I entered battle mode. Fuck what the crowd paid for! I threw a succession of strikes, each one landing. Ace wanted to fight back. He really wanted to. But he had been weakened. It wasn’t the way I wanted to take him out, but it would be the way that he went. I drew back for what I knew to be the final connecting punch, and slammed my gloved fist into the side of his face.
I watched his eyes roll back. When that happened, I uppercut him—twice! His head and his shoulders tried to work as a team to be his savior. His savior from an impending fall . . .
Ace
There was no rebounding.
Ace hit the canvas, and the countdown began.
He tried, but he couldn't find the strength to get up. Nor, could he find the strength to fight. Would he be arrested once this fight was over? Was his brother even still alive? Was Dex even still alive? Would he get his money to be able to save his brother—if his brother was still alive?
And as the referee stood over him, counting down, Ace stayed down. He was done. He only needed the money. It was always about the money. He only needed to be in the ring with Caivano. But how stupid was that, if he only stayed in for two rounds? His career would be done, if he didn’t get the fuck up!
Ace decided that he needed to try, no matter what!
It was in those final seconds that Ace decided that it was time for him to get up. The crowd roared, a mixture of boos and cheers. Not just that, Dario was yelling, and hurling insults the entire time, enraged.
“Get the fuck up! Let’s do this! This is what you wanted! Was it worth it, bitch?! Get up, so I can end your ass!”
The goading got to Ace, and at the count of nine, Ace found the strength to get up off the ring’s floor. It was slow and steady, but he made it to his feet. He felt empowered, hopeful. However, just as he found his footing, Dario rushed him, unrelentingly. With a right-handed uppercut, Dario put, ‘The End’, on the story.
Ace hit the floor for the second time—in the second round—and didn't get up after that.
CHAPTER 80
Dario
Standing in the ring with all the background noise, all the flashing lights, and all the family, was like a rebirth. It was what I needed to come back to life. I had gone to a seriously sunken place. One that I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to pull myself from. Surprisingly, the rush had returned to me. I thought back to how fighting was there for me as a release when I lost the only brother I’d ever known. When I lost Lucas, all I wanted to do was avenge his murder. I wanted to kill and overkill until the pain of what I felt was no longer making appearances in my psyche. It was why my father put me in boxing. His fear of what I might become. He wanted to provide me with something that would work on channeling my negative energy, the evil thoughts. Boxing served that purpose. And as I stood there tonight, the winner . . . and still undefeated champion . . . the love I felt for boxing was back.
Did I really want to retire? Was this the place that I belonged . . . in the ring? I was feeling like it was. I was feeling like I needed it. I was feeling as though it was truly the only therapy that would, or could, ever work for me. No amount of therapy could give me the resolve that being in the ring could.
I knew that while decisions needed to be made, there were some pressing issues that I had to tend to, immediately: Hiring a full staff for our home, that included a chef and full-time housekeepers. Security was going to be a must, whether Chanel and Rai wanted it or not. A lot was going to change; because above all, my primary focus was on protecting the family.
Priorities were shifting, as I stood there, holding my belt over my head with pride.
“The winner, by technical knockout . . . and still undefeated champion . . . Dario “D.C.” Caivano!”
My knees felt weak. In that moment, I was no longer captive, as I had been for the past few weeks. I was in the now. My head was free and clear. I could feel—everything. And due to the presence of that emotion, it didn’t surprise me at all that tears were burning behind the lids of my eyes. Tears of strength. Tears of victory. Tears of validation . . .
“You with me, son?” my father asked, seated beside me. He snapped his fingers in front of me, and asked, “Where’d you go?”
I quickly shook off the earlier thoughts of victory, and joined the conversation with my father. He had come to get me, a little while after the fight.
“I’m here, Papà. I was just relaxing. Guess I got a little too relaxed.” I released a light laugh. “I haven’t really rested in weeks, and leading up to this fight. So, my brain is tryin’ to check out on us.”
