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fightevilandthengetblownup · 5 years ago

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Red Right Hand VI

(warning in this one)

—

The convoy towards Chelthenham had left before dawn with three canvas trucks and the shiny black car bringing up the rear. Jeffrey and his boys spread throughout the trucks, with cards and drinks a plenty to keep them entertained and prepared for the day ahead.

Michael bit down a smirk as he listened to the bickering coming from the seat behind him, one hand on the wheel and one with his cigarette. The dark haired man beside him was groaning and speaking as quietly as possible to try to amuse and appease the frustrated girl in the back seat.

“Ye didnay say we’d have to get up this early, Jackson.” “What did you expect? To be in bed ‘til ten and hours to prepare?” “Well you’re just lucky I had somethin’ suitable in me closet on such short notice-” “Short notice my arse, Beth-” “Short notice indeed! ‘Oh Beth, want to go see the races wit’ me tomorrow? See the horses, place a few bets, have a fun day out?’ But no where did you mention wakin’ up before I usually get to bed in a first case-” “I did not say that-” “Oh yessir you did. And at no point did ye say we’d be drivin’ up with your brother!”

“You would have driven to the races with this mop without a chaperone?” Michael had to bit his cheeks to keep the smirk off of his face as he blew out a stream of smoke, turning along the bumpy road towards Chelthenham. He couldn’t help but think Jeffrey had made the good call to drive with the lads instead of the pair. He turned to look back at the blonde, surprised to find her leaning towards with a hand against his brother’s neck, an alike smirk on her face to what he had fought down.

“It’sa day time event, ‘nd I’m a perfectly respectable lady - why should I be concerned about a chaperone?” Beth’s voice held more amusement than was usual around the family in the last few years. Only Shada continued to tease and taunt the brothers in the same way since they had returned from France. “If your brother behaved like a gentleman, there’d be naught to concern meself with.”

“True that, though I had hoped he had filled in what your accompanying meant for today-” “I’m ‘ere to be a distraction, ain’t I? A pretty bauble to hang off an arm and spin ‘round a dance floor while you talk business, right? Jackson already told me I’m not ‘ere for my own entertainment.” “That’s good then. We’ve got dealings, Jacky and I, with the Catholics. And we need to buy time until Jeff and the boys are down with their part of the day - which is where your distractive potential comes in. And respectability getting us in.”

The girl simply shrugged at his comments, fingers stroking against the shaved short hairs at the back of his brother’s head. Her limited reaction and cold understanding of the expectation from her was unexpected. Michael looked at her from the corner of his eye as he continued to drive the trio after the trucks. He could hear laughter and shouts alike coming from the other vehicles, however the cool and impassive reaction from the only woman on the journey surprised him. From what Jackson had suggested, she seemed open to working for the Shadows, open to doing what was asked of her, but Michael hadn’t expected such a blaise response. He determined that she required additional observation and investigation, however perhaps not from his brother by the look of it.

As the trucks pulled in and parked alongside eachother, Michael turned into the next space and cancelled the enging as the men started pouring from the back of the canvas covered trays. Jeffrey was laughing and had an arm thrown over one of the shorter gangsters with him, straight razor already out and open in his hand as he made some crass joke to a round of laughter.

Michael exited himself, moving towards the centre of the group as his youngest and the woman followed at a more sedate pace. Jackson had a hand on the girl’s elbow as she hop-stepped from stone to stone amidst the mud of the area.

“Men,” The tall blond called out, a hand raised in the centre of the informal circle of bodies, space enough to turn and view them all as the Faceless Shadows converged and stood at attention, “Today, we make history. Today, we make a point - that the Faceless Shadows aren’t to be reckoned with. Aren’t to be threatened. And aren’t to be pushed about by some poncey church boys!”

The cheers and foot stomping that came up from the declaration almost felt as good as the first sniff of Tokyo when it danced at the front of the brain, sparking energy and electricity within. Michael basked in the swell of it for a moment before he continued, hand thrown out to grab Jeffrey’s shoulder with a grin. “Now, lads, we all know how to grab some purses or shake down some coins, but today will be an exercise in professionalism. Jeffrey here will be there, guiding you all, as we move through the exercise.” With another pat to the shoulder, Michael turned his head to look into each of the men in his circles eyes as he continued, “Today, we are to sweep through the tents, burn the legal papers for those fuckin’ Catholics bookies, and take any takings they already have. However, it is not a day for unnecessary bloodshed - the odd mark to remind those who stand up, but otherwise we are looking to keep those in the employ unimpacted while driving the message. Should all go well, we want those men on our payroll by the end of the day - so no cuttin’ off ears or tongues where you don’t have to. Have I made that clear?”

