Chapter 15 #2
“We generally hold six to nine fights per night. Each month, we average two to three of them. Before we started the other business, we had them four nights per week. However, by spacing them out, we sometimes gain more money than we would by doing them more often. And the cash we make is nothing compared to the amount netted on fight ring nights,” Oliver bragged.
The arena was a dirt-and-grass area. By the end of the night, it would be nothing but dirt and soaked in blood.
People greeted the Carters and their silent, hulking muscle.
The way they said hello and the degree of fear beneath their words, or slipping through their carefully crafted masks, showed they did it out of concern.
No one wanted to upset the Carter family, especially the patriarch, Oliver, and his prizefighter.
Truce was watched with awe and greed, interspersed with dread.
The real heartbreak was when we arrived at the dogs. Rome smiled as he took over speaking.
“Deprivation is to make them mean. They have to be trained to win.”
“How the hell do you do that?” I asked.
I held Aubrielle cradled to my chest. She kept her face averted. The dogs’ scars were horrific. The missing eyes, ears, and tattered body parts covered in poorly healed scars made my stomach churn. The animals snarled, barked, and threw themselves against the bars.
“You keep them hungry. I feed mine every third day. You teach them that food is never guaranteed. And they have to be taught that their owner is the one to dread the most. An owner is either their savior or their destruction,” Rome replied, smirking.
The urge to punch him in the face, then take him to the ground and beat him to a pulp burned inside of me.
“It’s cruel and disgusting,” his sister snapped.
We anticipated this kind of reaction from Aubrielle. It was evident when she told us about the fights. We coached her to allow her usual remarks and responses to be aired. And what our responses would be, and how to react to them.
“That’s enough. We’re talking business,” I told her with a bite to my voice. She cast her eyes downward as she seemed to shrink.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered loud enough for those closest to hear.
“Glad to see she found a man to help mold that mouthiness out of her. Have you had to beat her yet?” Rome asked, smiling.
I raised my arctic stare to his gaze. “How I discipline her is none of your concern. Just know, if she requires to be reprimanded or tempered, it’s my job, not anyone else’s,” I snarled.
Rome’s hands went up in the air after he exchanged a glance with his dad. “No disrespect meant. Just know that if you want tips on what works, we can give those to you.”
The shudder that went through Aubrielle’s body registered.
Inside me, my fury grew. I would be speaking to her about what had been done to her.
I was relieved when we walked away from the cages and the ongoing baiting.
We ended up on one side of the enclosed area.
Chairs were set up there. Oliver gestured to them.
“Please, sit, relax. Can we get you anything to drink?”
We sat, but declined drinks. The way Jock and Jace whispered and cast concerned looks our way wasn’t the biggest concern.
It was clear they were secondary characters in this family.
The true power was with Oliver and Rome.
What remained a mystery was Truce’s true place. It had to be more than a mere fighter.
He was seated, not next to Aubrielle’s dad or oldest brother.
Instead, he sat on one end of the semicircle we were in, which had him directly across from my old lady and me.
Seated on one side of Oliver was Rome, and on the other was Reaper.
On the opposite side of Rome, in descending order, sat Jock, Jace, and Truce.
On our side were Reaper, Crusher, Tinker, Ratchet, Aubrielle, and me.
It wasn’t long before the excited chatter grew as two dogs were dragged into the enclosure.
They had on wire muzzles. Their owners cautiously removed them after moving to the safe side of the fence.
The dogs crouched, exposing their teeth and snarling, as hatred gleamed in their eyes.
They stared at their opponent. Then commands to attack were given, and they did so.
I’d never seen a real dog fight in person.
I’d heard people talk about them, and once saw a video of one.
I thought they were disgusting, yet I hadn’t understood how horrific they were until I saw one myself.
The sounds, smells, and vibe added to it.
It took everything I had not to walk off or express my disgust with fists.
As for Aubrielle, I held her to me and cupped my hands over her hands, which were covering her ears.
