Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
“Why the fuck do you smell like moth balls?” Ace growled.
His new associate flinched like Ace had bucked at him. “Uh… I—I got a new cologne sir,” the man stuttered.
Ace shook his head. “You need to get your money back. Don’t wear that shit around me again. Matter of fact, get out my face, I’ll email you.”
When the associate stayed frozen in his seat, Ace bucked at him then. “Go!”
He scrambled out of his seat and gathered his belongings before leaving Ace’s office at a near sprint.
Ace rose from his desk and went over to his bar.
The past 24 hours since Joy had been gone made him understand Jrue more and more. Drinking scotch at noon was the only thing that numbed the cocktail of rage and sadness that stuck to him.
Joy had reached into his chest and snatched out his heart, taking it with her back to Houston. He’d been stumbling around for a day, bleeding out with a hole in his chest where she belonged.
He picked up one of the already used glasses, going through them faster than his staff could come in and clean them, and poured himself two fingers. He lifted the glass to his lips but paused halfway when he spotted the deep red stain in the shape of lips at the rim.
Joy’s lips.
Ace’s chest ached as he stared at it.
He squeezed the tumbler so hard, cheaper drinkware would’ve shattered. When it didn't, he chucked it against the wall with a roar, making the crystal shatter into hundreds of pieces and single malt scotch stain his walls and floor.
The destruction didn’t make him feel better like he’d thought, so he threw another glass, then another until the floor was littered with pieces and the only way to achieve his original goal was to drink directly from the bottle.
And he did. Heaving, with a heavy heart, he chugged the liquor, welcoming the burn. He’d welcome any external pain that would dumb the one he felt in his chest.
“Mr. King is everything o?—”
“Get out!” Ace yelled without looking back at Jess.
She squeaked out a shocked gasp then retreated, slamming the door behind her.
Good, Ace thought.
It was time he remembered who he was. Joy had fucked with his mind, making him think he was someone worthy of loving. Introducing him to something he hadn’t even known he’d wanted, then snatching it away like a thief in the night.
He couldn’t blame her though. She'd warned him from the start that she wasn’t good for him. He’d ignored her and every bright red flag she threw up, thinking he could save her the way she’d saved him.
Ace was man enough to admit when he was wrong.
He wasn’t sure how long he drank and threw things.
All he knew was that when the door to his office opened again, he looked up and the room was dark, the sun having left him just as she had.
Various sets of footsteps crunched atop the broken glass and rustled discarded papers but Ace didn’t move, instead clinging to the nearly empty decanter of liquor and his lighter like they were his life rafts.
“Damn, did a tornado hit this bitch?” Von asked.
“Shut the fuck up,” Jrue hissed.
“What? I’m just saying, this motherfucka is tore up.”
“Shut up fool,” April smacked her lips. “Ace… Are you okay, brother?” she asked in a soft voice, moving towards him slowly like she was approaching a wounded wild animal.
Ace couldn’t move his head or open his mouth to speak. He was successful in numbing his body but his heart and mind still cried out in pain that hurt worse than any training he’d endured.
“Ace…” August called to him when he didn’t answer.
Ace opened his mouth tentatively, like he was trying to make sure the command would translate from his brain to the muscles in his jaw.
He licked his dry lips, his eyes trained on the chair across from his desk.
If he squinted hard enough, he could almost see her sitting there.
One leg crossed over the other. Curls falling over her shoulders as she pored over a case.
“She left me,” he managed with a croak.
“Here man. Drink some water,” Jrue told him, one hand on Ace’s shoulder, the other shoving a bottle of water in his face.
“I don’t want water,” Ace grumbled, sounding bratty even to his own ears.
“You need to drink some water, man,” Jrue urged him.
“Yeah cause you drunk as a skunk right now,” Von co-signed.
“I’m about to put you out nigga,” April snapped. “You’re not helping.”
Ace snatched the water bottle from Jrue. He gulped it down, if for no other reason than to cure the desert in his mouth and get them all to shut up.
He cleared his throat once he’d guzzled the whole bottle. “I’m fine,” he said, clearing his throat and blinking away the blurriness in his vision. “I’m good. Y’all can go.”
