Peaky Girl (Peaky Blinders ABO Omegaverse Smut Fanfiction)

Sixteen

A shot rang out in The Garrison pub. The snug exploded. The world slowed. My ears rang from the shot. John stood. Arthur stood. I slid off his lap before he had risen to his feet. John's left hand moved toward the gun holstered under his right arm. Tommy had been smoking. He dropped his hand from his mouth. His wrist perched against the edge of the table. John flicked open the button of his holster. The snap echoed in my ears louder than the ringing. Arthur's hand was around his gun. I bent at the waist and retrieved my knife from my purse. John withdrew his gun. He held it with two hands toward the door of the snug. I flicked my knife open. Arthur held his pistol in one hand. He raised it the height of a man and pointed it toward the door to the snug. Tommy raised his cigarette to his lips.

"At ease, soldiers," Tommy said.

The pin dropped. The world turned again. I lowered my knife, and Arthur and John lowered their guns, all three sets of our eyes glued to our sergeant major.

A man's voice, tainted with an upper-class accent, rang out in the pub. "I said, 'Is there any man here named Shelby?'"

"Billy fucking Kimber," Arthur swore. He gave one more glance toward Tommy before depositing his gun back in its holster.

John followed the motion, slipping his pistol back into its holder, his arms loose and languid as if his every nerve was alive, and they probably were because mine were, too. I flicked closed my knife, picked up my purse, and slipped the knife inside. I decided I would start wearing stockings so that I could strap knives to my legs within easy reach. Next time I would not be so slow to react.

It didn't matter that Billy Kimber was not an immediate death threat to the Shelby pack. The Lees had given one, and I needed to stay sharp. It had been stupid of me to think otherwise. I was slipping. I had gotten too comfortable.

Tommy stood from his seat, hands running down his perfect black suit as if it wasn't perfect. "Follow my order, lads."

John retrieved a toothpick from his jacket pocket and slipped it between his lips. He picked his peaky cap off of the table and situated it on his head, tilting it so that it shadowed over one green eye. He rounded the booth, meeting Tommy in the small space between the table and the door. "And Ruby?"

"Everyone else will leave. Ruby will stay. She's to be involved in business now."

John's green eyes glinted with mirth, and they flickered to me, but he said nothing and gave away nothing, his face almost impassive like Tommy's. He opened his arm to me, and I stepped into his embrace, letting him press me to his side.

Arthur straightened his suit and walked several steps to meet us near the door of the snug. "We about to make a move on Kimber, eh, Tom?"

"Not exactly."

Tommy opened up the door of the snug. We walked out, Tommy first, John and I trailing behind, and Arthur accepting the rear, closing the snug door behind us.

Tommy waved his arm at the bartender. "Harry, get these men a drink." He raised his arm toward the crowd now sitting, staring silently at the commotion. "Everyone else, go home."

The Garrison was once again a flurry of activity as the occupants vacated. Polly made a beeline for us, but John shook his head at her, mouthed something over the heads of the crowd, and she marched out the door with the rest, pursing her familiar prim lips.

Moments later, we sat at a table with Billy Kimber and his accountant. Two armed guards stood behind the pair, hands in their pockets. Billy Kimber himself was a travesty of a man, but a dapper one at that. His dark hair was parted in the middle and combed to the sides, plastered to his egg-shaped head. He had a short brow and thick dark eyebrows that bulged out above narrow dark eyes. His nose was crooked, and he sported a thin mustache that dropped around his even thinner lips. He wore a sturdy black suit, and his red tie tightened so tightly around his stiff white collar that I thought it might slice into his neck and cut off his head.