A/N: Thanks for the interest guys. I'm actually hoping to keep this short since my stories have a tendency to get away from me. Anyway, next installment!

Chapter 4

Bethany was sitting at the kitchen table with her head resting on her folded arms. It was nine in the morning and she had just gotten back after seeing the children off to school and daycare. Today was her day off, the only time off she would have for the whole month and there was a boatload of work to do.

The house keeping was not top of her agenda since they had worked out a system long ago, where every child washed their own plate at meal times and made their own beds in the morning. She kept the rest of the place in shape and the whole thing worked after a fashion. Old lady Hennesy down the block did the washing and ironing and Bethany did any mending late at night.

The work that was waiting for her was more building maintenance. The seven of them were living in an old warehouse. The open space at the bottom was their main living area, the kitchen, the bathroom and a place for the kids to play. The upstairs offices were converted to bedrooms, the biggest one for the boys and then the second biggest for the girls. She was in the smallest room, not needing much space.

Sitting up, she surveyed the space around her and sighed, desperately wanting to give the kids a better place but knowing that she was doing the best she could.

You could give them much more if you just got back into the business.

The thought rose up in her mind and she squashed it savagely, speaking out loud to the empty spaces:

"No. This time is the last time. Tonight and no more."

That's what you said the last time.

Deciding that action was the best way to silence the inner voices, she stood up, determined to get the bedroom painting finished before the kids came home that afternoon. But when she got upstairs, she realized that she was short a necessary piece of equipment – a ladder.

Racking her brains on where she was going to find a ladder, she realized that she had seen one when she had gone to collect Eddie at the gym. Biting her lip, she decided to put her pride in her pocket and go ask if she could borrow it.

Turkish was holding the sandbag for George when he heard the door open behind him. Calling over his shoulder:

"I'll be with you in a minute."

Two minutes later, George finished the session and Turk turned to see who had come in. He stopped short when he spotted Bethany, thinking that he wouldn't be seeing her unless it was to collect Eddie.

"Hello. Eddie's not here." he said, springing to his own defense.

"Hi. I know Ed's isn't 'ere, I just dropped 'im at school. I was wonderin'…"

She trailed off into an embarrassed silence and he prompted her:

"Wondering about what?"

"Um, if I could borrow your ladder? I'll 'ave it back tonight – promise!"

Turkish noticed again that when she was agitated or embarrassed, her accent broadened, betraying her East End background. He grinned:

"Sure you can borrow it, but can you get it back to the house on your own?"

Her face fell and he could see that she hadn't thought of that. Grinning a bit more, he said:

"Why don't we load it into my car and I'll take you and it back to your place."

"Um," she squirmed in embarrassment, not wanting him to see where they lived.

"You can't carry it back the whole way." he said gently.

"Yeah, okay." she said grudgingly.

"Famous." He smirked and then hollered for George to pack the ladder into the boot of the land rover. In no time they were splashing along the streets in the direction of the warehouse district.

"There." she pointed at the small building and Turk stopped the car outside the main doors. Getting out, she pulled out a set of keys and proceeded to open the smaller door set into the main double door. Turk went round and pulled out the ladder and started carrying it inside, sliding past Bethany who was holding the door open.

Bethany closed the door behind her and faced him, drawing on her years of experience to keep her face completely expressionless. Inside she was alternately cringing with embarrassment and wondering why the hell she cared what he thought of them.

"There you are. When you're done with it, you can call the gym and one of us will come and fetch it, okay?"

"Sure." She nodded, not about to tell him that she didn't have a telephone or an idea of his number.

"Right then" he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card and held it out to her. "Here's where you can reach me."

Bethany took the proffered card and shoved it into her back pocket without looking at it. Looking up at Turkish, she saw his gaze had been drawn by a bowl on the side of the sink. Closing her eyes, she sent up a small prayer, hoping that he wouldn't say anything.

Turkish frowned and stepped closer to the sink to make sure he was seeing things correctly. His handkerchief was soaking in a bowl of water that had turned red. He turned back to her and asked:

"I hope you got a tetanus shot for that 'scratch' of yours." He stated deadpan.

