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Chapter 1 (Ricardo)
He trapped me again. I thought I was free of him, I should have known he had one more trick up his sleeve.
I thought I lucked out when he didn't bother showing up during my last fight.
I hopped on a plane and got the fuck out of New York, but he eventually ended up tracking me down in Houston.
I was there for almost a full year and I was enjoying my freedom.
But my freedom came with a catch.
Because being in the fight club had hardened me in a way I never expected it to. It brought my darkness to the surface.
It made me more like DeLuca than I ever wanted to be.
For 10 years straight, I watched while strong men failed and dropped like flies.
Death was like a poisonous fog that loomed all around me...but still, I fought.
Sometimes I used what happened to Graham to get through the fight.
Sometimes I used what happened to that poor little girl.
Sometimes I used watching my mother die.
But every time I used my hatred for DeLuca to push through when I felt like I wouldn't make it.
At the end of my 10 years, I was the only one left standing.
Everyone else had died. DeLuca made sure of it.
A big part of me wondered if that had been his intention all along, to ensure no one completed their deal.
No one except for me. In the back of my mind, I wondered if he did that on purpose, but I didn't want to believe it.
I earned my fucking freedom. The bastard could kiss my ass as far as I was concerned.
A deal was a fucking deal.
No matter how much someplace deep inside me missed that club. Missed pushing myself further and harder than I ever thought was possible.
Missed feeling the sense of power and control in the cage. Missed letting the darkness roam free and burn through me.
Missed being a DeLuca.
Fucking hell.
I'd never forget the conversation with DeLuca after he tracked me down in Houston.
I was working in a small shop that I purchased with some of the money that I saved from fighting.
I glanced down at a pair of metal tipped shoes and my anger bubbled through me. “I see you bought that mustang after all,” he said.
I glared at him from under the hood. “Yup.”
Take that, fucker.
“I suppose I can admire that.”
I snorted. “I don't need or want your admiration, DeLuca. Now get the fuck out of my shop before I put a few bullets in your chest.”
“Well, I'll be damned. You are like me after all.”
I threw the wrench on the ground. “You really want to have this conversation with me again?”
He looked around the shop. “You know, you're almost 30 now, son. And this is all you have amounted to. A fucking mechanic.”
“I could have amounted to more had my asshole father not saw fit to make me drop out of school. Not that there's anything wrong with being a mechanic. Unlike what you do, it's an honest and noble profession.”
“But it's not where your heart is at, son.”
“Fuck my heart. I don't need it. Just like I don't need you. Now, leave before I make you.”
“I have a proposition for you.”
“Not interested.”
He didn't seem to care because he said, “I'm having a problem at the club.”
I hated how my ears perked up at the mention of the club.
He smiled, because he knew it. “Business is going down...I can't seem to keep any of my fighters for more than a few months at a time. They're all weak. People don't want to place bids anymore because they're not sure if they'll be back the next week.”
I glared at him. “Well, maybe if you didn't keep setting the fighters up to die in the cage...you wouldn't have that problem.” I sighed. “And from a business standpoint, people want to bet on a sure thing. Despite its underground nature, people like to have favorites, fighters they can root for. But in order to do that, you need to keep them around for more than a few months. That's the only way you'll ever increase revenue.”
“You have a point.”
I had to stop myself from looking at him in shock. I also had to stop myself from acknowledging the small pang I felt when he praised me.
He peered over my toolbox. “I've just taken on two new fighters. Two great fighters actually. Tyrone Davis and Jackson Reid.”
I shrugged. “Never heard of them.”
He chuckled. “No, you wouldn't have. Seeing as I just bailed them both out of jail. Tyrone was i “Sounds like he's right up your alley then.” “He killed the man who murdered his sister. And the man who beat his sister to death happened to be a professional MMA fighter.” I wiped my hands on the rag beside me. “Sounds like he never should have been in jail to begin with.” He waved a hand. “Doesn't make a difference to me. But...they both have serious potential. Potential I haven't seen since―” He paused. “Well, you.” I smirked before I repeated his words, “Doesn't make a difference to me.” “It should.” I leaned against my mustang and lit a cigarette. “Why's that?” “I think if you trained them. You might―” He paused appearing to choose his next words carefully. “You might be the very thing to save their life.” I stayed silent trying not to let his words affect me. He knew my kryptonite. I hated watching people that didn't deserve to...die. I saw plenty of that over the last ten years. But even though I was surrounded by death in that club...l still loved fighting and motivating myself to make it to the next level. Hell, I loved that club...it was like home to me. It was the only place I felt like I ever really belonged―the only place I had control over my life. The place where I fought and earned my control and power...it wasn't just handed to me because I was DeLuca's son. Shit, if he threw in a beautiful broad he'd have all three of my weaknesses at his disposal. “Perhaps, I'll even change the way the fight club runs,” he gritted through his teeth. “Not right away, but in a few years. If you agree to train Jackson and Tyrone.” I ignored him and took another drag off my cigarette before slamming the hood down on the mustang. When I still didn't answer him, he said, “Maybe I'll turn it all over to you one day. I know you love that club, son.” I could feel myself giving in but I didn't open my mouth just yet. “You'll be the one in charge―for the most part, Ricardo. I won't ever step foot inside that club again. I'll just set up a video surveillance so I'll be able to watch every fight.” He took a step forward. “ Of course, it is still my club right now, so you'll have to run most things through me, but I won't interfere with your training and I'll let you have a say in any and all final decisions regarding the club.” “What's your game plan, DeLuca? What are you hoping to accomplish by all of this?” “Honestly?” “Yeah, that would be nice for a change.”