Kimber's Daughter - Tommy Shelby x Reader Fan Fic

Chapter 43

My father was finally allowed to have visitors.

"Just wait until they get me in a court," he seethed. "There's not a fucking case against me in all of England, and they know it. That's why they're delaying it so long. All bent fucking coppers."

"We're working really hard on your case," I told him.  "Roberts especially."

Father nodded. "Good man, is Roberts. And how's the business doing?"

"Fine." I stiffened for a moment. "Half a million in pocket from Warwick."

He laughed. "That all? Rough weekend."

"Thomas Shelby is trying to negotiate." Better to rip off the plaster, and better my father hear it from me and not anyone else. "He wants ten percent of Cheltenham."

"Ten percent?" Father snorted. "Those Peaky fuckers would piss themselves with excitement for five. I hope you told them to fuck off. Or better yet, put a bullet in them."

"I'm working on it." I swallowed. "Father, you... you know I had nothing to do with you being in here. Right?"

Father stiffened. We hadn't spoken about that day. We both pretended it had never happened, as though he had accidentally stumbled into this prison cell and I had no idea how. As though I hadn't been about to marry the enemy. Which made me either weak or a traitor. Either would have me killed, if the Boys didn't fear my father's retaliation.

"Just stick to the story, girl." He cleared his throat. "Look... some of this is my fault. I should have stormed Small Heath for you the second they took you, I just... I was busy, and then with all this Sabini shit, I couldn't lose the men, and... I'm sorry."

"Maybe things would have turned out differently," I said quietly.

"I know I've not been a great father. Which wouldn't have been so bad, except your mother is a shit mother," he sighed. "I can't really blame you for jumping ship when you got the chance."

We sat in silence for a moment.

"My boys tell me you're doing a good job," he continued. "Almost as good as me, they say."

"I doubt it."

"No word of a lie. How about... how about once I'm out of here, we get you more involved permanently. Make you a partner. What do you reckon?"

"I don't know what to say," I replied in disbelief.

"You can handle the business in Birmingham. I'll take care of London. Between us, we'll have all the races in England, and them Peakies can go fuck themselves."

"They're not all so bad, Father," I said quickly. "You'd get on with them. In business, at least. John and Arthur treated me well."

Father eyed me curiously for a moment. "Just this Tommy bloke, then?"

"Yes." My jaw tightened. "Just him."

"Alright, then. When the time comes, you kill him yourself. And make sure it hurts. Yeah?"

***

I sat in the drawing room of the Birmingham mansion that night, signing insurance documents in the soft glow of a lamp. Two jockeys and one horse had been injured and needed replacing with only twenty-four hours notice. I reached for a glass of whisky. Wine gave me headaches the next morning. And seeing Tommy again had made me realise I was stronger than I thought. Strong enough to stomach whiskey and not think of him.

Michael knocked on the already-ajar door as he entered.

"What are you still doing here?" I asked, trying to blink away my bleary eyes. "It's gone ten."

"Could ask you the same thing," he said.

I let out a soft laugh. "It never ends. At some stage I'll have to stop and let the work rollover to tomorrow. And then tomorrow the cycle will begin again."

"I don't think I've seen you do anything other than work," he said.

"What else is there to do?" I asked.

"I hear you like to ride horses."

I stiffened. "Where did you hear that?"

Michael blinked. "I'm not sure. One of the boys mentioned it in passing, I think. I was eavesdropping."

"I've never ridden here. I've never been allowed."

Michael shifted his weight between his feet. "Apologies, Miss. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset."

I narrowed my eyes. Surely my father had a private investigator. I wondered if I could have Michael tailed, or if I was just underslept and over-paranoid.

"I'm getting my words all wrong tonight." He gave an awkward smile, briefcase in hand. "I'm going to the pub with a few friends. Wondered if you'd like to come."

I dropped my pen in surprise. "To the pub? With you?"

"It's a group situation," he replied. "Very casual. I can catch Grubs, if you want to come. He's still awake."

I thought for a moment. It's not as though I'd be doing anything more interesting or more peaceful here, and I was beginning to feel a little cooped up. Maybe a social evening would be just what I needed. My father certainly never shied away from nights out. It was important, he said, to be seen. Remind people why they needed to obey you.

"Alright," I decided. "But don't disturb Grubs. I'm sure I can survive without him for an hour or two."

I slipped my pistol into my coat pocket before we left.