Kimber's Dilemma - Tommy Shelby x Reader Fan Fic

Chapter 13

Tommy

Cool whiskey burns across my tongue, eliciting a sigh of relief from deep in my chest. Thank fuck for that.

I needed that moment with her in the club, the scent I'd been craving for days all across her skin, pressing in close. I needed to press my hands to the soft flesh of her thighs, to feel her move, to see her in expensive lingerie rather than muddy riding boots.

I want to fuck her. That's all.

Relief. A reason, an explanation for why she continually plagues my mind, why she arrives into my thoughts frequently and uninvited. Why I'm paying men to watch her at all times, to make sure she doesn't leave the city.

It's never been like this when I wanted women before.

I swill that through my mind for just a moment before dismissing it. It means nothing. Sex. That's all I'm after. A primal instinct — one I can't be blamed for. I cling to this excuse like it's a floating raft, and all that will save me from drowning.

I ignore the tiny voice in my mind that says there's more to it.

No. There's not.

But the bruises on her face...

My fist tightens around the whiskey glass so violently it shatters, sending shards and pools of amber liquid all across the desk. That only angers me more. I stare at the mess for a moment, before shrugging my coat on and leaving the room, calling out to my brothers.

"Round of golf," I say. "Now."

Finn's out seeing Polly, but Arthur pokes his head from behind the door of his office. "Can't, I'm afraid, Tom. I've got to calculate odds for the race tomorrow."

"Set them all at thirty-to-one and be done with it," I dismiss. "John?" I call out.

Arthur sighs, but knows better than to argue. He scribbles something into his book and goes to get the golf clubs.

John saunters downstairs, yawning and rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Get dressed. We're golfing."

"I've barely fucking slept," John complains.

It's true. John had taken another hour to return Kimber's horse, while I waited in the car to give him a lift back to Small Heath. He'd done a double shift before that too, and was crumpled over asleep before we'd even made it back to the city. I had to deal with his elephant-like snores puncturing my fond recollections of the night spent with Kimber.

"Sleep on the course," I say. "Fresh air might do you good."

***

It's just what I'd needed, I reflect, as I swing the club. I can focus on the game and on my swings, simple logic and calculation. Black and white. A busy mind. The way I like things to be. Conversation with Arthur and John flows lighthearted and easy. John dances around with a golf club across his shoulders, while Arthur loses half his balls and has to rustle around in patches of grass to find them. Everything's bloody peaceful.

I should have known it would be too good to last.

"So," John says at the ninth hole, mischievous grin spreading across his face. "You and the Kimber girl at Horton's, eh? Was she paying, or working?"

I ignore my brother. I know how it must look. People frequently go there to participate in orgies, or simply to fuck somewhere without risk of being seen. And thank fucking god Kimber had only danced, had stuck to the booth. I don't want to think about how the night would have gone if I found her without another man. Rather than returning a horse, John would be cleaning up a murder site.

"That where you took her last night?" Arthur mutters, grinning as he lines up his shot.

"Laugh it up," I say drily. "I'll have proof either of the Kimbers is behind the gun robbery before you know it, and then we can leverage it over Billy's head."

Arthur lets out a low whistle as he sends the ball sailing through the air, landing miles away from the hole. "You still think he did it, then?"

John rolls his eyes. "It was one of his fucking cars that fled the scene. Who else would it be? Him, his daughter, his fucking shoemaker for all I care."

"Innocent until proven guilty, John," I say, pulling a club free and lining up the shot.

There's a clink as the club hits the ball, and then it rolls and approaches the hole, drawing to a stop... mere inches away.

A small noise of amusement escapes me. It's not in my nature to make needless errors.

"Whatever you say. But don't forget you're sleeping with the enemy." John shrugs. "Almost wish I'd thought of it myself.

"She's not the enemy," I remind him.

John lifts his club into the air with both hands, grinning. "Don't tell me you've got feelings for her, Tom. Had me riding her fucking horse and all."

"And that's not all she'd been riding," Arthur sniggers.

I keep my expression impassive. I can tolerate the teasing from my brothers. I've dealt with it for a lifetime, and I'd be dishing it out in kind if our roles were reversed. It's never malicious between us. And I know John and Arthur wouldn't dare refer to Kimber in a derogatory manner, not if they had even the faintest inkling I'll react poorly. And clearly, they have more than an inkling.

That might be why I choose to say more. Why the words fall from my lips. Because these are the only people in the world I can say more to.

"She's not what I expected." I busy myself finally tapping the ball into the hole. "She's intelligent. Not squeamish, not with blood or anything. She never does what she's fucking told." My lips press together. "If she did take the guns, we'd have a fucking problem on our hands."

"Well that description reminds me of someone else I know," Arthur mutters as we walk to the next hole.

"She's not like me, Arthur." I glance to the distant sky, watching as the clouds come in and cover the world in a thick layer of grey. I find myself wondering what she might be doing in this exact moment. Wishing I could know, could have eyes on her at all times.

An insatiable curiosity, and one I might never fucking understand.