Yay! Two review! Thanks for the interest – here's some more.

Chapter 2

Turkish made it all the way to his bed before the temporary sobriety gave into the dizziness that came with drinking the better half of a bottle of scotch. He fell onto his back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling until the spinning of the cracks became too much and he closed his eyes.

Two hours later he woke up to a splitting headache and feeling that something had crawled into his mouth and died. In the dark he groped for the lamp and flicked it on without thinking. The soft light seemed to pierce his aching brain and he switched it off with a muttered:

"Fuck me."

In the soothing dark he swung himself off the bed and gingerly stood up. Finding that he had balance, he took advantage of it, making his way to the bathroom where he turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up. Climbing in, he let the hot water stream over his lean frame while his mind wandered back in time.

FLASHBACK:

When he saw the diamond, Turk knew that his problems were just beginning. No one can just land that amount of dosh and not have problems hiding it. He and Tommy had a hundred discussions about what to do with it until they finally settled on buying a proper gym where maybe they could actually find a way into the legal world of boxing. But just like life – things didn't work out that way.

"But it smells." Whined Tommy as they walked around the main area of the empty building.

"Course it smells, it's a gym you ass." Snapped Turk as he breathed deep, savoring the aroma of stale sweat, old wood and damp mold.

"A dirty gym." Muttered Tommy, casting his eyes over the peeling walls and the stained floor. "I think that's blood over there."

Turk stopped and looked at the maroon stain that Tommy was pointing at. He gave a long-suffering sigh and turned to his partner.

"Tommy, what did we do after every match we had in the underground lot?"

"We counted the money or stitched up gorgeous George – depending on which way the match went." Replied the younger man.

"Right. What did Splashy do?"

Splashy was the name that they had given to the bloke that washed the blood off the fighters and the ring when they were done. He had disappeared when Brick Top had bit it, never to be seen again.

"He washed the ring." Said Tommy slowly, understanding dawning at last.

"Okay, so tell me why you have a problem with that stain then?" asked Turk, actually dreading the reply.

"Well, y'dunno whose blood it is do you?" said Tommy primly.

Turkish rolled his eyes, clenching and unclenching his hands while fighting off the urge to hit Tommy. Eventually he settled down, turned his back on the shorter man and stepped over to the tall blonde man waiting by the door.

"We'll take it."

"Ah, das good ja?" asked the blonde man in a thick German accent. "We go do the papers now."

So before they could say pikey – they were the proud owners of a six year lease with Hans Krieger, whose ownership of property extended right past the London city limits.

After Hans had left, Tommy and Turk sat in the ring, quietly surveying their little kingdom and wondering what the hell they had gotten themselves into now.

"I don't trust him." Said Tommy emphatically, shaking his head.

"So you've said." Sighed Turk. "About a hundred times now."

"I just want you to know how serious I mean this – I don't…"

"Trust him." Turk finished Tommy's sentence and then added:

"Yeah I get it Tommy, he's not exactly at the top of my Christmas list either okay? Now are we going to sit here and bitch about the new landlord or are we going down to the pub and have a celebratory pint eh?"

"Okay Turk. Pint it is then."

Carefully locking the door behind them, the two left the gym and walked down the street to the pub.

The days after that ran together in a montage of activity. Gorgeous was soon out of hospital and back in the training ring. Turk had to find the sparring partners and potential new talent and to his surprise, Tommy was handling the bookish end of things. Turned out, the little man had a talent for figures.

For the first time in their lives, Turk and Tommy were handling genuine fights, for good money and a better reputation. Not those horrid little fights that they used to have in dark lots and empty warehouses. And the best thing of all was no Brick Top muscling in on them and ordering fight results at his leisure.

"It never lasts." Muttered Turk, back in the present. He had finished in the shower and was toweling off with a bit more force than necessary. Chucking the damp towel over the rail, he stalked to the bedroom to put some clothes on.

FLASHBACK:

The pair had been running the gym for almost seven months when things decided to take their natural course and go decidedly pear shaped.

It started when he noticed a boy of about ten years old hanging around the gym, watching the training. He had tried to run him off but the little tyke kept coming back from various angles and secret hiding places. Eventually Turk decided to give him a job – as a sweeper.

In the weeks that followed he managed to gather that boy's name was Eddie and that he lived with his five other siblings. The seventh member of their household was his oldest sister – Bethany, who according to him, was doing a bang up job of keeping them all together since their folks died.

He remembered a snatch of conversation that he'd had while they were closing up one night.

"Your sister know where you are at night?"

Eddie slid the broom across the floor with strict concentration and pretended not to hear the question. Turk narrowed his eyes and stopped the broom with his foot, forcing the youngster to look up at him.

"She hasn't got a clue has she?"

Shamefaced, Eddie shook his head and looked at the floor. A dull redness climbed from underneath his collar to climb up his neck and spread across his face. Then he looked up and Turk and pleaded:

"Please don't tell 'er. She'd be ever so angry with me."

"Why? You're not cutting school to come here are you?"

"No. It's just…"

He trailed away into silence and Turk wondered if there was something wrong at home. Then he wondered why the fuck he cared.

"Just what Eddie?" he asked, getting impatient.

It took Eddie two tries to get the sentence out but eventually he whispered:

"She works to give us kids everythin' an we wanted to get her somethin nice is all."

Turk nearly laughed at the simplicity of it all but then smothered the urge, remembering that a young boy's pride was a prickly thing indeed.

"You'd better get back to work then, if you want to get something nice for your sister."

He left him to his sweeping and went into the office where Tommy was busy with the previous night's takings.

Turk had finished dressing when he realized that he was not going back to sleep. So he padded into the kitchen to make himself a cuppa. While waiting for the kettle, he thought about the first time he had met Bethany.

FLASHBACK

Eddie was just about finished with the main floor and was just about to start on the office when he heard a banging at the door and the one voice he had hoped never to hear within the gym's walls.

"Open up you lot, I want my brother!"

He acted on impulse and darted into Turk's office, wedging himself under the desk. He knew that Bethany wouldn't lift a hand to him, only look at him with those eyes and they were worse than a thousand scoldings or spankings.

Turk was sitting with Tommy and they looked at each other then stood up and made their way to the door, where the voice was calling:

"Don't make me break this lock out!"

With a small frown, Tommy carefully unlocked the door and slowly started to open it, when the person on the other side pushed it into him, whereupon he promptly lost his balance and his wind and sat on the floor wheezing.

Bethany strode through the doorway, her heart pounding with fear for her brother. Although this area wasn't a complete slum, it still wasn't a place for a ten-year-old boy to be wandering at night. Ignoring the breathless noises from behind her, she stomped up to the man in front of her and waited.

Turkish nearly took a step backwards when the young woman stalked right up to him. It had been a long time since he'd seen a woman that was as tall as what he was and when the aforementioned woman was carrying a tire iron with murder in her eyes, caution wasn't a bad idea.

Bethany looked into the brown eyes that were on the same level as her own and hoped that her fear was still hidden. Although they were warm, they radiated a subtle menace that she had never seen before, not even in the cage. Tightening her grip on the tire iron, she stepped a bit closer and said in a low tone:

"Where is he?"