Read this book if you want to f-k Tommy Shelby.
You're Billy Kimber's daughter.
You've been accused of stealing the Peaky Blinders' shipment of guns.
And now you're forced to work with Tommy Shelby to solve the mystery of who's framing your father...
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Tommy plays absent-mindedly with my hair. I release a small sigh, head resting on his chest, perfectly content in the moment.
He asks, "Would you like to meet my family?"
My gaze snaps to him. "They're here? All of them?"
"Finn's here, and Michael and Pol came over for dinner." The light reflects from his eyes, giving them a shine. "They've heard enough about you by now."
I tilt my head. "You've been telling your family about me?"
"Of course." He pulls away to light another cigarette. "You did steal our guns, after all."
I can't tell if he's joking or not. "You still believe that, after what we just did?"
He considers me as he draws on his cigarette, but does not answer. My incredulous glance turns to a glare.
"So what, you're happy to fuck me, expecting to kill me?"
"I'm not going to kill you, Kimber," he says, tapping his cigarette ash away. "Even after I prove you stole them."
"Then what are you planning to do? Not that it'll happen. I know I'm innocent. But I'm curious to see the way your mind works. Will you forgive me? Chastise me? Or will it truly be an apology in front of your brothers, and the whole thing's dealt with?"
He clutches my face with one hand, fingers and thumb pressed into my cheeks. "When I find the proof I need... I'm going to punish you."
His words send a ripple of fear through me. I'm almost nervous to ask... "How?"
A smile flits momentarily across his face as he stares deeply into my eyes, still holding me. "I have many ideas," he murmurs. "All of them ending with your screams. The good kind."
Oh god. My mind races through endless possibilities of what that could entail. I still haven't recovered from the way he just sent me crashing into a million pieces — and we've barely begun foreplay.
"Does that mean I get to punish you when I prove my innocence?" I tilt my head, watching him for a reaction.
His answer is only a slow shake of his head.
"That doesn't seem fair."
"I'm guessing Billy Kimber didn't pass on the lesson, but most of us learn pretty young that life's not fair." He stubs out the cigarette. "Come. Or Polly will hunt you down herself and try to accost you when I'm not around."
Polly. I can see how much respect Tommy has for his aunt. Every time he's mentioned her in passing, it's glaringly obvious. She's the one I'm most terrified to meet.
Only the choice between doing it now, in the presence of witnesses, or another time, when I'm totally alone, is enough to drive me to my feet.
I fumble with my clothes in the mirror, feeling like one of Tommy's prostitutes after all. I check all my buttons are straight. Comb through my hair with my fingers. Bruising still shows through my thick layers of makeup, I realise with a sigh. But there's nothing I can do about that. And sure the Shelby's, of all people, will be used to it.
Tommy leads me through to the house, and it's already packed with his family. There's a rustling by the door — two men I haven't met shrug into coats. Both look younger than the others. Michael and Finn, I note with an educated guess. They both pause to look at me, taking me in.
Beside them, a woman who can only be Polly stuffs cash into her bag. "There you are," she says, glancing up quickly at Tommy. "We're off to the Garrison. John and Arthur are there already. You coming?"
Her gaze slips across to where I stand beside him. Her eyebrows raise slightly, a suppressed smile tugging at her mouth.
"Alright." Tommy addresses me. "Got your coat?"
I fight the urge to break through the door and run.
"Who is this?" Polly asks, as I slip my trench coat from the hook.
There's no point in hiding it, I decide. This is going to be awkward either way. Might as well address it and get it over with. "I'm Billy Kimber's daughter. You lot want to kill me because you think I stole your guns. Ring any bells?"
Polly's taken aback for only a moment, then her smirk breaks free. "Is that so? And what were you doing all alone with Billy Kimber's daughter, Tommy?"
"Interrogating her for information," Tommy deadpans as he slips into his coat. "Tried to drown her. Threatened her family. She's not cracked yet, mind. But we'll get there. Eh, Kimber?"
Polly rolls her eyes, but the smile doesn't leave her. "Let's just go. We can discuss this in the pub."
"This here's Michael," Tommy introduces us. "And Finn."
Michael gives me a cold, calculating nod. Finn shakes my hand, grinning. I know which one I prefer — but that might not be entirely fair. First impressions aren't always accurate.
The night air bites at my skin as we walk to the pub. Even with my coat on, a small shiver runs through my bones. Tommy sees this, stepping in closer and wrapping an arm around my waist. The heat from his body presses against mine, and the chill suddenly becomes more bearable.
"...crawling with coppers, of course," Polly mutters, as you catch the tail end of the conversation.
The pub comes into view. I fight to keep an even pace, and the warmth is heavenly once we step inside — even if it does come hand in hand with a noisy atmosphere.
"Relax, Pol," Tommy says. "These are our coppers. No safer place for us in all of Birmingham."
"Even so, I don't want any trouble tonight," she says grimly.
Tommy leads me to the bar, where a handful of men instantly scarper to make room. I sit delicately on a stool while Tommy orders drinks. I glance across the liquor bottles on the shelves, registering different types of vodka, rum, whiskey...
I freeze.
My heart thumps in my chest, eyes locking on the bottle. No. It can't be. It's just a coincidence, surely.
But there it is. Whiskey in a wine bottle, with rustic labelling. Some local fucking brew shit, Alfie Solomons had said.
It's the same whiskey bottle the gun thief had left in the car.
