Bancroft - Peaky Blinders Reverse Harem x Reader

Chapter 56

A few days pass and still Tommy refuses to budge on the matter of me going undercover. But I know I'll get through to him eventually.

I leave him his cigarettes, whiskey and buttercups each night, and I add a condom once more. On it, I simply write: me.

When I see him the next afternoon, he's more relaxed than he's been in ages. I can tell by the way he holds his shoulders, the way he blinks slowly as he reads his newspaper at the table. My chest swells at the sight of him in a rare moment of peace — that is, until John surprises me with a jab in the ribs as he walks past, laughing as he kisses me on the head and pours himself a cup of tea.

Tommy raises his eyebrows at us both, but as he lights a cigarette, I can tell he's still in a good mood.

"I have to run those boxes to Yorkshire," John says. He glances at me. "Wanna come for a drive?"

I perk up. "Alright. What's in the boxes?"

"Best you don't know," he grins.

I glance at Tommy. I don't need to ask permission, but want to be respectful.

"You'll be able to live without me a few hours?" I ask.

He flips his page. "Managed thirty years before you came along." But then he fixes his gaze upon his brother. "Anything happens to her, you're a dead man."

John presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. "And what if something happens to me?"

"Don't fret," Tommy replies. He exhales smoke. "You'll be with Bancroft. No safer place in all the world."

"You hear that?" John asks me. "You're my muscle."

I reply, "I don't know about that, but I'll be your gun for hire."

"Good enough for me," he grins. "Let's hit the road."

He leaves to ready the car, while I hesitate beside the table. Before everything went wrong, I'd have kissed Tommy goodbye with no hesitation.

But now, I still don't know where we stand.

He reaches into his suit pocket, then presses a condom into my palm. I raise my eyebrows.

"Have fun," he tells me. And somehow, I can tell he means it.

With that in mind, I take his face in my hands and brush my lips against his, savouring the taste of him. "See you later."

I can feel his gaze still on me as I leave the room.

***

It's impossible not to smile widely the entire time when driving with John.

He sings his favourite songs at top volume, with no backing music, and no regard for the people we pass. And when he gets bored of that, he launches into a limerick competition.

"Not fair," I tell him. "I don't know any good ones."

"You don't just know good ones," he explains. "They're born in the moment. Like this." He clears his throat. "There was on old girl from Kilkenny. Whose usual charge was a penny." He grins. "For half of that sum, you might slip into her bum, a source of amusement to many."

I shake my head, stifling a laugh. "You did not make that up, John Shelby."

"Alright, I heard it in the pub," he relents. "But somebody made it up. Go on."

I sigh. "My father's friends used to do these at parties." I pause. "There was a young girl of Pitlochry. Who was had by a man in a rockery. She said, 'Oh! You've come, all over my bum, this isn't a fuck — it's a mockery."

John exclaims a laugh and shakes his head. "If that's the case, Bancroft, I'll make a mockery of you any day."

"We both won that round," I say. "Could have almost been the same story."

We carry on exchanging them until we reach the warehouse, and John drops off the boxes. The sun's setting by the time we're driving home, disappearing over the trees in the distance. We're just south of Doncaster when the engine begins to spit and shudder.

"That doesn't sound good," I say.

"Fuck," John mutters. "I'm shit with engines."

"I won't be much help." I inhale sharply. "We might get lucky. Surely it'll make it home, at least."

As though it has taken my words as an insult, the car comes to a lurching, groaning stop. John tries starting it again, to no avail.

"Fucking hell," he mutters. He gets out of the car and examines the engine, before shaking his head. "It's no use," he says. "I'll go find help."

"A mechanic, at this hour?" I ask.

"You stay here," he tells me. He checks the bullets in his gun, and grabs a flashlight from the back. "I won't be long."

But with no way to track the time, every second he's gone feels like an eternity. I'm on edge, expecting McGuffin to leap from the bushes at any moment, my mind beginning to race with panic. What if John doesn't come back? What if something happens to him? The thought makes my throat tighten, my eyes burn. How long do I wait before going to investigate?

"Thank Christ," I mutter, as the beam of his flashlight finally returns over the dip in the road.

He shakes his head when he reaches the car. "Nobody can come until morning. There's a bed and breakfast about a mile up the road. I booked us a room."

"Just the one?" I ask, taking his hand as he opens my door.

"Only one they had left," he says.

I glance at the car. "What if someone tries to steal it?"

John scoffs. "Won't get very far, will they?"

"Good point." I wrap my coat tighter around myself. "Lead the way."