Kimber's Daughter - Tommy Shelby x Reader Fan Fic

Chapter 8

"The usual," Tommy said to somebody as we entered the Garrison. He turned to me with raised eyebrows as I lingered by the door, eyes roaming the pub.

"The same," I said absent-mindedly, trying to take in every detail of the establishment's layout. Just in case.

"I'll bring it right through," an Irish voice said from behind the bar.

My head snapped to the speaker, a blonde woman pouring drinks. She met my gaze and I could instantly read her like a book. Guilt, fresh across her face. Suspicious. I'd gotten good at reading people over the years spent with my father and his men. My father himself I'd studied immensely. One small twitch of his eyebrow, one palm turned forty-five degrees, could mean the difference between life and death. Add that skill to the obvious — no woman this sweet would want to work in a bar in Birmingham. Not with the risks that came with it. She was either a total idiot, or considered herself more dangerous than any of these men, wearing a disguise.

"Theough here," Tommy murmured, picking our drinks up from the counter and leading us to a private room off the side.

The Irish woman snapped her gaze away and served somebody else. The pub was busy, busier than I'd have expected for late morning. I kept Tommy's gun concealed in the folds of my dress as I followed him into the private room. He locked the door.

"Who's she?" I asked once we had sat down, I kept the gun in my right hand, in my lap. I accepted my drink with my left. The whiskey left a burning trail down my throat, searing through my flesh. It was exactly what I needed.

"Our new bar-maid," Tommy said flatly.

I chose to push the issue further. "And what are you doing with her?"

He raised an eyebrow. "She's not involved in any further business, with the Blinders or with me personally."

I narrowed my gaze at him. "You do realise what she is, don't you?" He chose not to reply, but did not break eye contact as he lit a cigarette. "Oh my god. You don't even know." I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my throat. "I had it figured out in about three seconds, and it's been under your nose for... how long, now?"

I could see the battle in Tommy's mind as he clenched his jaw. His indifferent side fighting with his curiosity. "What don't I know?" He finally asked.

I shook my head, downed some more of my drink. "It'll be rather good fun to watch you be your own undoing, Shelby."

"So you're planning to hang around, then?" He asked. "And watch?"

"I like Birmingham," I said sharply. "I like my home. I have no interest in America."

"And what is it you like about your home, eh? The father who couldn't care less about your well-being? The risk of being kidnapped, or worse, by one of his enemies?"

"I've endured both now." I squared my shoulders. "I'm still breathing. And I still like Birmingham."

"Interesting." Trails of cigarette smoke whirled through the air. "I'm glad to hear you say that, Kimber. Very glad indeed."

My blood cooled in anticipation. Of what, I was not yet sure.

"That means Polly owes me one pound," Tommy sighed, retrieving the paper ticket from his pocket once more. He ripped it into shreds. "Not that she agreed to the bet, of course. But I told her you'd refuse. It's the least she owes me for my wasted time and effort, when you could still be hostage in the dining room."

I sucked in a breath. "Am I not anymore?"

Tommy raised his eyebrows, pale eyes catching the light filtering through the window. "I believe you have my gun. Is a hostage still a hostage, if she is armed?"

"That depends on your definition of the word hostage," I countered. "Is it about location, or power?"

He considered my words for a moment then shifted, tugging at his blazer. "I believe we can come to an understanding."

"And I believe it's a bit late for that," I glowered. "After you chained me to a bed."

"Handcuffed," he corrected. "And while I see your point, if you are so unwilling to cooperate, why are you still here with me and not miles away by now?"

I floundered for an answer. He leant back in his seat, a small look of satisfaction on his face.

"Because I need you in my sight," I grumbled unconvincingly. "You might pull another gun on me at any moment. It's purely self-preservation."

"You'll be most pleased with what I have to say, in that case."

"I doubt it," I muttered, but Tommy kept speaking anyway.

"How would you like to establish yourself in the crime world?" He asked. "Build an empire that rivals even your father's? Have all the money you want?" I stared at him with raised eyebrows, but he shrugged. "Maybe you're not interested at all. And if that's the case, very well, but you're shit out of luck here. You return back to my house, Arthur or Polly will cuff you back to that table."

My wrists tensed, the ghosts of handcuffs still feeling tight around them. The metal of the gun was cool against my palms. "I'm listening."

"Do you want power, Kimber?"

I took a long, slow breath. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Not like you and me." He shook his head. "I can see it in your eyes. You've got the same hunger for it that I have."

"Very well then. What's the catch, Shelby? Must I live in a caravan? Endure a gypsy curse?"

If I wasn't mistaken, his lips twitched at my taunting. "A simple business transaction."

"I don't have any control over my father's affairs," I said. "If-"

He waved his whiskey glass in dismissal. "I'm not interested in your father. I'm interested in you."

I waited. Silence hung in the room for a moment. Thomas Shelby's face creased in hesitation, each angle still lit in the morning sun. It occurred to me how very beautiful this man was, how if we had been different people meeting in a different pub under different circumstances, I might find myself very interested in him indeed. My eyes flickered across his lips, his jaw, the muscles in his neck.

"My family feel it is necessary I should marry," he said. He swallowed, last traces of any emotion gone with it. "They believe we need an alliance with another gang. However, I have nothing to offer a wife. I will not feel for her, will not love her, will not grant her children. I don't want to disappoint a good woman who expects those things of a marriage."

"And I suppose you want me to talk to your family," I rolled my eyes. "Tell them just how important these things are to a woman, beg them to listen to you?"

"No." Thomas looked me in the eyes. "I want to marry you."