In The Bleak Midwinter (Thomas Shelby x Female OC)

Part Three

Billy Kimber was not a pleasant man to be around. His hands would stray too often, as they danced, as they drank, as they sat down for a cigarette. But Dynis endured it stoically. With a pleasant smile even.

Listening to his boastful, raunchy stories, and wholly inappropriate comments directed at herself, was close to the worst thing she experienced on a job. As a woman in her line of work, she had learned how to be approachable, to easily fit into every role, to make the men who were her targets warm up to her, and let their guards down before she stuck a knife between their ribs, figuratively (and quite literally sometimes).

That day at the races wouldn't be that different from her previous jobs - just another sleazy bastard who had gotten too comfortable, thinking that he was untouchable. She would soon show him how incorrect he was.

Her promised payment was sizeable, though not unusually so. Over the war years, as most of the men were gone and women were left to do all of their work, even the dirtiest, she rose through the ranks of independent contractors. Without the male competition, the mob bosses that sneaked their way through the inscriptions still had scores to settle throughout England, and Dynis took this opportunity to make a name for herself. Her main workplace was London, but in the years after the war she had gotten summons from Birmingham as well. She expected Kimber to be her client, rather than a target.

But he had obviously chosen a formidable opponent. Smart, if they recognized her worth and employed her without much ado. Cheeky, stubborn, difficult, but smart.

Thomas Shelby had armed her with the information that he had and the set up that he made. A day at the races that was to end in bloodshed. He had instructed her what to wear and how to behave to get Kimber's attention the quickest and she had to admit that he was right on all accounts. There was no set up to do, making her job almost easy. Almost.

A hand on her thigh that she wanted to swat away, but instead had to suffer, made her skin prickle. She calmed herself internally, knowing that disposing of this vile man would just be all the more satisfactory. She learned how to be patient a long time ago. Which was why she would only take a deep breath and continue smiling.

It wasn't long before the races ended and Kimber clasped her hand between both of his, leaning toward her, stinking of scotch and cigars.

"I'll take you to my place, eh? Show you a good time?" he leered, "You deserve that much, doll."

Dynis suppressed the urge to vomit, and instead placed a flirtatious hand on his shoulder, playing with the collar of his shirt. "I would love that," she lied.

Kimber's wife was so uncomfortably close, definitely close enough to overhear, certainly close enough to have seen every little touch that transpired during the event, but the man himself did not seem to care. She was just a trophy. Married for her family name, for the dowry or the connections most likely. Poor woman, if Dynis was in her place she would have sweetened his tea with arsenic a long time ago. The wife pretended not to see anything, however, and she let the two of them take a car ahead of her.

The drive was painfully long, and Dynis contemplated dealing with him on the road to the home, but unfortunately there was no place secluded enough. Forced to go to the house, then wait in the study, drink more, smile at more jokes, she bided her time until Kimber was drunk enough and servants were barred from entering the room.

"Come here," he told her, a hand on her wrist as he pulled her close. Dynis's hands were on his chest, and his hands were on her behind as he swayed drunkenly.

"What if someone comes in?" she asked, feigning embarrassment.

"Don't worry, girl," Kimber chuckled, "The staff know not to come in here when I have a woman over. Don't be so timid, come on," he said, lowering his lips to her neck, planting sloppy kisses that left her skin damp.

Dynis craned her neck to let him busy himself, letting him walk her to the pool table and press her against it. She let his hands grab her thighs and pick her up, she even wrapped her legs around his waist. And when his hands were fussing with the straps of her dress, she had already taken out the slender knife kept in her heeled shoe.

Kimber did not get to see her bare breasts before she stuck the blade in his neck. His eyes went wide, hands clutching at the wound, trying to stop the blood, as she wiggled away from him and slipped from the table. Messy, yes. Satisfying, definitely.

She lingered long enough to wipe the blood off her hands and replace the blade in her shoe, as her host's lifeless body collapsed against the pool table. Then she put the coat over her bloodied dress and slipped through the window.

This was the part she hated. Her escape depended of one man. Thomas Shelby had promised he would be waiting with a car in the woods behind Kimber's manor. He promised he would be her getaway driver. She hated relying on promises, especially on promises given by her clientele, they were always broken.

How silly it would be if she was caught now because she relied on the word of a wanna-be gangster from the slums of Birmingham. A man she met because he kept her awake night after night (and not in a good way), a man that found out her identity and hired her less than half a day ago. Perhaps she had said yes to the murky business far too soon.

Dynis's heels caught in the grass, falling through the soft ground, so she removed them, carrying them in one hand and her purse in the other, as she hurried through the woods. It took a quarter of an hour to emerge onto a road. And then she stopped. How stupid it would be of her to be caught now.

The car engine roared to life and a Thomas Shelby opened the doors from the inside, waiting for her to hop in. He had been waiting.

Getting in quickly, instead of a greeting, Dynis only offered a report, "It's done."

The man on the driver's seat nodded and drove off.

They drove in silence for a while, the only sound the rumble of the engine and the occasional chirp of birds high up in the trees.

Eventually, Mr. Shelby broke the silence, his voice low and measured. "Exceptional work, Miss Arden," he said. "Your payment is here." He gestured at the compartment in front of the passenger's seat.

"Thank you," Dynis nodded, though she didn't need any compliments. She knew she was good at this, she went through many failures to become as good as she was today. Opening the compartment she found a brown envelope stuffed with cash pounds. She didn't count them. Mr. Shelby proved himself to be a man of his word.

"Drop me off at the station, please," she said when she placed the envelope in her purse.

"Going away already?" he asked, giving her a glance out of the corner of his eye. "A place could be found for you here. My family will take over Kimber's businesses, and I could use someone of your skill around."

"I'm flattered, Mr. Shelby," Dynis offered him a cold smile, "But I never stay in one place too long. Let's not forget that I just killed a man before being seen leaving the stadium with him. The police will be looking for me in a matter of a day." She folded her hands in her lap and explained, "I already had my belongings sent to London. I will go in a different direction. Lay low for a while. Maybe it's time to color my hair again." She took a strand of her hair between her fingers, letting out a small chuckle.

"I like the red," Thomas Shelby's coarse voice echoed in the car cabin, "It suits you."

As the light waned, they pulled up to the station. Mr. Shelby brought the car to a stop, the engine idling softly as they sat in silence for a moment longer. Dynis turned to him, her expression unreadable in the dim light of the car's interior.

"Try to drink less alcohol and more tea, Mr. Shelby," she told him, "And maybe try to rein in your ambitions, I would hate to receive a paper with your name on it."

With that, Dynis stepped out of the car, closing the door behind her. 

"I can't promise that, Miss Arden." She heard him chuckle and wave a hand through the window, before he drove off into the night, disappearing into the darkness.