Kimber's Dilemma - Tommy Shelby x Reader Fan Fic

Chapter 16

All the blood in my body chills as I enter Alfie's house. It's like two very separate worlds have collided, and such collisions can only end in disaster.

"You know Thomas Shelby?" I ask.

"Course I do. Bloody business partner, i'n' he?" Alfie says.

I stare at him for any hint of humour or deception. And I find none. My jaw clenches so hard, I worry my teeth will crack. Is Tommy playing me?

Is Alfie playing my father?

"Now, look," Alfie says, holding up his hands like he's trying to calm a jittery horse. "The situation's complicated. Alright? I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that."

"He orchestrated this whole thing," I say quietly.

"What fuckin' thing?" Alfie asks.

He leads me through the house, darkening as the sun sets outside. We come to a sitting room — black tile, dark wood, menorah on the mantelpiece and a Star of David strung up on the wall. Alfie lights a lamp and a set of candles.

"The guns."

He blinks. "I 'aven' a clue what you're on about."

My eyes narrow. "Why, exactly, did Tommy say I'd come by?"

"Said you'd come to tell me off for crossing your father with the Italians." Alfie sighs. "Can tell there's no love lost in your family, in any case. So what'll the price be for your silence? He wouldn't give me a figure. Hundred pounds?" I don't answer. "Fine, fine, two hundred?"

I stare at him. The cogs of my mind turn, struggling to keep up with so many new developments in this new post-collision world.

Tommy didn't betray me to Alfie.

If anything, he's given me a gift. Manipulated this man into telling me a very valuable truth — that Alfie did dob my father in with the Italians, after all.

Alfie pales. "That is why you're 'ere, innit?" When I don't respond, he wipes a hand across his face. "I'm gonna kill that brummy bastard."

"Now you really will need to buy my silence," I say coolly.

He sighs and slaps a cheque book onto the coffee table between us. "We'll call it an even two fifty," he says. "Any 'igher, you'll force me into fucking liquidation. And tell Shelby he can fucking pay me half, and all."

"I don't want money."

He appraises me for a moment. "Aha," he says, nodding slowly. "Makes sense. Cut of the business then, is it? Utilise me for my other services? What is it you're after? Old Billy's twice the racketeer I'll ever be, but if it's something you don't want him knowing about..."

I lean forward. "I want information."

He has the sense by now to stop divulging things unnecessarily. "What kind of information?"

"The burglary of the pleasure house. I know it was you." I look him in the eye. "I want to know why."

He glances at me through heavy eyes. "You ever been in the pleasure house?" He asks.

"Yes."

A chuckle escapes his throat. "Well, well. Imagine if Billy knew."

"I'm operating under the assumption that what we discuss does not leave this room. If you tell him what I've said, I'll get more burns on my arm," I shrug. "If I tell him what you've said, you'll get a bullet in your mouth. Your choice."

"Alright, alright, take it easy." He rolls his eyes. "The owner owed me a debt. For my services, you see. When he didn't pay, I had to collect."

I blink. "That's it?"

"What were you fuckin' expecting?"

I think for a moment. "So how does this tie into the car?"

"What car?" Alfie says, but I see his eyes shift.

Aha. Here it is. Weakness. I decide to pounce. "My fathers car. The one that was stolen and used to rob guns."

He's silent for a moment. "You know the buyer?"

"What buyer?"

He sighs and stands to his feet, pacing the room. "Don't fucking know, do I? Some anonymous client. Would only communicate through letters. Ninety fucking pounds, he paid me, just to nick a car. And a bottle of whiskey," he adds. "Left it in the car for me, all wrapped in a bow an' that. Some local fucking brew shit."

My heart skips a hundred paces. "Do you still have the bottle?"

"Course I do."

He leaves the room for a moment, and returns with a bottle in his hand. It's shaped more like a bottle of wine, with a maroon lid. And just as he said, there's a ribbon wrapped neatly around it. I take it in my hands, turning it in the lamp light and searching for any further clues. But other than the kitschy labelling and unique design, there's nothing out of the ordinary.

"So, let me get this right... an anonymous person made contact with you, and paid you to steal one of my father's cars the night the guns were stolen. You never met him. And after the job was done, you brought it back, assuming nobody would notice?"

He cocks his head. "Nobody did notice though, did they?"

I hand the bottle back and stand to my feet. Night has well and truly fallen now, and I still need to make my way back home through the decrepit streets.

"Consider my silence bought," I finally decide. "It's lucky I needed something from you, after you spilled the beans. Unless..."

I trail off in realisation. Alfie intended for me to know he's crossing my father. He didn't let anything slip by accident.

"You seem like a nice lady," he says quietly, watching as I piece it together. "No need for you to get hurt in any upcoming crossfire."

"You know I'm acquainted with Thomas Shelby, and you still have hope I'll stay out of things?"

Alfie shrugs. "Might not be a bad idea, to get in with the Peaky Blinders. Better life than feuding with the Italians, can tell you that for nothin'. An' that's where your father's headin'."

His words broil over in my mind as he plants a formal, and slightly scratchy, kiss on my cheek in the open doorway. I step outside into the cold, wrapping my coat tightly around my waist.

I cast about my nervous gaze, ready to get this over and done with.

But as things transpire, I don't need to worry about walking home in the dark anyway.

"Miss Kimber." Roberts pokes his head out of the nearest car.

I freeze. He followed me. My paranoia hadn't been for nothing — he's been watching me this whole time.

"Come on," he sighs. "Get in."