"Oh yeah, I went this morning early." She said quickly.

He said nothing, just quirked a brow in her direction and then turned around to walk to the door. Opening it, he turned back to her and said:

"I'll be seeing you later then."

"As soon as I'm finished." She promised brightly, resisting the urge to shove him out the door.

She closed it behind him and leaned against the wall, heaving a huge sigh of relief, but at the same time, confused as to why he was making her so nervous.

Shaking her head, she picked up the ladder and toted it upstairs where she got to work.

The door closed behind him so fast that Turkish was surprised that she hadn't pushed him out. The clicking of the key as it turned in the lock made him grin although he wasn't sure why. As he climbed into the land rover he thought about the way Bethany had behaved ever since he had met her and he knew that she was hiding something. As he drove back to the gym, he wondered if it was going to spell trouble for him and Tommy.

As he pulled up outside, he noticed Hans's car was outside and his heart sank since he wasn't very fond of their landlord but played nice, always aware of who held their lease. He squared his shoulders and stepped inside, ready to make small talk and inane chatter.

"Ah, Turkish." Called Hans enthusiastically when he spotted him. "Come listen."

He could see that Hans had cornered Tommy at the desk and from the look on Tommy's face, he had been talking to him for a while now. A small stab of pity went through him as he came up to them, pulled up a chair and sat backwards on it.

"Heya Hans, what's up?"

"I have been telling Tommy here about the exciting match that I am to attend this evening." He enthused in his oddly formal English.

"Would that be a boxing match then?" asked Turk sharply. "Don't tell me that you're not finding our matches satisfactory."

"No no may friend, your matches are just fine!" said Hans. "But the sport that I am talking about is a little more…"

He fell silent and groped for an appropriate word. Eventually his eyes lit up and he swung back to Turkish and said:

"Refined. Yes, the sport that I am talking about is more refined than just plain boxing."

"And you want us to attend, why?" asked Turk suspiciously.

"Ah, that is the business matter to discuss later, yes?" said Hans slyly. "I'll see you here, at nine o'clock."

With the word 'here' he tossed a scrap of paper on the desk and breezed out of the gym, leaving the smell of his heavy cologne behind.

Tommy and Turkish exchanged puzzled looks and then Tommy picked up the paper and said:

"This is out on the other end of the city. How are we going to get out there?"

"What makes you think we're actually going to go?" said Turkish peevishly.

"Well, um, not like you to pass up a business opportunity." Said Tommy.

Turkish rubbed his hands over his bristly scalp and sighed.

"Y'right Tommy. It's just that I never wanted to be this close in the pocket of ze Germans."

"Or in this case, ze German." Smirked Tommy.

"Yeah, yeah." Grumbled Turkish. "Now let's see those figures."

The two of them passed the rest of the morning doing the books and Turk's sullen mood was slightly improved when he realized that they were doing really well. But he still had a nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that it wouldn't last – it never did.

Bethany straightened up with a horrible sound that was half a groan of pain mingled and half a sigh of relief. The painting was finished and nearly dry. She couldn't wait to see their faces when they got home from school that afternoon. Glancing at the clock, she was surprised to see that she only had an hour to go before she had to leave to collect them.

She cleaned out the brushes and put the paint away and then headed off to the bathroom to shower. While she was waiting for the water to heat up, she tinkered with the leaking pipe under the hand basin. As soon as the pipes stopped banging against the wall, she knew that the water was ready and she shucked off her grubby clothes and stepped into the hot water.

Half an hour later she was walking the streets on her way to the school.

"Oh wow!" exclaimed Jack as he and the other boys surveyed their new paintjob. Similar cries of excitement came from the girl's room. Bethany smiled, glad that they were excited.

This makes it all worthwhile. She thought to herself, listening to their joy.

Before her inner conscience could begin to ask questions that she wasn't ready to answer, she called out to the kids:

"All right you lot, lets get downstairs and give it a chance to dry properly. Come on!"