“We’re not gonna leave you like this,” April protested. “What can we do to help?”
Ace shook his head, stepping over an overturned chair to get to the couch by the window. “What time is it?”
Jrue looked down at his watch. “7:53.”
He lowered himself slowly into a reclining position. “Wake me up at 9:30. I have a Council meeting tonight,” he slurred.
“Ace, you can’t go to that meeting like this,” August protested.
“Wake me up at 9:30,” Ace demanded again. His lips felt too numb to argue.
He closed his eyes, ignoring the way it made the room spin and laid his head on the throw pillow. It smelled like Joy’s hair products, bringing her image into his mind. Instead of pushing it away, he embraced it, letting it help lull him to sleep.
Ace chugged the cup of coffee Jrue had procured for him as he walked into the Lion Lounge. His cat nap had done little to sober him up but he was lucid and could now speak without slurring which was all that mattered.
Jrue and Von walked in step with him, hovering like concerned mothers.
“You want me to speak for you?” Jrue asked.
Ace gulped down another mouthful of tepid coffee. “I want you to shut up. I got this.”
Jrue sighed but didn’t argue. “Aight man, you got it.”
“I know I do,” Ace snapped back. He needed an object for all of his rage and with Joy and Isaac both in the wind, his little brother was the closest target.
“Nigga, I know you’re heartbroken and shit, but don’t get crazy. I’m just trying to help you.”
“I don't need your fucking help!” Ace hissed. “If you want to help me, find Isaac so I can watch the life drain from his eyes.”
With that, Ace pushed through the door, entering the room filled with the entirety of the Council.
Cigar smoke filled the top level of the lounge, creating a hazy film over the room that made Ace have to focus to wade through it.
He approached the large table, around it sat the active leaders of the Council families and their underbosses and advisors sitting beside and behind them with stone faces.
Salvatore De Leone, Delroy Toussaint, and Zachariah King, the only living elders of the Council, sat at the two heads and middle of the table to preside over the meeting.
Ace gave each elder a slight incline of his head in respect, but was only half present as he greeted the rest of the Council.
His mind kept drifting to Isaac, wondering what he’d missed. Isaac had always been hot headed and flashy but to put a hit out on Ace was a new level — even for him. To try to take the organization down was a level of betrayal that no amount of blood ties could excuse.
Ace’s eyes moved over to Gerald, and he wondered if the elder Kincaid knew what his son was up to.
Isaac had said that they both wanted a more active role in the organization. Had they been in cahoots to take Ace and his siblings down when Ace denied the initial request?
His mind raced, the alcohol still lingering in his blood stream did nothing to calm him. If anything, it made his theories more heinous and his anger more potent.
“King, you called this emergency meeting,” Salvatore spoke first to begin the meeting.
“I did,” Ace replied, his voice clear.
“The floor is yours,” Zachariah waved him on. Ace made eye contact with his grandfather and with a slight, resigned nod, Zachariah gave his final blessing.
Ace nodded, then turned to make eye contact with the rest of the elders.
“I’m requesting authorization to execute a member of a Council family.”
The room stilled as everyone looked around. The rule had been put in place at the Council’s inception but it hadn't been used in generations.
“Who?” Delroy asked.
“Isaac Kincaid.”
Shocked conversation erupted around the table but they were all muffled by Gerald’s shout of outrage.
“Everyone please calm down,” Delroy boomed, quieting the room. “Have a seat Kincaid.”
“Like hell I will! On what grounds?” He aimed his question to Ace.
“He put a hit out on me and worked with law enforcement to sabotage our operations— violating not one, but two Council laws,” Ace answered.
“Bullshit!” he spat.
“Those are big accusations, King. I hope you came with proof to back it up,” Andre Reyes said.
Ace stood and Jrue silently handed over four identical thick folders.
Ace slid one in front of each elder, then slapped the final one on the oak table in front of Gerald.
Each folder included the extensive proof they’d been able to gather, starting with text messages commandeered from the phones of men no longer in the land of the living, and ending with bank transfers linked to Kincaid Corp.
