Page 11 of Champion

“Sorry. I’m not used to talking about this, so I don’t know where to start.”

“Okay. How about explaining what all these bags are about?”

“Right. Those are supplies for women.”

Opal turns to me and raises an eyebrow.

“You’ve probably heard me talk about my buddy Harley.”

“Yes, I’ve heard his name. I don’t know who he is to you, though.”

“We go back a long way. To make that long story short, he, and now his wife, help to fight human trafficking. Mostly, he sends money to people in other countries to prevent these women from ending up here or in another country. But he also works to rescue those women if they do end up here.” I pause to look at Opal. She nods, but her jaw is clenched. “These bags are for some women he rescued this week.”

Opal pauses as she takes this in. “So why are they up on King Mountain?”

“We have some buddies up there. Waylon and his men own a bunch of property. Well, they own half the damn mountain. Some of it they run as a business. They have vacation cabins they rent and cabins they use to hide people until it’s safe for them to go home or find a new place to call home.”

Opal keeps driving, her fingers wrapping and rewrapping around the steering wheel. “Is this where the money from the cash withdrawals goes?”

“Some of it, yes,” I say simply. “Some of the money is for supplies like we’re bringing. Most of it goes directly to Harley. There’s a lot of bribery and payoffs involved inworking to shut down these operations, whether it’s here or in the countries these women are taken from.”

“How did you get involved in this?”

I inhale and wait as Opal navigates a busy intersection. “We met through mutual friends. He’s an unaffiliated biker. He used to belong to a club, but he struck out on his own. When he first told me about what he does, I thought about what I would do if something like this happened to Beth, and I was immediately on board. These women and their families don’t deserve this kind of cruelty,” I tell her, unable to keep the passion out of my voice. “We give money and supplies; people like Waylon and his crew offer safe shelter and protection. Harley is a loner, but he’s built a rock-solid network. He’s been at this a while. This works on absolute trust and secrecy.” I look at Opal, making sure she understands. “That means you can’t talk about any of this, not even to Beth or Shelly.”

“I understand. Beth and Shelly know about this?” Opal asks, clearly surprised.

“No, they don’t, and they don’t need to.” I emphasize my words. It’s no secret women love to gossip, but I’m taking a chance with Opal. I’m confident she can keep her mouth shut, but I still feel the need to drive home the importance of the secrecy of this.

“If this is so secret, how come you’re letting me come up here with you?”

I take a deep breath. “Well, the damn truck crapped out on me, for one. More than that, I know what you went through trying to help your sister. We don’t know each other well – yet—but I know someone like you understands this morethan the average person. You don’t seem quite as much of a gossip as my sister or other women.”

“Thanks, I guess?” Opal says, but her joyful laugh fills the car. “But wait. How did Beth and Shelly deal with the cash withdrawals? They’ve both worked on your books.”

At this, I chuckle. “They classified them as something. I’m stubborn, and they didn’t need to know.”

“Shocking!” Opal’s voice is teasing, and it makes me smile. More seriously, she adds, “I understand about keeping this private. You can rely on me.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.” I reach out and touch her arm, and she turns to me and smiles.

Fuck. I want to see that smile for a long time to come.

“Take a left at the fork. We’re here.”

CHAPTER 7

Iadmire what you’re doing, Champ. This isn’t something I would have guessed. Not that I think you don’t care about people,” I add quickly. “More like you’ve kept this so quiet. Everyone knows how much community means to you and how much you give.”

“Thanks, Opal. I know what you meant. Just pull into the parking here, and we’ll hike the rest of the way. It’s not far.”

I pull my scarf tightly around my throat to ward off the chill of the mountain air. Everything up here is crisp and cold, and it’s barely sunset. Champ hands me a couple of bags, then carries most of them himself.

He leads me to a cabin with lights blazing. He knocks loudly on the door, and a voice calls out, telling us the door is open. Inside the cabin, a fire is blazing, and a burly, bearded man stands in front of a beeping microwave.

“Champ! Good to see you!” The man puts a steaming mug of coffee on the counter and comes over to slap Champ on the shoulder.

“Good to see you, too, Waylon. Though I wish the circumstances were better.”

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