Another Shelby

Who Says You're Not A Shelby

Changretta grinned, "If only you'd taken the deal, doll face. You and I could have been happy, living it up in New York—and the vermin you call family, would'a been safe."
He chewed his toothpick as he stared her up and down, grinning again, "Now your mine, and I don't care if your happy'bout it. I'mma take yuh back to New York whether yup like it or not, and you best fake a smile."
Her boys stilled behind her at the threat.
The Italian pursed his lips dramatically, uncaring or unawares, "Oh, and I'm also gunna eradicate the vermin."
Lilah only sneered back over the rim of her glass.
    "Honestly I'm glad. You finally realized-- after four long years that nothing in this world, and no amount of fucking money could ever get me within a yard of your unclothed cock. You mad shit."
    The only sound in the silence that followed, as she downed what was left of her whiskey, was the sound of Finn's barely concealed snort.
    She smacked the sugary residue on her lips before giving the glass a toss, and letting it shatter on the new polished wood floor as the club's doors swung shut behind her.
    Only then, did the yelling start.
    She made her way to the car. Her boys close on her heals as she slid into the smooth leather passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind her.
    Snatching a match from the glove compartment, she lit two cigarettes as Tommy glided in next to her. The leather squeaking as he slid the random filled briefcase in between them.
    Neither spoke, as she leaned to slip one of the lit cigarettes between his lips while he reached to start the car; his mouth pliant and soft as he caught it from her fingers. Only a subtle nod to thank her, though she paid it no mind.
    She stared straight ahead, knowing without seeing what was going on in the drivers seat next to her. His hand running through his already mussed hair. The stressed bob of Tommy's throat. The barely controlled anger in the tight set of his jaw.
    He inhaled long and slow resting his head back on the leather seat, hands wringing the life from the steering wheel as the car roared to life. The back seat doors opened behind them, and Finn and Isaiah slid in. John's car rumbled to a start a space behind them.
   Tommy knuckles continued to whiten.
    But, again she paid him no mind. He could broil in his rage.
    She was quite calm in her own fury. Calmer than she was in her moments of peace. She felt like how Esme looked before she was about to snap.
    But she had.
    She had snapped, even if just a little, and she felt good in her anger, justified and righteous.
    She felt like wrath itself.
    And she stared at a small playground in the distance, at the chipped wooden swing swaying in the pre-storm wind, as the men spoke around her, all but Tommy.
    She been successful.
    Even though he may not have liked the change of plans.
    The point of the meeting had been to draw Changretta's attention elsewhere - from the vulnerable children of the family.
    And his anger was now, very pointedly, directed her way. They'd move the children tomorrow night as planned. Or soon. Maybe she could go to the market 'alone' and draw his attention further. Knowing Changretta, he'd hardly be able to resist.
  He'd pounce, and then, on top of getting the children out they'd likely be able to take out a few of his men.

    Tommy was unmoving next to her. Still quiet and stewing in his anger.
    Eventually, though The air grew thick in the car as the storm Polly had predicted drew closer, and she pulled the cigarette from her mouth.
    "We should go," Was all she said, but the car immediately rumbled into a cruise without acknowledgement or question.
    The ride, after her short statement was utterly quiet. Not somber or peaceful. But thoughtful.
    Plotting.
    None of them liked that he'd threatened her. That male-ness of her Shelby boys like a switch that'd been ticked to life. He's threatened one of their women.
    She'd seen six sets of hands reaching for guns when she'd turned, and had too make light of it to keep a fire-fight from destroying the bar and the ten innocent patrons hiding behind said bar, and under the tables around the room.
    It would have been a blood bath. They may have won, but with the amount of innocent life lost... there weren't enough crooked judges between them. They'd have hung.
    She wasn't offended over their protectiveness though, oddly enough.
    He'd threatened one of her men today too, and she'd nearly unloaded his own pistol on him.
    She glanced over at the man, who he had threatened.
    Tommy's fist was utterly white  on the steering wheel, clenching and unclenching as the sky opened up above them.
    His other hand lay protectively across the seat behind her, cigarette reflecting off the passenger window next to her far shoulder.
    When that protective arm had slithered there, she didn't know, but she watched him draw it away stiffly only to bring the cigarette to his mouth for a short drag before quickly dropping it back into place.
    His breathing was slow and steady as his eyes, pale in the eerie streetlight—flickered around the alleys and road for any movement...any threat.

*NOT BETA-EDITED...LIKE AT ALL.*