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Claude

Claude

The young boxer was flushed and sweating as he stopped and turned to look at his father. His body was damp and his heart was racing. He had done well, he knew that but what did the man who stood silently on the ground near the ropes, with James Schwartz beside him, leaning on a cane; what did the Mafia Don who was watching him broodingly, from the ground, think?

Because the world knew what a pitiless, powerful street fighter Lucien Delano had been a long time ago, a legend in the ring, the man who had never lost a single match during any of his savage Underground fights.

Claude Delano wanted to live up to his father’s reputation. It was not an easy thing to dream of achieving but he had been slogging, practicing, for as long as he could remember, for the day when his father would be proud of him.

That was all that mattered.

After a long time, Lucien Delano growled,

“That was …well done, boy!’

Paddy, who was skulking in the shadows of the gym, for he was still terrified of the D
S.K.Taylor

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