VIOLENT DELIGHTS | TOMMY SHELBY

CHAPTER FOUR

The Brooks were grateful for being early risers the morning the police stormed into their home and threw them onto the gravel streets.

Birdie was naturally the first to protest, ignoring the harsh stones embedding into her bare skin. She clambered to stand and marched back in to confront the uniformed men inside their home. All around her, men and women were being restrained and attacked.

"Birdie!" Noah groaned after her, hardly surprised. He sat with his wrists raised, desperate to prove his innocence.

Birdie, alight with fury, brandished her hands as she stormed into her home. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

She knew every copper in Small Heath, but was unfamiliar with the one that heard her bellow. His eyes were colder, his stance sharper. This seemed like a man who could fight a dozen Birdies with his eyes closed and emerge the sole victor. But Birdie, being the resilient criminal she was, challenged his hateful gaze with a single rise of her chin.

The policeman not rifling through their drawers and upturning their furniture strode towards her. His hands ghosted over the baton attached to his hip, his fingers stretching as he prepared himself for a fight. Every move he made was silent, as though he wanted the anticipation to maim the woman before he had to. Birdie stood still, the only action she took was slightly raising her chin as the man grew larger.

When they were inches apart he grabbed her by the shoulder, his grip rough and unsteadying. Birdie stumbled at the force of the hand, but tried to plant herself as firmly as possible. This incited the officer to shove her back outside the front door. Birdie struggled, but in seconds she was thrown back onto the pavement. The officer swung his baton from its holster and Noah leapt to throw an arm over Birdie.

"Weapon down, McPhee." An Irish accent sliced through the vicious stare-off, the cop stepping back at the sound. He nodded quickly at the well-dressed man, avoiding Birdie's eyes.

"Yes, Inspector Campbell." was all he said, before calling for his colleague and joining the raid of the next house. With Noah's help, Birdie was back on her feet the second the men were gone. They ran to collect the belongings that had been thrown outside with them.

Even after she had scrambled inside to retrieve her rehearsal bag, its contents still intact bar her pointe shoes on the floor, Inspector Campbell was still waiting outside their home. Birdie nodded once at the man, ready to go about her day when she felt a hand enclose around her forearm. Veins froze over as Birdie's heart stopped momentarily, and her breathing got slightly faster.

"Bridget Brooks. A lying activist who's spent more time behind bars than on the stage." The Inspector's tone was cruel, yet his pitch unbelievably mellow. As though he had been dealing with criminals for decades and could seize control with a single whisper.

"Excuse me?" Birdie spoke, growing cold at the use of her real name. She faced the Inspector as she faced all members of the law; with a raised chin and unforgiving eyes.

"I know who you are. My associates never seem to run out of stories about you." He said. His eyes were beady as he examined her.

"Well, tell your associates that they have better things to do than discuss than my past." Birdie retorted. She could have folded her arms, stared him down until he was begging at her knees. She prided herself on the one instance when that had actually occurred. The steeliness of Inspector Campbell's gaze didn't shift an inch.

"Stay out of trouble, Ms Brooks. Don't want to see your face behind bars again." was all he said, tipping his hat towards her before striding back towards his horse. Birdie growled, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.