She hustled them downstairs and got herself pulled into a game of romps before she made dinner. Getting the children fed, their homework done and ready for bed was fairly easy. Years of experience had honed their routine to a near military operation. Soon the unlikely household was quiet and the restful sounds of children sleeping filled the upstairs area.

Standing in the doorway to the boys' room, she used the thin wash of light from the outside streetlight to make sure that they were sleeping. Walking quietly, she made her way downstairs and let herself out into the night, silent as the shadows filling the street around her. Slinging a duffel bag over her shoulder, she made her way towards the main street so she could hail a taxi.

Upstairs, the children slept on, oblivious.

Hans had greeted them at the door and eagerly taken them upstairs to where they were waiting. He had seated them and then rushed off, babbling something about refreshment. Using the opportunity, Turkish looked around him and wondered what the hell he was getting himself into. They were on the second floor of the kind of house that Turk never even dreamed about being able to visit, let alone own. It was on the upper end of town and filled with obvious statements of the wealth of the owners. The room they were in was full of men and woman of all ages, race and colour. The only common denominator amongst them was money, lots of it.

Tommy was quiet as well, but not for the same reasons that Turk was. His attention was captured by the large steel cage standing in the center of the room. It was about ten feet square and reached nearly to the ceiling. Made of solid steel posts and fencing mesh, it was an imposing structure and he wondered if they were into some sort of indoor wrestling.

Turkish, a little more worldly than Tommy, knew exactly what he was looking at, a fighting cage. Only used in some form of illegal blood sport. He wondered if it was going to be bare-knuckled boxing or something a little more extreme. He didn't wait long to find out.

Hans came bustling back, bearing three glasses of expensive French champagne and handed one to each of them while clutching his own. Speaking eagerly, he told them that the fight was going to start momentarily and that they were in for a treat tonight since there was going to be an amateur match before the main event. Not wanting to give away his unease, Turkish smiled thinly and said:

"I can hardly wait."

"I knew it!" exclaimed Hans. "I knew it from the moment I found out who you were, this was going to be your thing."

"What exactly is 'this'?" asked Tommy, peering round Turk's chest. "I'm a little lost."

Hans burst into wild laughter and said to Turk:

"He's so innocent is he not?"

"Yeah, innocent." Muttered Turk before burying his nose in champagne bubbles.

Stung, Tommy leaned back and watched the people taking their seats. What ever was going on, it was about to start.

"Good Evening ladies and gentlemen!"

The voice boomed out of a rotund man standing in front of the cage, wearing a suit and carrying a microphone. He gestured to a stocky man on his left and said:

"Phillip here had agreed to take on the amateur match tonight. His opponent will be Justin."

He waved his hand to his right where there was a pale and trembling teenager who started to wave but then thought better of it. He shot a look at Phillip who glared back and then took off his shirt revealing his heavily muscled and badly scarred body. Justin swallowed hard and removed his own shirt, baring his pale and unmarked skin.

The crowd went wild and shouted all sorts of insults and jeers. Turkish had a hard time making out the things that were being said and then just gave it up as a bad job. He noticed a pair of shapely ladies circulating the crowd, taking money and passing out slips of paper and figured they were taking the bets. Hans waved them away and said to him:

"I am waiting for the main event. No sense in wasting good money on an untried boy no?"

Turk just nodded and tried to ignore the little voice in his mind that was telling him was going to happen.

Phillip, Justin and the announcer were joined by a third young woman who was wheeling in a large ornate chest, highly polished and carved. Opening it with a flourish, it revealed a frightening collection of knives and blade and other pointy objects. Phillip and Justin leaned in, selecting weapons.

Tommy felt his eyes widen and nudged Turk, who looked at him. He mouthed silently:

"What the hell is going on here?"

Turk leaned down and spoke quickly and quietly:

"It's a knife fight. Two armed opponents go head to head, either for first blood or worse."

"Worse!" hissed Tommy. "What could be worse?"

