THE FRENCH KISSERS ― Thomas Shelby

26. in the bleak midwinter

"You're right, I'm a Rose." She fished a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, flicking the case open and offering it to the Shelbys. Two eager hands darted for it, and once Thomas' brothers had shoved the cigarettes into their greedy mouths she moved the pack to Michael, holding his gelid, blank stare. Finally, slowly, he took one cigarette out, leaving it loose on his fingers. Rose flicked the case close. "And if I'm a whore, it's only because I tend to fuck with people's lives."

Arthur let out a hearty laugh. It came out rough and hoarse, as if he hadn't laughed in a long time, as if his voice had barely been used at all.

"I like this one, eh, Tommy? Keep her around, will ya?"

"That's what I intend to do, yes," Thomas said, curt and poignant, like always. Like the way he had cracked Rose's ribs to get to her wounded heart. "And if you call her whore once more I'll throw you back inside those gates with no thoughts of ever getting you out."

Biting hard on her lip to hide a smile, Rose watched as Arthur and Johnny shared a panicked, almost comical look. Michael just narrowed his eyes, tilting his head as if to look at Rose in a different light. Rose wondered if Thomas was aware – that he might have a wolf lurking around that hid his true skin by behaving as a docile sheep.

A step away from her, Johnny kept staring at her mouth, licking his own lips as if that would give him a taste.

"I wouldn't try if I were you." Rose's voice had a seducing, dangerous lilt to it, like a siren crooning men away, luring them into their sweet demise. "With me, a kiss is always two letters away from kill."

With a jerk of his head, Arthur choked on his cigarette. Johnny coughed, smoke billowing from his blown nostrils. Michael simply chuckled, dry and condescending.

"A fookin' French Kisser?" Arthur's eyes widened, the white making him look even paler. His hair was a messy nest, disheveled and dirty, his moustache ungroomed. "Tommy, what have you gotten yourself into?"

Thomas brushed his nose, the way he always did to hide a smile. He was looking at Rose when he said, "I ask myself the same thing."

"There's a man inside who's also a Kisser," Johnny said, gesturing towards the prison. He was now looking at everywhere but Rose, his fingers shaking slightly. It made Rose feel good knowing the Kissers were spoken of and feared even in prisons; after all, they'd put many of the men there themselves. "Good lad, good lad. Had a weird accent, alright, but some funny stories about France."

Rose's heart stung. Did Nicolas look as dead and done as they did? She promised him she would get him out but she still hadn't found a way to do it. She knew how Thomas had gotten the Shelbys out, but that was his family. He wouldn't do the same for Nicolas, and she didn't dare ask. He'd already helped her enough, and she didn't want to make her debt to him any bigger. Plus, Nicolas wouldn't like being indebted to him either.

"And a common dislike towards Thomas, which we happened to share," Michael spoke for the first time. His voice chilled Rose's bones, set her on alert; she'd have to be careful with this one. There was an edge to him that set him apart from the others, who barked but never bit. Not like Michael, who seemed to be all bite and no bark. "Arthur, Johnny, why won't you go ahead? I have something to say to Thomas."

"Alright, alright, just don't kill him, yeah? Leave that to yar mother!" Arthur chirped, smacking him hard on the back. Then he stumbled towards Rose, but Thomas caught him before he could get too close, keeping him firmly in place. "Hope to see you again, eh? Pretty flower."

Rose smiled, gently; Thomas shoved him away, harshly. Johnny trotted behind him, but not before snatching the cigarette pack from Rose's hand and throwing her a wink.