The peaky blinders kidnap Billy Kimber's daughter for ransom. But Tommy gets more than he bargained for when he falls in love.
Will get spicy in the future. Enemies to lovers. Fake dating.
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I never thought I'd be so happy to see John and Arthur Shelby.
They wasted no time getting Tommy into the back of the other car, though he had no patience for pity from either of them. I climbed in beside him and we drove into Small Heath. John removed his shirt when Tommy's bleeding soaked through the other.
"Can't believe you survived the whole of France just to get shot not three miles from home, eh, Tom?" John joked.
"Who was it?" Arthur asked as he drove.
"Kimber's men." Tommy's face was drained of all colour, his voice hoarse.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as the Shelby brothers digested this news.
"How did they know where you were?"
"Might have had lookouts through the county," Arthur mumbled.
Tommy jerked his head. "He joined us from the south."
"Durand," I whispered. "He must have called my father."
Tommy tilted his head, his mouth a thin line. "Are you saying our little friend from the hotel did this?"
"I... I don't know."
We were all silent for a moment. "Don't suppose it matters now," said John, as we rounded the corner of the city streets and came to the house. "What's done is done. Come on, Tom, let's get you inside."
When Polly saw the state of her nephew, carried by his brothers, she shrieked and dropped the glass she was holding.
"Get the doctor here, Pol," said Arthur. "Quick as you can."
***
I sat outside the door to the dining room. I'd seen only a glimpse of Tommy as they laid him down on the table. Now he was heavily sedated, or so Arthur had told Polly and me, while the doctor operated on the wound. My fists were clenched so tightly, my nails left half-crescent moons of blood on my palms.
"We can't let the others find out about this," Polly said quietly.
"Do you mean Ada?" I asked.
She sighed. "No, I don't mean bloody Ada. I mean the men who work for us."
"It might be a bit late for that." I recalled the faces that saw us pull through Small Heath, Tommy bleeding in the back seat.
"You best hope not," Polly said grimly, "or they'll be off to kill your father without pausing to see if Tommy's dead or alive."
She tapped her foot quietly against the floor. I couldn't stand the waiting, the not knowing. Tommy was tough, tough enough to hold a conversation, tough enough to speak sardonically about dying while he bled out. But was he tough enough to survive this?
"You'll need to choose a side, you know," Polly said quietly. "I don't know exactly what your relationship is with Tommy. But sooner than later, you're going to have to choose. Him or your father. And one of them will die. If he hasn't already," she muttered.
