Page 6 of Tico

Chapter 4

Ember

MyshoulderstenseasI hear the quiet whisper of the door shutting behind me and I know I’m not alone. Reese, Dad and Uncle Ryan left a few minutes ago so I could get cleaned up, but I knew Duncan would find his way here despite the danger of getting caught by the club.

“What in the ever-fucking-hell are you doing fighting in the fucking underground pits, Em?” Duncan demands and I turn, giving him a bored look.

I knew this argument was coming as soon as I saw him, but I’m already done with this conversation. He should already know my answer.

“What I have to do to protect Pyper,” I whisper, and I see the fight leave him as his shoulders drop. “As long as I fight and make the club money, she gets to live a normal life.”

He knows that’s all I’ve ever wanted for her—to have the life I never got to have.

“When did the legit fights stop?”

“They haven’t, but they started preparing me for the underground fights the day after they discovered you left.”

His shoulders slump even more. “I can get you out. Both of you.”

I lower my gaze, wanting to believe that, but I know I’ll always be hunted. Especially since I know Dad had a tracker injected under my skin. Pyper, too. Dad and Uncle Ryan think I don’t know about them, among other things, but they don’t realize how much I’ve been able to gleam from everyone in the club over the years. When those assholes get drunk, they spill so much information and dirt that I’m surprised no one has ratted them out yet.

Then again, they think because me and the others are women, we don’t understand what they’re talking about. But I’ve heard a shit ton about their operations. Enough that I could bring them down if I really wanted to.

Most of my time is spent at the club’s bar or gym. If I’m not training, then I’m usually working either at the bar or tattooing. Though, they only let me tattoo women in the small, converted room that’s barely big enough for my station and a chair for them to sit in. Still, I’m grateful I’m able to tattoo as it’s one of my few loves in life. In the beginning, neither Dad nor Scooter wanted me to tattoo, or to even have tattoos. I just had to pitch my idea in a way that had Scooter and my dad seeing dollar signsand it worked. I also work at a diner in town, but those hours are few and far between. I’m lucky if I get a shift a week.

Aside from fighting, I’d always loved art and when Duncan found out I could draw, he encouraged me as I learned new techniques. He was also the one that taught me how to tattoo later on. His absence the past six years has cut me to the core, even though I tried not to let it. I’m glad he was able to escape but he and his aunt and uncle are my only other allies outside of Pyper. I can’t even fully rely on Rochelle since Dad keeps her locked up with the other women most of the time. I think I could rely on Reese, but while I know he used to fight himself, I don’t know much about him.

“He’ll follow us,” I reply and I find myself subconsciously rubbing the upper part of my arm where the tracker is embedded. I know I can just dig it out of both our arms, but I’m saving that for when wehaveto run. I don’t want to tip him off too early that I know about them.

Duncan’s jaw clenches in anger as he tracks the movement. When his gaze meets mine again, it softens. “You call if you need help, Em. You know I’ll come running.”

Swallowing thickly, I nod. I’d memorized his phone number years ago as a precaution and bought a burner phone that I keep stashed away since I know my dad tracks everything on my other phone. We’ve texted a bit over the years, but I still miss him like crazy.

“I better go before they find me in here. Stay safe, Em, and remember that my offer is still there. It always will be.”

My eyes burn. I want to take him up on his offer for a job tattooing in his shop, but I worry about bringing my troubles to his doorstep. He shouldn’t have to fight that battle again after he already escaped it.

Just as quietly as he entered, he leaves, and I slump down on the bench next to my bag, my mind whirling. Sighing, I digthrough my bag for my bathroom stuff and walk over to the showers. I could always leave stuff in a locker here, but I worry something will get stolen out of it. Especially with the crew that runs around here. Reese already prepared me an ice bath. I loathe the thought of sitting in it, but if I don’t, I know I’ll hurt even more tomorrow.

Half an hour later, I’ve bathed, showered, doctored myself up and got dressed. As I shoulder my bag, I groan. Luna got in a couple of good shots at my ribs and fuck do they hurt. I know she hasn’t bruised or broken a rib, because yes, I know what that pain feels like, but I’ll be stiff for a few days and probably have a nasty bruise before long.

Walking out into the empty hall, I make my way toward the back entrance and out to my old beater of a car. Since it’s fight night, I’m not expected to work in the bar, thank fuck, so I make my way home to our trailer just outside of town. Dad will probably be out drinking all night—he usually does on fight nights. He might even have dragged our stepmother, Rochelle, out to the clubhouse to pass her around to all of his brothers. I shiver as I try to block out those memories. I’ve seen way more of her than I ever wanted to. I’m just lucky that I’ve been deemed untouchable since I know Dad has plans to sell my virginity. I’ve thought about losing it just to fuck up his plans, but I never liked the idea of sleeping with someone just to fuck or to scratch an itch.

Pulling into our drive, I relax when I see that the only light on is in the room Pyper and I share since the trailer only has two bedrooms. The rest of the trailer is dark which means Dad’s not home. Deciding to keep my gear in the trunk, I grab my smaller bag and head inside. I can hear Rochelle’s soft snores, and I’m grateful she’s escaped Dad’s hands tonight.

Our real mother, Renee, died when Pyper was two. Dad came home drunk and was throwing a fit that Pyper was fussy sinceshe had a cold. He hit Mom alongside her head with a heavy bottle and she fell, never getting up again. I grabbed Pyper and rushed her back into our room after that, not wanting Dad’s rage to fixate on Pyper next. A year later, he married Erica, who I later found out was a hangaround at the club. While she was nice, she didn’t last long, unfortunately. Once again, Dad killed her in a rage. Shortly after that, he married Rochelle. She pretends to appear ‘broken’ and ‘brainwashed’ when she’s around Dad or the club, but when they aren’t around, the real Rochelle shines out. Like Erica had, Rochelle also tries to help us out as much as she can.

When I open our bedroom door, Pyper looks up from the book she’s reading and smiles at me, but then her smile falls when she takes in my new bruises.

“Did you win?” she asks as she puts her book down.

She hates that I have to fight but she also knows why I do it.

“Yeah, Baby, I did.”

Gingerly, I sit down on our bed before lying down and she curls up facing me. Ever since mom died, Dad’s tried to keep Erica and later Rochelle under his thumb as much as possible, which means, most of the time, they were kept at the compound with the others at the clubhouse. They’re forced to work a homestead to keep them busy when they aren’t cleaning, cooking, or being an easy hole for the club members.

As a result, I was the one that mostly raised Pyper after mom died, even though I could barely take care of myself at the time. Thank fuck one of the cut sluts, what the club calls their bunnies, Frannie, took pity on me. She took me under her wing as much as she was able to. She was the one that taught me how to cook, clean, do laundry, everything.