“I understand that. And you knocked that loud-mouth fucker out in the second round, too. Good for his ass. I thought you were gonna take him out as soon as the first bell sounded. But I know you,” he smiled. “You wanted to play with your prey a little longer to give your fans a treat.”
“Man, you know me so well!” I exclaimed to my father, coming alive and into the moment. “I wanted to humiliate him in the worst way. Shutting him down in the first round would’ve done that. But I’ll take the second.”
“Oh, son, not to worry, his career is over. Sure, he’ll get a hefty check for this, but I’d suggest he invest the fuck outta that money.”
I looked around, noticing that we’d left the bright lights of the city a while back.
“Papà, where are we goin’?”
“Give me a few minutes, and you’ll see.”
A ‘few minutes’, turned out to be another 30, when we finally pulled into a long driveway that sat out of the street’s view.
“Are we still even in Vegas? Who do you even know out here?”
My father exited the vehicle and signaled for me to do the same. Before we made it to the front door of the small residence, a large dude with a beard, wearing overalls, appeared. I almost laughed at first, because who even dressed like that?
“Son, this is my friend, Julian.”
Julian stuck his larger than life hand out to shake mine. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Dario. I’m a fan. Your father and I go way back.”
“It’s nice to meet you as well. I’m honored that you follow the sport.”
“Follow me . . .” he told us, leading us around the side of his house and down a short hill.
I didn’t know what the fuck my father was thinking, but this shit was eerie as fuck. However, since disrespecting my father wasn’t a part of my DNA, I went along. After about a three-minute trek, we walked up 15 stairs into a place that looked like a warehouse on the outside. After opening the first door, Julian keyed in a few numbers on a panel board, just inside the door. When he closed the door behind us, he tapped in more keys on the same pad.
“Umm, Papà . . .” I finally said. “What is this place?”
No sooner than I asked, we entered a larger space that housed machinery everywhere. I’d been around enough to know that this was some kind of drug lab. The equipment was top of the line, made of pristine metal. There were glass rooms on a lower floor, as well as the floor that we were on; each one occupied by individuals in lab coats and goggles, doing their own thing. The place was amazing, and looked nothing like it was a part of the house we pulled up to.
Another 10-minute walk past the lab, we got to the end of a hallway and walked down five stairs. At the bottom was yet another door. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on. A part of me was annoyed about being in the dark, but another part of me was curious about why we were there. My father still hadn’t responded to my question and I was about to ask, again, when Julian turned the handle to the door.
When it opened and I was able to see inside, my mouth fell open. I was immobile. Literally could not move. I was in shock. By the time I looked from my father to Julian, they were both staring at me. I knew that they immediately read the look on my face. They might’ve even heard my heart beating like an oncoming tornado.
“I won’t be long, my friend,” my father said to Julian.
“Take all the time you need,” Julian said, patting my
father on the back. Then Julian addressed me, saying, Dario, this has been a longtime coming, son.”
“I agree . . .” was my response.
After Julian left the room, it was just me, my father, and . . . Dexter Jackson.
CHAPTER 81
Ace “Hit Man” Wilder
Ace was out of it.
Several things had him that way. He’d just gone out in the second round of a fight with somebody he had talked a lot of shit about, over the last few months. He’d instigated a fight, got that fight, told anybody that would listen he was walking away the winner . . . but then lost. Lost big. Humiliation was wearing him like a finely tailored suit. It was a defeat that he wouldn’t live down anytime soon. He would be the laughing stock of the boxing world. Nobody would take him seriously. He knew the “L” he’d just taken and he knew that there would be no rebounding from it either.
But if only they knew the real. If only they knew . . .
But who could Ace tell? There wouldn’t be a person alive he could tell his suspicions to, because then he would have to admit to participating in kidnapping. He would have to confess to setting up another boxer so that he could get him out of the way. He would end up right where his brother was, and that couldn’t happen because he needed to right all his wrongs when his little brother touched down and re-entered society. He had already failed his brother once and couldn’t do it again. He wouldn’t do it again.