Turkish said nothing but his face spoke volumes and then he said firmly:

"Just stay quiet and go along with this, we're not in a good place right now and we want to get out of here with all our bits intact. All right?"

Tommy nodded, his face almost as pale as the unfortunate Justin's. Facing forward again, Turkish could feel the horror build inside of him. Sure, boxing wasn't exactly a fucking tea party either, but neither of the men tried to deliberately kill each other. He dreaded the outcome of the match that was getting underway.

The door closed behind Phillip's back and was latched from the outside. He and Justin circled each other, waiting for the sound of the bell. The announce raised the mike and said:

"This will be a first blood match, seeing that it is the first time Justin has been in the ring. If no blood had been drawn after three minutes, an extra two minutes will be given. If no blood is drawn after that, the match will be declared a draw. Gentlemen, you understand the rules, now, fight!"

The crowd roared its approval as Phillip lunged at Justin with a sharp bowie knife. Having selected a longer blade, Justin managed to deflect the blow and lean away. Regaining his balance, Phillip watched Justin through narrowed eyes and then stepped back quickly as the youngster stepped in with a sideways strike. The blade hissed past him and Justin followed, unable to stop his own momentum. Phillip used the opportunity to strike from the back, slashing deep into the pale skin from left shoulder to right hip. Justin howled and crumpled into a heap in the corner. Sneering at him, Phillip stripped the blood from his blade with thumb and forefinger and flicked it away from him.

The announcer hurriedly opened the door and let Phillip out who lifted his arm in victory. There was a brief bustle of activity as the two ladies collected the money or paid it out while other women circulated with more champagne. Justin was hauled out of the ring with no apparent concern for his injuries and hustled off out of the room. Soon the noise settled down as the announcer stepped back to the cage and lifted the mike.

"We are in for a treat tonight ladies and gentlemen, made possible by Hans."

The roving spot picked out Hans and blinded Turk and Tommy as he stood and made a flamboyant bow to the crowd. The announcer allowed the applause for a moment and then spoke again, drawing the light back to him.

"Last night a challenge was issued and accepted. There will be no time limit for this grudge match. It had been called as a fifth blood. Five wounds to be inflicted on one opponent. No points will be awarded to blows to the hands or forearms. Blows to the face will count. Now lets meet the fighters:"

A man in his mid thirties stepped into the pool of light and took up an arrogant stance next to the announcer. He was tall and at first glance, looked slender. Further inspection revealed broad shoulders with long lean muscles that indicated strength and speed. He was bare chested and wore a pair of exercise pants. In each hand he held a broad hunting knife with barbs on the back of the blade. They were at least three-quarters of a foot long and were gleaming in the spotlight with deadly promise of sharpness.

"In this corner, the challenger, Jason."

Jason took up a fighting stance and lifted the knives above his head, crossing the blades and drinking in the cheers of the crowd.

"He's a pompous ass." Muttered Hans to Turk. "He wishes to make a name for himself on the back of a legend."

"That happens in my business as well." Said Turk, who was so far unimpressed with what he had been shown. Blood sport just didn't do it for him, but to keep the peace, he kept his opinion to himself.

"And for your viewing pleasure ladies and gentlemen, the defender. Who needs no introduction, who has been out of the cage for three years, who ruled the sport for five years before that, the Reaper!"

The crowd erupted to its feet and the noise level increased to a deafening pitch. From the back of the room, the seething mass of humanity started to part to allow someone to step through towards the cage. Turkish didn't stand with the rest of the crowd and only saw the defender as they walked past his row. They were wearing a black robe with the hood drawn up, leaving nothing to see.

"Not very tall." He remarked to Hans, as the excited German took his seat.

"You will learn my friend that nothing is always as it seems in this world."

The Reaper had reached the cage and lifted their hands to push the hood back. As it fell, the harsh light of the spot glinted off brown hair and pale skin. Turkish felt like someone had slammed a hammer into his gut and Tommy hissed urgently into his ear, telling him what he already knew:

"That's Bethany!"