Chapter 32

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I wake up alone.

Scrambling to my feet in the dark and terrified I've missed it, I don't even notice the glass bottle of water until I've knocked it over. It falls to the ground with a clink, and begins to spill.

Bemused, I pick up the bottle and sniff it cautiously. It's water. Lightly iced.

And then I see the buttercups tied together with twine, lying flat on the ground. I run them through my hands.

And then I'm pissed.

"Thomas Shelby, I'm going to fucking kill you," I growl.

I emerge from the tent, ready to start shooting bullets in every direction, job be damned. But then I see Tommy smoking a cigarette beside a thicket of trees ahead, looking out to the road.

"What the fuck is that?" I ask, storming over to him.

He turns to me with eyebrows raised. I snatch the cigarette from his lips and throw it to the ground.

"Morning, Bancroft," he says.

"Why are you leaving me water, and—and fucking buttercups?" I ask, folding my arms across my chest.

He's perfectly calm. Infuriatingly so. "Because you don't drink enough," he says. "And because you said they're your favourite."

I clench my jaw. "You know what else."

"Do I?" He asks, lightly amused.

"Yes."

He pulls another cigarette from his pack and lights it. "I'm afraid I haven't a clue what you're talking about. Care to enlighten me? Particularly as it's got you so enraged?"

"Don't play games with me, Tommy."

"As much as I want to discuss the thoughtful gifts I've been leaving you, I'm afraid this conversation will have to wait," he says. He gestures with his cigarette to the road beyond the trees. "They'll be coming along any minute now."

I bite my tongue. I'm still seething with fury, but annoyingly, it begins to dissipate as the sky lightens a shade. The Trojans were too far. But could it be... the water and flowers, could they truly be because he cares?

"Headlights," he says. His cigarette falls to the ground. "Ready?"

I nod. I've got the plan committed to memory. Now I just need to not fuck it up.

I walk out to the middle of the road. The two circles of light disappear as the horse truck dips down the road, before re-emerging as the road rises again. We wait until they're close enough. I raise my head, and look at where Tommy's standing, on the other side of the road and three metres to the right.

So he doesn't shoot me by accident.

Three gunshots ring out into the night, and I drop on clue, falling to the rough gravel. The stones scrape across my legs, my shoulder, where I fall. But I lie motionless.

Just as we've planned, the truck comes to a screeching halt. The doors open. My ears prickle, though I keep my eyes half-shut.

Footsteps crunch across the stone. We wait until they're too close to escape.

I shoot to my feet, drawing my gun and aiming it at the men, their outlines visible through the headlights. I expect the click of their weapons, to move into the next stage of our plan, but it doesn't come. They were stupid enough to leave their guns in the truck.

And they really thought they could outsmart the Peaky Blinders.

"Morning, boys," Tommy says, walking to join us. "Hope your drive's been alright. Horse truck given you much trouble?"

"Who... who the fuck are you," one man spits.

Thomas blinks before answering. "I'm Thomas fucking Shelby. And that's my truck, my guns, and my horses you've got. Now, be good boys, get off the road and get down on your knees. We might even let you live."

"Doesn't fucking matter," one man spits. "We've got more—"

"More trucks? More horses? Yes, I know. I've got men blocking every road out of Birmingham. I'd rather not clean up an extra pair of corpses, but I will if I must." Thomas loads a bullet into the chamber. "So, gentlemen. What'll it be?"

It takes only a few moments for them to make the smart choice, and step over to the side of the road, arms raised above their heads.

"Smartest decision you've made all night," Tommy tells them.

He glances at me and we walk to the truck. I shove my gun into my coat pocket. Adrenaline hammers through me, surging through my veins with each beat of my heart. I can't believe we've gotten away with it.

And then two gunshots cut through the night air.

I instinctively duck as I turn around, and Tommy reaches out for me, covering me as I crouch down until we're sure the gunshots have stopped. My breathing quickens.

The gang men slump over, shot dead.

An Irish voice cuts through the dark. "So sorry about that, Mr Shelby."

I stand shakily to my feet. Three men approach us now, all of them larger than the two we'd just apprehended. And all of them a lot fucking smarter.

All of them with guns.

"Hope they weren't friends of yours," the man says. "I'd hate to cause any offence."

"How thoughtful of you," says Tommy.

The man grins, his metal teeth visible in the light. I recognise him — McGuffin's right hand man. The others are his, too. I feel the ghost of the cold blade pressed against my throat.

"Give us the girl, and we'll let you live," the man says. "McGuffin's willing to put your feud to rest. Consider it a payment."

"A payment," Tommy repeats, musing the word. "And how much is it you think Bancroft here's worth? Go on," he says, wrapping an arm around my waist. "I promise you, you won't cause any offence, since you're so worried about your manners."

The man twirls his gun in his hand. "Name your price."

"Well, as things stand, she's worth ten thousand pounds. So we'll call it an even ten thousand. Eh?"

The man nods slowly. "We'll do you five thousand now, the other five once she's in McGuffin's custody."

Custody? My hands tremble but I push them deeper into my coat pockets. My fingers are closed around the gun.

"How do I know you won't fuck us?" Tommy asks.

"Because we don't want you or your brothers coming after her," the man says. "You go back and tell them about our arrangement. That's why we're letting you live."

"Smart plan." Tommy nods. He glances at me. "Now, be a good girl and go with them. Don't make me force you."

I understand why this needs to happen. And so I unleash the genuine fear that's been building inside of me. "No, no you can't."

"Don't make this difficult for yourself," Tommy sighs.

"Please, no." I grip him by the suit jacket. "Don't do this. I'll give you the money I have, I'll hand it all over, I'll just—"

Tommy presses his pistol to my head. "You fucking go now."

The other men walk forward, clearly to assist in the handover. I sniff, bringing my hands to my head and burying my face. I keep up the ruse until the last possible minute, when I feel Tommy stop breathing beside me.

That's when I shoot.

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