Ace was about to head to his hotel room when his cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He looked down and saw that it was from an “Unknown” number and smiled. He pressed the accept key and heard, “This call will be recorded and monitored. I have a collect call from . . . Jakoby . . .”
Ace breathed a huge sigh of relief as he accepted the call.
Thank God! he said in silence.
“Aye, big bro!” Jakoby exclaimed, through the other end of the line. “What’s goin’ on wit’ ya?”
“Aww, man, I’m good. Happy to hear from you, though. You good?” Ace asked him.
“I’m solid. Shit been okay in here. Not as bad as before.”
“Man, you don’t know how happy I am to hear that. I was worried . . .”
Ace’s voice trailed off. He didn’t want his brother to hear any signs of distress in his voice. He didn’t want him to know that he had called the prison earlier to check for activity on his PFN number. Jakoby had enough to worry about. As much of a man as Ace was, he almost came to tears. As far as he was concerned, there should never have been this kind of distance between him and the only living relative he had left. But thankfully, he was in a position to do something about that.
“I heard about the fight, bruh,” Jakoby acknowledged, followed by a long pause. “Muthafuckas was talkin’ shit, of course, but like I told them—”
“Don’t be in there fightin’ my battles, J. I don’t want you doin’ that. I need you safe and sound. Those types of fools you won’t even have to deal with in a year. So, don’t pay them no mind now. You hear me?”
“It’s just not in me, not to defend my brother.”
“And I get that. But we good over here. I lost my shit. But I can take all the heat, as long as I can do what I’m s’posed to do for you.”
“If it wasn’t for my stupidity, you wouldn’t even—”
“Don’t go there. Let that go. We live and we learn. So, what you learnin’ up in there? Tell me about that.”
“Okay, don’t laugh. But I think I’ma write a book.”
“A book?” Ace quizzed. “About what?”
“One of them urban novels. I think I can do it. I’ve been reading a few of them, while I’ve been down, and it’s some good shit. Mine’ll be better, though!” he laughed.
“Well, damn. Okay. Do that. Let me know what you need from me, and I got you.”
“Real talk? You don’t think it’s crazy?”
“Hell nah! I think that’s tight. I’m glad you wan—”
In the middle of Ace’s response, the recording came on reminding him that their 15 minutes were up.
“Alright, Ace,” Jakoby said. “They’re about to cut us off. Luh you, man.”
“Back at you, kid . . .”
Now, back at his hotel, Ace stepped off the elevators and headed to his suite. He wanted out of Vegas and didn’t know why he stayed the night instead of hopping on a red-eye flight back home. He hadn’t arranged for pussy, or head, so what was the reason to stay at all? But whatever, he thought. He would just kick back until he got sleepy and then get the fuck out in the morning and head home.
“Nah . . .” Ace said to himself. “If I’m stayin’ out here for the night, I’m gettin’ me some ass.”
Before he reached his door, Ace stopped to dial the number of the escort service that he and Dex used. While the phone was ringing, Ace heard, “What’s up, Ace?”
Ace’s initial thought was that it was some fan wanting to get an autograph, but when he spun around, a fan is not what he was met with. Instead, he came face to face with the business end of a shiny, silver Glock.
“Aww shit,” Ace said under his breath.
“Aww shit, is right,” Shane Michaels laughed. “I told you that would see me. Too bad I’m gonna be the last person you do see . . .”
CHAPTER 82
Dario
“Well, well, well. What the fuck is this?” Dex dragged, sounding exhausted. “Some kind of father/son ritual where you bring him to make his first kill? Huh? Is that what this is? Because if it is, just get that shit over with!” he yelled.
My father looked at me, and together we began laughing hysterically.
“He’s cranky, son,” my father teased. “What happened, Dex? Rough flight? I mean, we flew you out private.”
