of meat... And then you go and save me from those fuckers.”