Trailing Alfie || Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader One-Shot (Peaky Blinders Fanfic)

Trailing Alfie

Tracking down Alfred Solomons Jr. had been as difficult as you'd expected. But with a little help from Thomas Shelby, who failed to notice you following him to Margate, you located the seaside resort where your target resided.

As a freelance hit-woman, the only thing that interested you was the price the proprietor was willing to pay. The richer the bounty, the easier it was for you to not ask questions. All you needed was a name, and the execution remained simple. In, kill, out.

So when you found Solomons alone and distracted by seagulls, you lifted the gun up to the back of his head and uncocked the safety.

"Must be witless to pull a gun on me, mate."

You paused.

"No one has called me witless before. Especially not someone facing the barrel of my gun."

"A madam, then," he said once he heard your feminine voice. "Well, lass, your problem, right? Your problem is that I'm not really facing your fucken gun."

You knew what was coming next; he was going to try snatching the firearm from you, so you had to react quickly. But he was just as fast, and he was able to snag the weapon. You did shoot him, though. A bullet scraped his shoulder, and he groaned about it for a short bit.

"You fucken bitch." Even with a wounded arm, Solomons managed to slap you to the ground before hastily dropping down next to you to shake out a confession. "Who the fuck are you, eh?"

His nails dug into your skin, and you sobbed a bit dramatically to get him to loosen his grip; it didn't work.

"You're hurting me!" you whined.

"Tell me who the fuck you are, and I'll consider sparing your pathetic life."

"My name is F/N L/N. I'm a hit-woman."

"Never heard of you."

"That's the fucking point, isn't?" you japed, which only caused him to jerk you around harder. "Ow!" you wept.

"Who sent you?" he demanded. "Tell me who fucken sent you, you fucken imbecile."

"I don't know."

"Don't lie to me!" he warned.

"I swear!" you persisted. "I don't ask questions. I just show up and kill. I can give you a description of the man who contacted me, but I doubt he's the ringleader. That's all I can do."

You detected the contemplation in his hectic expression, his one good eye darting between your facial features in an attempt to identify you within his past memories. He drew a blank; you could tell by his complete loss of words.

Yanking you off the floor, Solomons dragged you into a chair and tied your wrists and ankles onto the frame. He paced while unloading the pistol's cylinder. The sound of the ammunition ricocheting against the pavement rang obnoxiously in your ears, which made you realize that he had smacked you with greater force than you'd estimated.

"What are you going to do?" you asked.

"Shut it."

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Well, I should, shouldn't I? You woulda had my head back there."

"If it's any consolation," you said, "it's nothing personal. I was just doing my job. I'm sure a successful gangster such as yourself could understand that."

"Thought you didn't ask any questions."

"I did some research. I had to trace you somehow."

You sized up each other to calculate strengths and weakness. The two shortcomings that were apparent to you was his blind eye and a slight limp. You stored those details for later and wondered what he had exposed about you.