“Fuck you!” Dex screamed.
I couldn’t believe where I was. I couldn’t believe the gift my father had given me. It was better than anything I could’ve asked for. I was in the presence of the man that I’d dreamed of killing for weeks now! I hadn’t pressed my father about where this fucking scum was. I wanted to, but didn’t. Wanted to know how he died, where he died, at whose hands, and where the fuck the corpse was. However, the only conversations we had engaged in around this person was when I thanked my father for bringing Chanel home and he said, “No need to thank me, son. Whatever I had to do was for family. I’ll never need thanks for that.”
So, for all I knew, my father had already done away with this person. But I was so glad that he hadn’t, because now I could. The high was better than sex. Better than an orgasm or the best head. It was everything that euphoria was made of.
I approached Dex, and looking in his eyes, I saw what he was made of—all monster. The man carried no emotions. Didn’t have the gene in him.
“Fuck you lookin’ at?” he shot.
“At a fuckin’ coward. That’s what the fuck I’m lookin’ at.”
“Cut me loose, punk. I’ll show you just how much coward I got in me.”
“All you needed to do was ask.”
Immediately after my victory, I had showered and freshened up. So, not only was I clean, I was dressed in slacks, a button-down, and a fedora—at Chanel’s request. How I was going to explain looking a mess to her when I got back, was lost on me. I couldn’t worry about that, though. I’d deal with that when the time came. What I had to do here was much more important.
“Son . . .” my father called out, brandishing a gun that I didn’t even know he had on him. “You don’t have to get your hands dirty on this piece of shit.” He waved the piece. “Come get this.”
“Oh, I wanna do this, Papà. I need my hands on him, just like he had his people put their hands on Chanel. It’s the only way I’ll feel this in my soul.”
“Understood,” my father said, nodding his approval.
I hurriedly began removing everything, except for my boxer briefs. After handing everything to my father, I walked over to Dex and yanked off all his restraints. It took him a few seconds to stand and stretch.
I was prepared to give him all the time he needed.
“Come on. Let’s do it,” he said, squaring up. “I’m about this life all day long,” he boasted, jumping around like some kind of clown, looking like he’d always had a dream of being in the ring.
Done with all the talking, I took off. The first contact made was my fist, square in the middle of his mouth. It was the mouth that so much disrespect had poured from that day at Wayne’s, taunting me. I tried to split it the fuck open. Blood immediately poured from his mouth, and over his lips and chin. When his eyes began to water from the sting of the slug, I went for the finish. The next punch was a forceful one to his stomach, causing a few deep coughs to shoot from inside of him. To his credit, he did swing, but his punches were like air.
“Fight, bitch!” I teased. “You said you were about this life, right?! The fuck! Let’s do business!” I hollered at him, when I came down on my right leg, then shot my left foot into his chest cavity.
When he staggered backwards, I was right there to unleash! I rained a succession of jabs on his upper area and in his face. With each punch to his face, his blood rained on me. It’s what I wanted. His blood on my hands. I wanted that! Life was leaving him little by little. I saw it in his eyes. But it didn’t stop me. I couldn’t stop.
After he fell to the ground, I was on top of him. My right fist connected with his skull, in repetition. I blacked out. It didn’t matter that he was lifeless, that his blood covered me like a full outfit. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was dead. What mattered was that I was the one that got to take his life.
“Son!” I heard my father call out to me. “Dario!”
After realizing that my father was yelling, I ceased my assault on Dex’s deceased form, and crawled off of him. I sunk to the floor beside him, out of breath, and covered in red. I sat there in silence for a few minutes. First, it was Ace, and now him. True justice had been served, in my eyes. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Ace’s career was over, his ego was bruised. He was done. Dex was dead. I felt no type of remorse, only vindication. I never thought I would kill a man with my bare hands. I knew that there were times where I wanted to do just that. But honestly, didn’t know if I truly had it in me.
In the Ring 2 Page 29