Kimber's Dilemma - Tommy Shelby x Reader Fan Fic

Chapter 39

I search through Roberts's office until my wrists ache.

It turns out, accountants keep a lot of paperwork. Everything meticulously handwritten and filed away. I don't know what it is I'm looking for, and it would take hours to sift through everything in the room. I don't have hours — only bare minutes, and not a single one of them guaranteed.

Lucky for me, Roberts's meticulous organisation means he keeps the legal paperwork entirely separate from the illegal. That cuts my search time by half.

It's still not much to go on.

"Nothing," I say through clenched teeth almost twenty minutes later. "Only the car cleaning records."

Tommy exhales cigarette smoke, leaning back against the windowsill. "Maybe there is no evidence, because the man's leading you on a wild goose chase."

"And maybe you want that to be the case," I point out.

I press a hand to my forehead. I have no idea how capably Alfie's handling the situation back at the party. No idea if I'm about to lose my chance to find out the truth without involving my father. I have no idea where to begin.

Start with what you know. But what do I know? Very little. Guns were stolen on the ninth of November. Using a car belonging to my father. I've checked off the cars.

But not the date.

Accountants don't organise things by date though...

Except their diaries.

Heartbeat thudding madly in my chest, I pull Roberts's leather-bound diary from the desk. Flip back through the pages to the ninth of November.

I freeze. My hands lock around the pages. My eyes widen. Fuck.

"What is it?" Tommy asks, immediately composing himself.

I will my voice not to shake. "Care to explain why your accountant met with mine the night before the robbery?"

Tommy's still a moment. Then, he steps forward. "Give me that."

I hand the diary over. The neatly penned appointment - Business. Michael Gray. Peaky Blinders. Re: short-term hire of automobiles.

A Manila envelope catches my eye as Tommy examines the diary. I pull it free. Nausea and anxiety roll through my stomach. Michael. Surely not. Surely it can't be.

Surely Tommy didn't know.

I pull the envelope free. A thick wad of photographs fall out. Presumably taken by a private investigator.

A search of Michael's office. I remember it — too well, I note. Items have been photographed like documenting evidence. My heart sinks further into my chest with each one.

A Spiegler's notebook.

Pages of an address book — including Alfie Solomons.

A cheque. A withdrawal of ninety pounds from the company — the exact sum Alfie charged for stealing the car.

Authorised. Right there, the familiar signature. Authorised by Thomas Shelby.

"Tommy," I say quietly. My hands tremble as I hold out the evidence. "Would you care to explain?"

He looks at me in disbelief. Almost in contempt. But then he takes a good look, and his expression changes. Hardens. His eyebrows raise. He shifts his weight. Begins to pace. Lights a cigarette.

All the while, I watch him. I stare. Waiting for any acknowledgement. Waiting for him to tell me he had no idea.

He says, "I'll have to speak with Michael."

"This whole time, you knew he took that money. You knew he paid it to Alfie for the car. And you said nothing. Why?"

Tommy sighs. "I didn't bloody know, alright?"

"Is the signature forged?" I flare with anger. "Tell me it's not real. Tell me none of this is real."

"I don't fucking know yet."

"You knew!" My anger bursts over and I push him in the chest. "You fucking knew this whole time. Answer me. Is. That. Your. Signature?"

He sets his jaw, but can't look me in the eye. "Yes. It is."

"You knew he was sending that money to Alfie?"

He has the nerve to sigh. "Yes."

I don't need to voice the words to my next question. They hang thick and unspoken between us. Did you know Michael did this?

Tommy doesn't answer.

"I have some things to sort out," he says evenly. "I'll be back in the morning."

"I'm coming with you."

"No. You'll stay here."

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. "No," I whisper. "I was only here to find the evidence we needed... I'm coming with you."

"Stay with Ada if you need somewhere to go."

I recoil. He's turned cold. Heartless. Completely closed off. I shouldn't be surprised — that's Tommy. That's business. But there's still a sting in his rejection.

There's still the fact he's not answering anything straight.

"Fine," I say quietly. "Goodnight, Tom."

I leave the room without waiting for a response. My logical mind knows he's shut down because he's in business mode. He's having to think quickly. Find a way to protect his family, or his business. Sort out this mess.

But I don't deserve to be shut out like that. I don't deserve to be left wondering whether I can trust him at all. And I can't move past it — the fact a man as smart as him surely put two and two together. There must have been some inkling of suspicion there.

And he didn't share it with me.

After I shared everything with him.

"Well look who fucking returned," Alfie grumbles as I enter the large room once more. "Your father's lookin' for ya. Not to happy, either. Offered to pay me triple what he first offered."

"Take it," I say.

Alfie blinks at me in surprise. "You take fuckin' opium back there or summin'?"

"No. But I have to live here." I swallow. "I'd rather not have him pissed off." And I'm petty enough to disregard Tommy's warnings. He says he owns me. Perhaps it's time he learned to take better care of his things. And besides, as I point out to Alfie, "If Tommy's gun doesn't hit you, my father's will. There's more chance of talking sense into Tommy. We'll simply have to stall an actual wedding until this is all sorted out."

Alfie shakes his head. "I'm takin' a larger cut of your business for this," he mutters. "Puttin' my bloody life on the line for some catholic girl."

I glance around the room, searching for any sign of Tommy. Almost hoping he'll come. Take me by the arm and insist I come with him after all. Apologise. Explain himself.

But he's gone. One rule for me, and another for himself. Because I know for a fact, if the incriminating evidence had involved my name signing off on ninety pounds to Alfie, Tommy would have knocked me unconscious and tied me to a chair sooner than let me out of his sight without an explanation.

"Lucky for you, I was never a very good catholic." I smile sadly at Alfie, and the night draws to a close.