Chapter 3 - FIRST, MAKE IT TO THE RINGBy eleven thirty, the briefcase was still on the floor.
Cole had not opened it again.
He called Hannah twice.
She reached home safely.
He told her only that someone connected to boxing was trying to intimidate him.
Hannah knew her brother.
“That means you’re going to do something stupid.”
“I’m fighting.”
“Exactly.”
“You want me to pull out?”
“I want you alive.”
Cole said nothing.
Hannah softened.
“Dad would tell you the same thing.”
Cole stared at the heavy bag.
“You didn’t know Dad.”
“I remember enough.”
“He was involved with Roman.”
Silence.
“What?”
Cole told her what Frank said.
Hannah listened.
Then whispered:
“Mom knew.”
Cole stopped.
“What?”
“She once said Dad’s career ended because somebody powerful made sure it did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought she meant a promoter.”
Cole closed his eyes.
Another secret.
“When?”
“After Dad’s funeral.”
Cole sat down.
“What else did she say?”
“That he kept something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Records maybe.”
Cole looked at Frank.
“Did Jack keep evidence?”
Frank heard the question.
His face changed.
“What?”
“Hannah says Dad kept records.”
Frank turned away.
Cole walked closer.
“You know.”
Frank sighed.
“Jack claimed he had proof the Calder fight was fixed.”
“Where?”
“He never told me.”
“Did Roman know?”
“Probably.”
Cole laughed bitterly.
“So maybe this isn’t about tomorrow.”
Frank looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe Roman thinks I have something.”
Frank’s eyes narrowed.
Before either could continue, someone knocked.
Three slow knocks.
They both froze.
Cole moved toward the door.
Frank whispered:
“Don’t.”
Cole opened it.
Nobody.
On the floor sat a white envelope.
Inside was a photocopy.
An old photograph.
Jack Maddox standing outside a Phoenix gym.
Beside him—
Roman Drake.
Younger.
No tattoos on his neck yet.
But unmistakable.
On the back, handwritten:
Your father made the same mistake.
Cole stared at it.
Frank whispered:
“Jesus.”
Under the photo was another message.
Don’t make us repeat history.
Cole’s anger became strangely calm.
Roman was not simply buying a fight.
He was reminding Cole that resistance had consequences.
Midnight arrived.
Cole’s phone rang.
Roman.
Cole answered.
“You’ve had time.”
“Take your money.”
Roman chuckled.
“I expected that.”
“Then why call?”
“To make sure you understand the offer has expired.”
“Good.”
“From now on, everything costs more.”
Cole’s jaw tightened.
“You threaten my sister again—”
Roman interrupted.
“I didn’t threaten anyone.”
“You sent a photo.”
“I send lots of photos.”
“You think hiding behind words makes you clever?”
Roman laughed.
“No. Staying out of prison makes me clever.”
Cole looked at Frank.
“What happened to my father?”
Silence.
Then Roman said:
“You should ask better questions.”
“Did you fix his fight?”
“Your father had opportunities.”
“He refused you.”
“Your father refused reality.”
Cole’s breathing slowed.
“And you ruined him.”
“No.”
Roman’s voice became colder.
“Jack ruined himself because he believed being right made him untouchable.”
Cole felt the words like a challenge.
“You sound scared of dead men.”
Roman stopped laughing.
“What did he leave you?”
There.
Cole had been right.
Roman cared about something from Jack.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not.”
Roman was silent for several seconds.
Then:
“Tomorrow night doesn’t have to become personal.”
“It already is.”
“No, Cole. You haven’t seen personal.”
The call ended.
Frank stared.
“He thinks you have Jack’s evidence.”
“Apparently.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
Cole immediately called Hannah again.
“Where are Dad’s things?”
“What things?”
“Anything from boxing.”
“Mom put boxes in storage.”
“Where?”
“Boulder City.”
Cole looked at the clock.
12:14 a.m.
Weigh-ins were complete.
Fight night began in less than twenty hours.
Frank read his expression.
“No.”
“I’m going.”
“Cole.”
“If there’s evidence, Roman wants it.”
“And if there isn’t?”
“Then we find out.”
Frank shook his head.
“This is exactly what he wants. You moving around Vegas in the middle of the night.”
Cole grabbed a hoodie.
“Then come with me.”
They left through the service entrance.
Frank drove.
Cole watched every car behind them.
At one intersection, a black SUV stayed two cars back.
Then disappeared.
Thirty minutes later they reached the storage facility.
Hannah met them there.
She was furious.
“You look insane.”
“Thank you.”
She hugged him anyway.
They opened the unit.
Boxes.
Furniture.
His father’s old tools.
A broken fan.
Christmas decorations.
Then Cole saw a red duffel bag.
Jack’s initials stitched into the side.
J.M.
Cole stopped.
He remembered that bag.
His father kept it on the top shelf of a closet when Cole was young.
Never allowed anyone to touch it.
Cole unzipped it.
Old wraps.
A mouthpiece.
Photographs.
Newspaper clippings.
Then a VHS tape.
Label:
CALDER — FULL.
Frank stared.
“That fight.”
Cole lifted another envelope.
Inside were handwritten betting slips.
Names.
Amounts.
Dates.
One name repeated.
R. Drake.
Hannah whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Cole looked deeper.
A small cassette recorder.
Another notebook.
His father had kept everything.
Frank sat on a box.
“This could be what Roman has been afraid of for twenty years.”
Cole stared at the evidence.
Then heard a vehicle outside.
Headlights swept beneath the storage door.
Frank immediately stood.
Hannah whispered:
“Cole.”
Another engine.
Then another.
Cole looked at the only entrance.
Roman had said:
First, make it to the ring.
Cole finally understood.
May you like
He was not talking about tomorrow.
The trip there had already begun.
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