Chapter 2 - My Brother’s Name
Marcus met me in a private airport office forty minutes later.
He looked like he had aged five years during the flight.
Thirty-nine.
Gray beginning at his temples.
Suit jacket over a Carter Boxing T-shirt.
He reached for me.
I stepped back.
He stopped.
“What?”
I shut the door.
“Who is Mason Pike?”
His face changed.
Tiny.
Enough.
“You know him.”
Marcus looked toward my attorney, Elise Warren.
Elise folded her arms.
“Answer her.”
Marcus sat.
“Mason works for a sports-reputation firm.”
“Which one?”
“Beacon Strategies.”
“Did you hire them?”
Pause.
“Yes.”
My mouth went dry.
Coach Darnell swore softly.
Marcus raised both hands.
“Not for this.”
“What did you hire them for?”
“Opposition monitoring.”
I laughed.
“What does that mean?”
“Our opponent’s team has been spreading rumors about your medical history.”
My title challenger, Sofia Markovic.
Croatian-American.
Twenty-seven.
Undefeated.
Dangerous.
Also professional.
I had never heard her camp attack my health.
Marcus continued.
“Beacon monitors media threats.”
“And Mason?”
“One of their contractors.”
“Why was he on my flight?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did his phone show your name?”
“Because I communicate with Beacon.”
Elise interrupted.
“Do you communicate directly with Pike?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Sometimes.”
I stared.
“How many times this week?”
“I’d have to check.”
“Check.”
He pulled out his phone.
My brother had managed my career for nine years.
We grew up in East Baltimore.
Our father disappeared when I was eleven.
Our mother, Denise Carter, worked hospital billing during the day and cleaned offices at night.
Marcus became the man of the house before he was old enough to shave.
When I started boxing at sixteen, he drove me to the gym.
When Mom died from pancreatic cancer, he negotiated my first serious contract while barely sleeping.
I trusted him more than anyone alive.
That was exactly why seeing my name on Pike’s screen hurt so much.
Marcus searched.
“Five calls.”
“In how long?”
“Three weeks.”
“Yesterday?”
“Yes.”
My heart tightened.
“What time?”
He looked.
“9:44 p.m.”
My flight left Vegas at 7:10 this morning.
“What did you discuss?”
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
“A leak.”
“What leak?”
“Beacon said someone planned to provoke you publicly.”
Silence.
“You knew?”
“Not specifically.”
“You knew someone might provoke me?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t want you paranoid before the flight.”
Darnell laughed bitterly.
“You let her board alone.”
Marcus snapped:
“She always boards alone!”
I stood.
“Who was behind the warning?”
“Beacon wouldn’t say.”
“Then why trust them?”
“Because we paid them fifty thousand dollars.”
There it was.
Money.
Not enough for this scale.
Enough for secrecy.
Elise asked:
“Did Beacon say Pike would be present?”
“No.”
“Did they say anything about Daley?”
“No.”
“Do you know Daley?”
“No.”
I believed that part.
Maybe.
Then Marcus said:
“Imani, I did not arrange that.”
I looked at him.
“You arranged the people who were watching for it.”
“Yes.”
“That’s not better.”
His face broke.
“I was trying to protect you.”
I hated that sentence.
People use it when they decide your right to know is less important than their idea of your safety.
Darnell placed one hand on my shoulder.
“Let facts come.”
He was right.
Airport police had Pike’s phone.
Federal aviation authorities might become involved depending on evidence.
The airline had video from the cabin.
Thirty passengers had recordings.
Nobody needed us inventing conspiracies.
Then Elise received an email.
She read it.
Stopped.
“What?”
“Pike consented to initial questioning.”
“And?”
She looked at Marcus.
“He says Beacon was hired to create the incident.”
Marcus stood.
“That’s a lie.”
“By whom?”
Elise continued reading.
“Pike says the directive came through Beacon executive Caleb Ross.”
Marcus knew the name.
His face confirmed it.
“And Ross told Pike the client wanted a disciplinary incident severe enough to delay the title fight.”
“Which client?”
Elise swallowed.
“Carter Sports Management.”
That was Marcus’s company.
My brother’s company.
My career.
I stared at him.
Marcus whispered:
“I didn’t authorize that.”
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Maybe.
But someone inside the business built around my name had just paid to have me publicly humiliated.
