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
"Now, I'm not ready to start a war here, alright, yeah? All I'm sayin' is, Billy bloody Kimber's holdin' a gun to my bollocks if I don't go through with the engagement. And I'm attached to my bollocks, Tom, I really am. I'd like to keep 'em. So if you and your bird want to stop it, sort it out among yourselves. But don't go hanging the messenger, or I'll come down on you Camden Town style and blow up all of fuckin' Small Heath if I have to."
I release a short, frustrated sigh, too quiet for the phone to pick up. I don't care how Alfie feels about his balls. It's his limbs I'll hack off first if he touches Kimber.
I don't need much more of an excuse. I'm already wound too tight to function. Billy's accountant's involved in the robbery, there's no two ways about it now. That means I have two choices before me.
To hide it from my men. To insist on my family's silence. Let word spread that some chump came and undercut twenty five thousand bloody pounds worth of guns and I simply let them get away with it. If other gangs get a whiff of that, they'll attack without mercy. We'll lose everything I've worked so fucking hard for.
Or, I reveal it was Billy Kimber. We go to war.
And they'll hang his daughter out to dry. They won't give two fucks if she's involved or not — to these men, blood's blood. She'll never be safe. And they'll turn on me for protecting her.
The last thing I need is Alfie fucking Solomons applying pressure from an entirely new angle while I'm trying to work out how to not get us all murdered in my sleep.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut as I listen to Alfie prattle on. When he finally stops to take a breath, I cut in sharply.
"I don't give a single fuck about your bollocks, Alfie." My voice is ice cold. "You should know by now I don't make empty threats. You come after what's mine, and there won't be enough of you left to fill a teaspoon. This engagement is over before it starts."
Alfie lets out an exasperated sigh on the other end of the line. "Come now Tommy, there's no need to get your knickers in a twist. Like I said, I'm the bloody messenger here — take it up with Billy boy if you've got an issue."
"Kimber's under my protection now." I stub out a cigarette forcefully into the ashtray. "She didn't ask for any of this nonsense, and I'll be damned if I let you or Kimber drag her into this feud with the Italians. You tell Billy in no uncertain terms that she's finished with you. She's one of mine."
"Yeah, and how do you reckon he'll react then, eh? I agree with you, the girl's not safe at her dad's. For what it's worth Tom, I like the girl, alright, I really bloody do. But she chose to go back there, and I'm still bloody 'ere, and my hands are fuckin' tied."
I'm used to his bullshit by now. I try to ignore the fact that he's half right. "Call off the engagement before I'm forced to take more extreme measures, Alfie. I don't enjoy repeating myself."
"And if she says yes?" Alfie quickly asks. "If she wants to marry me? We're in business together now, Tom. Ten quid she's made me in one day. Might be she wants to be Mrs Solomons after all. It's not like you're askin' for her hand for yourself, is it?"
My grip on the phone tightens. Just slightly. Mrs Solomons. The mere notion of Kimber accepting Alfie stirs a flame of wrath deep inside the base of my stomach.
"She won't say yes. Because you won't ask her. Kimber's not some pound of flesh to pass between us." I pause, my voice low and dangerous. "You think you can use her to get under my skin? To twist the blade at my weak spot? If you lay a hand on her, they'll never find enough of you to identify the pieces."
I hang up the phone without waiting for a response. I never should have let her go back there. There's too many fucking loose parts, too many objects in motion, and I'm losing my grip of control on all of them.
I have to make a decision. Either cast her out with Billy Kimber, or make her one of us. But how can I do that? Alfie was right — it's not like I'm asking to marry her myself.
And I would. The most infuriating part of all — I fucking would. But right now, there'd be riots through Small Heath if I did that. Billy Kimber would come for us in revenge. This has to be handled delicately.
And as always, I'm the only one who can handle it. Like I'm sat staring at a chess board, pieces fucking everywhere, a lone man playing against a team of eighteen international masters.
