The Truce (London Suits 1)
“Bye, Martha. Love you.” I left her sleeping, closing the door behind me with a soft, final click.
As I left the retirement complex, concern for Martha occupying my mind, my phone rang. Glancing at the screen I groaned. Dad. He only ever called me when he wanted something.
“What do you want?” I barked.
“That’s no way to speak to your father, Lucas.”
“Dad, I’m not in the mood. Tell me the reason for your call, and we can avoid this charade.”
I could hear him hesitate.
“Well…thought you might want to know that Sandy and I got married. And—”
“You got married? I didn’t even know you were engaged. When?”
“Last week. I proposed on her birthday, ’bout nine months ago.”
“And this is the first I’m hearing about any of it.” My voice was flat.
“Uh. Well. That is to say…” He trailed off.
“Whatever. Thanks for finally telling me, I guess.”
“Right. Anyway, Sandy and I thought you could give us money instead of a wedding present.”
I laughed bitterly. “No, I don’t think so.”
His voice rose as he spat his venomous words through the phone. “After all the money I spent feeding and clothing you as a kid, you owe it to me.”
It took every bit of self-control I possessed to stop myself from saying words that could never been taken back.
“I’m hanging up now,” I gritted out through clenched teeth, ending the call.
Even after all these years, he still had the ability to hurt me.
What a shit day. My mood,
already low, had soured to the point where I needed to let off some steam, otherwise I’d end up doing something I regretted. I headed past the university where I’d studied alongside Ethan and Alex and entered a nondescript black door with a small metal plaque to the left, bearing the name Savage Boxing Gym. I let the heavy door clang shut behind me, pausing for a moment as the scents of musty leather and sweat surrounded me. Ethan, Alex, and I had come here all the time as students. Although it was out of the way for all of us now and we had closer gyms we could have joined, there was something about the basic, raw appeal of this place that kept us coming back.
I changed quickly, glad I’d had the foresight to bring my gym clothes to work with me, and headed into the gym area. Comprising a dimly lit, cavernous space, there were three boxing rings, and punch bags, speed balls and weights dotted around the room. The sound of gloves hitting leather, grunts as fighters punched each other, and the squeaking of shoes filled my ears as I walked up to a punch bag. Pulling on a pair of boxing gloves, I faced the bag, ready to pound my frustrations and worries into oblivion.
Panting, I wiped the sweat out of my eyes, my muscles aching, feeling a hundred times better.
“Alright, mate? Want a go in the ring? Seth’s free if you’re up for it.”
Axel Savage swaggered over to me, his huge, imposing presence sucking the air out of the room. He owned the boxing gym alongside his three brothers, but as the eldest, he had the authority of leadership. Tall, lethal, built like a brick shithouse, scarred and tattooed, he was the kind of man you’d cross the street to avoid. His reputation had earned him respect among London’s seedy underbelly, and if you had any sense you did not cross him.
I met his eyes in the mirrored wall we stood in front of. “Alright, mate. Thanks for the offer, but I punched the shit out of my frustrations already.”
I inclined my head towards the punch bag, which was still swinging.
Axel nodded briefly, his face impassive as always. No smile, because Axel never smiled. I’d once heard him say that to smile was to show weakness. Fuck, I didn’t smile a lot myself, but even I knew that the man had serious issues.
“Saw you beating the shit out of it. Pad work in the ring next time, yeah?” he drawled.
“Sure,” I replied. Someone called his name from the far side of the room and his head shot up.
“See ya later, Davenport.” He nodded at me and jogged away.