Kimber's Dilemma - Tommy Shelby x Reader Fan Fic

Chapter 5

I lift the boot of the car, my stomach coiling in anticipation of what we might find. The guns? A dead body? A sheet of paper, handwritten note titled, Billy Kimber did it?

My shoulders sag. It's empty. Clean. Immaculate, in fact — all glossy leather and the faint smell of pine.

"It's been cleaned," I say quietly, trying not to let defeat show across my face.

But apparently Tommy's not one to accept it. He leans forward and runs his hands along the gap where the boot meets the car frame. His fingers catch on something, and I cannot help but stare, my heart thudding in my chest. A cigarette dangles from his lips, his mesmerising eyes focused, his jaw a sharp line in the light.

He tugs free a torn piece of paper. Damp and stained — from all the cleaning chemicals. Holding it up to the light, Tommy examines it, my own eyes roaming feverishly. The ink's been smudged beyond recognition, sending a flicker of annoyance through me.

But all is not lost. There's a name embossed at the bottom of the page — R.D. Spiegler.

"Looks like it's from a diary," Tommy murmurs. "Your father got a man called Spiegler working for him?"

The name doesn't ring a bell. I take quick mental inventory of all the Boys I know, but there are plenty I haven't met. "I'll have to check."

"Not to worry." He draws from his cigarette and pockets the page. "I'll find him."

And that's it. He's done. He strides through the garage, not so much as a glance back in my direction. I'll find him, he said. I realise I've been used.

"Hey!" I call out in anger, storming behind him. "This is my investigation."

He doesn't bother to stop, or even turn to face me. "I don't trust you, Kimber. You could be covering up evidence."

The words are clipped, leaving him in that Birmingham drawl. They fan the flames of my anger.

"Me covering up evidence? I think you're the one framing us." His feet finally still at that. "You've been searching for a reason to go after my father," I continue. "Now you've invented one. I'd be willing to bet you stole your own fucking guns, just to have an excuse."

"You clearly don't know me very well," he says, turning to face me at last. His eyes are ice cold. "I go after what I want. I don't need an excuse."

I fight the shiver he sends through me, folding my arms across my chest. "Can you say the same for the rest of the Peaky Blinders? I'm willing to bet they would need a little more convincing before going into war against us."

He steps in close to me, slowly, until all I can breathe is the smoke from his cigarette. His proximity blocks out every field of my vision. The scent of cologne and whiskey clings to him, clouding my head more than the smoke. He's trying to intimidate me.

I fight hard not to show that it's working.

"I'll ask you again," he says quietly. "Where were you on Friday night?"

"At home." I refuse to break eye contact.

"See... I think you're lying to me."

"And where were you, Thomas Shelby?" I quip in response.

"Working."

I take a step closer until we're almost touching, refusing to allow this man to get the better of me. "I think you're lying to me," I echo, meeting his steely gaze.

He doesn't speak at first. My fingers clench into fists at my sides as we hold the stand off, the familiar sting from my nails biting crescent moons into my palms. It makes sense why Thomas Shelby is becoming so notorious. Only years of standing up to my father could have prepared me not to fold in front of him. That, and the anger of being unjustly accused.

"I'm going to find out what happened, Kimber." It leaves him as a quiet threat, a kiss of death. "And when I do, I suggest you leave Birmingham rather than wait for me to find you."

I say, "That would be frightening, if I were actually guilty. And you, Thomas Shelby... When I have the proof that neither I, nor my father, nor any of his workers did this... what will you do?"

"I'll be down on my knees, begging your forgiveness." There's a heavy tone of sarcasm running through his words. He clearly doesn't believe it'll ever come to that.

"In front of your brothers?" I ask, enjoying taunting him.

"If I must." His gaze flickers across me. "And if I find out it was you... I expect you to do the same."

"In front of your brothers?" Nerves pool in my stomach.

"No. In front of your father."

He must see the shadow of dread that crosses my face. "What's the matter?" He asks, his voice a low purr. "Beginning to worry?"

Am I that confident my father isn't in some way behind this? No. I don't know. But I'm sure as hell not about to admit that to Tommy and back out now.

"You have yourself a deal, Shelby."

I hold out my hand and he slips his bare palm into my own. I decide that, for as long as I live, I'll never admit how the friction of our skin pressed together lights up some area of my brain I have to fight to ignore.

"Now, fuck off," I tell him. "And find a nice cushion for those kneecaps. You'll be down there a while when the time comes."