Corrupt.

Part 2

John leaves your life again just as quickly as he'd come back into it, the screech of his tires blurring out whatever he's shouting into the hands-free system when he spins past you. It's not that easy in your mind especially not when you take a call of your own, fighting with the temptation of sending him to voicemail as your husband's name and number fills the screen.

"The strike worked," you haven't heard his voice so happy for a long while, the contrast between him and John stark as you think back to the 'got to go see Tommy' that he'd grumbled upon leaving you without so much as a kiss. "We got one of their top blokes, he didn't even see it coming. You should see the body cam footage - well obviously you can't but I gave the call as they raided it and we caught him."

You can taste the smugness in his voice, hear the way his hands rub together in glee as he tells you about the bloke taken down for processing and holding times that you yourself know by heart, "I'm on my way home now, will probably spend the night between my desk and the on-call room there's no point in giving up now."

Barely registering the words all you can think of is the teenage boy hell-bent on protecting his brother from your father's rage, the way that he would always tell you that it was nothing personal as he dropped you home whilst Tommy would let you stew in silence, feeling worse than you ever thought possible.

"I thought maybe I could spare five minutes and celebrate with you."

You're unprepared to come up with a lie, the truth slipping before you can catch it, "I'm not home."

"Where? Didn't say you were going out," he says and you fight the urge to reply that he didn't ask as you bend the truth.

"I met an old friend for coffee," your cheeks heat trying to think of a name you're unlikely to forget and John's aunt is the first to mind. "Remember Polly? She was at our wedding," she definitely wasn't but he had as little do with planning your marriage as he does maintain it.

"Yeah, I remember her," liar. "Well be safe, yeah? Some right weirdos hanging around."

"Okay I've got to go - parking wardens coming," it feels like routine to try and slip from the call, your foot restarting the motor automatically as he says goodbye, trying to drown out the lies of 'I love you'.

Your foot eases off of the clutch as soon as the screen shows it's disconnected the call and your head that would usually be cushioned by the stitching of the wheels cover now hits the metal logo in its centre too hard where you haven't returned the seat to its usual position. The tight space blurs out your scream, echoing around your car but gaining as little attention as your own outburst when it fades.

What mess have you got yourself into?

---

John doesn't even have time to greet the staff as he's ushered to Tommy's office by a harried-looking Finn, the younger boys language more than a little colourful when he curses out the inspector that seems to have declared war, "The boys say it was fucking brutal - Arthur tried to fight back but the coppers got a few blows in. Tommy says they got lucky - fucking lucky they had handcuffs more like otherwise Arthur would have fucking had 'em all."

"Alright, Finn," John's handclaps against his brothers back roughly. "We'll get it sorted."

The door to Tommy's office is ajar, Polly's voice spilling out as she asks how they could have been so stupid to get their own hands dirty. "I get it, Pol, we messed up."

"Messed up is not realising you've buttoned your bloody shirt wrong, not getting thrown in the nick, Thomas!"

His brother looks up in relief as John walks into the room, his keys and wallet tossed to one side as he strides towards Tommy's desk and the battle plans he knows will be getting drawn up. "What happened?"