She kept her eyes shut. I noted the amusement on her brothers’ faces whenever they glanced at her.
But they kept their fucking mouths shut.
Of the six matches, two losing dogs were killed. Their owners swore at the poor animals even though they couldn’t hear them anymore. I wondered what they would do with the bodies. I doubted they’d be buried.
As for those who survived, even the victors weren’t without injuries.
I noted a man who raced around after each match, patching them up.
I asked who he was. Oliver stated the guy was an actual veterinarian they paid to do the job.
I wanted that fucker’s name. He would pay for his involvement.
How could he allow those dogs to suffer what they did?
He profited from their pain. He’d be made to suffer in repayment.
Finally, the awful fucking night came to an end. It was all I could do to stay quiet as we reentered the panel truck for the ride back. With us alone, Aubrielle allowed her tears to fall. She muffled her sobbing so no one could hear it. I held her on my lap, cradling her so she felt safe to let go.
She didn’t do it for long. She forced herself to stop after about ten minutes. Then she scrubbed at her face, trying to remove the evidence of her tears. I heard rustling, then my arm was nudged. Reaper was holding out in the dim light what looked like a tissue. When I took it, I found it was damp.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Wet wipe. You’ll carry them too once you become a dad. You never know when you’ll need one,” he said softly.
I gave it to Aubrielle so she could scrub her face. When she was finished, she reached over and squeezed Reaper’s forearm.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
When the truck came to a standstill, we all rose and waited impatiently for the door to open. When the wait began to stretch out longer than was needed, I pushed Aubrielle behind me as I whispered.
“Give it to me.”
She knew what I meant. Her gun slipped into my waiting hand.
My club brothers shifted, placing one hand on the side of the cargo area to balance as they opened the hidden sole compartment, slipping out their knives.
They were all back to standing there casually when the door was opened.
Pretending to be unconcerned, we all got out.
The four Carters and Truce stood there facing us, wearing unsmiling expressions. I forced my body to remain relaxed yet ready. I’d perfected that ability since joining the Punishers. Reaper took the initiative to speak first.
“That was enlightening. When will we be able to see the moneymaker? I hope it’s soon.
We’re deciding between this venture and another one that we’ve been told can be lucrative for our club.
Since you’re Aubrielle’s family, it would be preferable to deal with you, but money is money, and the one who proves their worth first gets to do business with us.
We have connections and a cover that hides so many sins.
I promised the other interested party I’d have an answer for them in two weeks.
My club can’t make an informed decision without seeing everything. ”
“What do you mean by everything?” Oliver asked.
“I mean the fight ring match and the books. I’ve got to know how successful these ventures are and how you protect yourselves from detection. We won’t blow our cover and go down for someone else’s sloppiness,” Pres told him boldly.
The way their faces tightened and turned darker, they disliked what he implied. However, they needed us more than we supposedly needed them. This truth became clear when they swallowed their anger to answer.
“We’re having a match next Friday. Be here by six o’clock. It’ll take us longer to get there. After the fight, we’ll sit down and look at the books. You’ll get to see why Truce is our prize fighter. He’s fighting that night.”
“We’ll be here. Question: How many matches are fought in a night? Just one or several leading up to the big fight, as they do for UFC fights?” Reaper asked.
“The number can vary from four in total to as many as nine. The winner from each match fights one of the other match winners until it's just the overall winner and Truce. As the undefeated champ, he doesn’t have to fight for his spot. Sometimes, we do it where it’s someone else’s so-called champion against him, like a title fight.
When that happens, it’s the only fight of the night.
That’s what we’re doing next week,” Rome explained.
“Then we’ll see you then,” Reaper replied.
I forced myself to shake their hands, the way my brothers did, then we got on our bikes and rode off.
Like last time, we watched to see if we were followed or picked up a tail.
If we were, they were very clever about it.
Miles down the road, the other members joined our group.
As we got closer to home, the tension in Aubrielle gradually eased, as it had last time.