Angel of Death // TommyShelbyX[O/C]

Chapter 6 - You Birmingham people.

(A/N: This was one of my favorite scenes from season 2, so writing around it was so much fun, I tied in a lot of the original dialogue to tie in the fic with the series a bit more. Hope you enjoy. Much love. <3)

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After tasting some of the brown 'bread' that Mr Solomons graciously offered us we make our way to his office. We stroll through the dark mahogany double doors when, suddenly, I feel Tommy grab my arm, pulling me towards his towering frame. He whispers in my ear gently, a contrast from the aggressiveness of his actions beforehand.

"Remember what I said, you will stand in the corner and listen, do not say a word, am I clear?"

I take a deep breath as my eyes scan the details of the dark office when Tommy pulls my arm harshly.

"Am I clear?" His expression is stony and serious, I nod.

When Tommy releases his grip on my arm I walk towards the corner of the room, standing beside a table covered in bottles and glasses. Tommy sits in the chair opposite from Alfie, a large desk scattered with papers separating them.

Alfie looks towards me in the corner and tuts loudly.

"Ollie!" He yells, waving his hand in the air. "Bring in another chair for Mr Shelby's lovely secretary."

As Ollie rushes to grab another chair Alfie lowers his voice.

"We can't do business with you stood all the way over there darlin', can we?" He smiles at me then looks towards Tommy, raising his eyebrows.

Ollie rushes in and places the wooden chair next to Tommy's, Alfie waves his hand towards it and gestures for me to take a seat, I nod, plastering a slight smile on my face, and sit down. I could sense that Tommy's frustration with Alfie was growing.

Alfie clears his throat as he slumps into his plush chair, looking at us for a few silent moments.

"Well." He clasps his hands together on the desk, leaning forward. "I've heard very bad, bad, bad things about you Birmingham people." He tuts again.

"You're gypsies, right?"

As Tommy is about to speak Alfie interrupts him.

"So what do you live in a fucking tent or a caravan?"

Tommy lights a cigarette and takes a small drag, formulating a calm response.

"I came here to discuss business with you, Mr Solomons."

Alfie claps his hand loudly and picks up the bottle of rum on the table.

"Well, rum is for fun and fucking, isn't it?" He says, an eyebrow raised at Tommy before he glances towards me and shoots a wink in my direction.

"So, whiskey, now that is for business."

He places a bottle of whiskey on the desk in the place of the discarded bottle of rum.

"Let's talk first, eh?" Tommy intervenes, clouds of smoke protruding from his mouth.

Alfie pauses, scratching his beard. There is a moment of silence as Tommy and Alfie glare at each other, I play with the hem of my navy dress nervously.

Alfie picks up the bottle of whiskey and puts it back in the drawer.

"Suit yourself."

Alfie leans back in his chair, his gaze fixed on me. Tommy notices my uneasiness, the hem to my dress is being destroyed as I pick at it nervously. Tommy clears his throat and raises his voice to subvert Alfie's attention.

"Mr Solomons, I understand that you are at war with Sabini."

Alfie grumbles. His gaze unwavering.

"And you are losing."

Alfie's head instantly snaps to face Tommy. My hands speed up, the tension increasing, I feel like I can't breathe. I look at Tommy, concerned.

"And what fucking business is that of yours?" Alfie snaps back after a tense few moments, making me jump slightly.

Tommy places his hand subtly over mine, resting on my leg. This instantly calms me down and my whole body relaxes. This provided me with the reassurance I needed.

"Mr Solomons. Your distillery provides one tenth of your income. Protection is another ten percent and the rest you make from the race tracks. I know you keep a gun in the drawer I know you keep it beside the whiskey. I know you offer a deal or death."

Alfie is stunned, and so am I. Tommy has gained the upper hand. Alfie grumbles as he glares at Tommy, he looks as if he is imagining killing Tommy right here in front of me.

"I know what I am saying makes you angry. But I am offering you a solution."

Alfie slumps back in his chair again, stroking his beard.

"You see, Mr Sabini is running all your bookies off your courses, and he is closing down the premises that take your rum. And people don't trust your protection anymore."

Alfie clears his throat and raises his hand, pointing a finger at Tommy.

"You're the bloke that shot Billy Kimber, right? You did you fucking shot him, that's you."

Tommy remains silent. Alfie lowers his hand. I place my free hand over Tommy's hoping to make him feel less stressed and to calm him down, Alfie was cunning and could rile up anyone, and my god did he know how to push all the right buttons with Tommy.

"You fucking betrayed him mate, so it would be entirely appropriate for me to do what I'm thinking in my head to do to you right now."

Alfie's hand moves over toward's the drawer, pulling out a gun. He stands, cocking the gun and pointing it at Tommy. My hands clamp around his, squeezing it.

"Let's say I just fucking shot you right now, cause I could."

Tommy remains silent, but I can't stand the tension, fully aware that Alfie is capable of killing Tommy right now. I speak up, going against Tommy's direct orders. My voice is loud and confident, but my hands are shaking as I release Tommy's hand from my grip.

"Mr Solomons, we have 350 good men, all armed, in fit fighting shape, army trained. These men will follow Mr Shelby's direct orders and could be of great use in your efforts against Sabini, what isn't useful is a fucking corpse, put the gun down."

They both look at me in shock, but before they can reply I speak again.

"If you want Sabini's head on a fucking silver platter then your only hope is with our help, and trust me, no one wants that bastard dead more than me."

Alfie lowers the gun slowly and it feels like I can finally breathe again.

"Alright, darlin'." He looks at me in a way that makes me feel like he can see through me.

"Why don't you tell me about your little plan." He sits back down slowly.

"But first, how about you cut the bullshit and tell me the truth. Who the fuck are you, cause you are not a fucking secretary."

I sit up straight, my voice loud and confident, a single eyebrow raised.

"My surname is Warren."

"Of course it is." Alfie grumbles back.