Security footage of Isaac meeting with Marco.
Shipment manifests that were accessed by his IP address.
Transcripts of the anonymous calls he made to the police station.
The only thing that could be heard was the flipping of pages and mumbled rebukes as the files made their rounds.
“Unacceptable.”
“What a fucking disgrace.“
“If you don’t take him out I will.”
“He jeopardized our entire network.”
“This...This is fake, he didn’t do this,” Gerald protested but the ire in his voice from earlier had long dissipated.
“I assure you, it’s very real,” Ace confirmed. “Maybe he should be here to defend himself. Where is he?”
“He… I… I haven’t seen him in days.”
“Interesting. Does he often disappear without notice or is it only when he’s running? I’ve already killed the men he worked with, surely he knows he’s next.”
“This is all circumstantial,” Gerald spluttered.
Ace shrugged as he relaxed in his seat, a headache setting in. “Individually, maybe. But combined, this paints the picture of a conspiracy that dates back months.”
Delroy closed his folder and sat back. “The evidence is damning, Kincaid, and he’s the only one who can dispute it. Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” Gerald repeated through gritted teeth.
“You don’t know or you won’t say?” Salvatore asked through narrowed eyes.
“I said I don’t fucking know! Look, clearly he was unsuccessful in whatever he was trying to do and everything is fine. Can we just let this go?”
“This Council has already extended Isaac an abundance of grace,” Alfonso Reyes said.
“He’s on thin fucking ice with me after that incident with one of my girls at the club,” Andre Reyes chimed in with his father from his spot on the wall.
“He was drunk!” Gerald protested.
“Oh please Gerald. I get drunk every weekend and I’ve never slapped around a stripper,” Leonardo De Leone spoke up from beside his father, glaring at Gerald.
No one at the table wanted to say it, but this was precisely the reason Isaac acted the way he did. Gerald constantly cleaned up his messes and made excuses for his vile behavior, making him become entitled and reckless.
“Successful or not, this stunt created a lot of police attention. He literally snitched on his own men,” Salvatore noted, motioning to the folder.
“It’s been contained,” Gerald said.
“That doesn’t make it excusable, Gerald, and you know that. Once you’re on their radar, there’s no telling what will happen. One family on the radar means risk for everyone,” Zachariah spoke up for the first time.
Gerald sighed, and Ace could see the defeat and acceptance in his expression. “Why not exile him?”
The Council’s laws were very clear. Working with law enforcement and assassination attempts were immediate grounds for execution.
“He’s already proven he’ll sacrifice this Council, his organization and anyone in it for his ambition,” Salvatore shook his head.
Gerald gulped, his throat bobbing as he fought emotion. “You can’t leave me without an heir,” he croaked.
“You have another son,” Ace noted. “Your oldest from your first marriage.”
Gerald glared at the mention of the son that wanted nothing to do with him and hadn’t been seen in almost 20 years.
“Yes, but he?—”
“Are we ready to vote?” Ace cut him off. He was done bargaining and the slight throb in his head was becoming stronger by the minute.
“Let’s put it to a vote,” Salvatore said. “All in favor of approving King’s request?”
Hands went up around the room with only Gerald’s hands at his sides, red faced.
“That’s settled then. Kincaid, your son has 48 hours to plead his case and clear this up, otherwise the decision stands,” Delroy Toussaint reminded him.
“Pops, are you going to allow this?” Gerald asked, turning to Zachariah in a last ditch effort.
“This is your doing,” Zachariah said, pointing a finger at him.
“You let that boy get away with murder from the moment he was born and now he’s gone too far.
Please don’t think that my loyalty to your father will ever outweigh my love for my grandchildren, and the stability of the empire we built together. ”
With that, he stood, prompting the other elders, then their heirs to stand as well.
Ace rose from his seat, and Von and Jrue walked to stand beside him. They moved to the door, passing a dejected Gerald on the way out.
Ace paused in front of him, leaning in close to speak only for his ears. “If I find out you were in on this with him, you’ll join your seed in hell,” Ace promised through gritted teeth.
He brushed past him, speaking to his peers on the way out. “You gentlemen have a good evening.”