The second round of cheers of agreement started up as Jeffrey pulled away from him, dark grin on his face as he repocketed his straight razor. “That’s right boys! Now, let’s go get kick some churchboy arses!”

—

As the trio peeled off from the group, watching as the mismatch of black, grey, blue and tweed coats spreading off like a swarm towards the bookies counters, the tall blond directed them into what appeared to be a backdoor of the derby buildings. She tried to keep track of the lefts and rights they took, of which rooms they passed through and what appeared to be lockers or showers or the kitchens as they moved at a brisk pace. It had been an out of body experience watching the man speak to his men - flashed her back to the way the community leaders would talk back in Ireland, where the loudest voice was not always the most listened to - but it let a cold taste in her mouth thinking on it.

Joanna was glad for the grip on her elbow as they hurried along the passageways, until the tall one stopped suddenly at the end of a hallway. If she hadn’t been held she would have propelled straight into him, instead merely stumbling slightly.

“Right, you claim you know your job, missy, but I need this to go smoothly today-” Michael’s voice was unusually low as he turned back to her before the door to the next room, blue eyes cold and icy as he stared down at her. Beth Murphy should have been shaking in her shoes, however Joanna knew she’d already shed the scared mouse persona in the last months. Instead, she stood firm, head tilted minutely to stare back at him with a grim expression. “From this point, you do what you are told. If you are told to dance, you dance. If you are told to laugh, you laugh. If you are told to be silent-” “I’m ta be silent.”

Interrupting the other was probably not the right move if the hand on her elbow tightening and pulling her slightly back towards the other Visyak was any indication; however as Michael let out a dark growl at her, she managed to look apologetic.

There was a beat, where she almost felt like speaking, however a glance to the dakr haired man beside her, she knew talking was not a good move as she felt the older’s eyes rake over her.

“Yes. You will be silent. A silent, pretty woman to… entertain our companions, correct?”

The pause made her stomach tighten up, outrage at what she thought he may be implying bubbling up - however now was not the time to clarify exactly what she would and would not do on the command of the other; that she was not, in fact, a whore. Besides, as the blond turned and pushed the door open to the opulent ballroom, she fell into step as both men began their way in and to lap the room. Joanna slipped her elbow from the other’s grip before sliding her hand into the crook of his arm instead as would be expected in such a space.

Looking around the room, she felt almost underdressed as gaggles of women with jewels larger than her nails adorned their hair, ears and decolletage, passed them. When Jackson had stopped by to advise her she would be joining him to the races the night before, she had panicked briefly before remembering the one dress hanging in her wardrobe that would suit the occasion. She had brought it from the caravan, from where she had concealed it away, hidden like her feelings from the last time she wore it; but something had told her she would need the deep green dress. Her mother had been the one to start sewing it for her hope chest before she passed, and Joanna had finished it two years ago with only a little updating to the pattern. Letting out the waist and adding the sequined patterns to match the style of 1919 before it was thrown away into the back corner with all of its memories. However, staring at the latest French fashions and well tailored suits around her, she felt like a daisy surrounded by roses. Especially when the two men she’d arrived with were impeccably suited as well.

At least she had had warning enough to make her hair presentable and scrub the smell of hops and whiskey off of her before leaving with the rest of the troops that morning.

“Beth,” The soft call of her false name next to her caught her attention, head turning up to the left to exchange a look with Jackson as he nodded towards where his brother was headed directly towards the group of men, the Catholics, in the back corner. “Do not worry about what he said, you’re a natural.”

She bit back a thought at the faith the other had in her, just how natural pretending to be someone else was for her, but instead shook her head and slid minutely closer to him.

“You needent worry about today, alright? You’re just here to look pretty, laugh at their jokes, and be your charming self.” “My sense of humor might not work with their type of jokin’ though.” “Well, you already meet two of the requirements, Beth, you will be fine. Today will go well, and it will be the marker of something very important if all goes to plan. Champagne?”

The last comment did not settle the slight nerves she began to feel as she caught eyes from the back table on her as Jackson slowly walked them both towards the bar in the back corner. A waiter passing with a tray of drinks prompted the question, and she bit back a look as he picked up a glass and handed it to her. As she sipped on the drink, leaning beside him at the main bar of the room, Joanna couldn’t help but hope the bubbles would go to her head and the day would be over soon.

“Nothin’s goin’ to happen in ‘ere today is it?” At the shake of the other’s head, she finally smiled, giving his forearm a squeeze. “Well then - I’ve got nothin’ to worry ‘bout.”

—

The tents were colder than usual that time of year, as the side pannels had been left open to allow for the numbers moving through the area placing bets before the racing would begin. Jeffrey could spot his men dotted throughout the crowd, making their way to advantageous positions to view each bookie individually. He sneered at a cop that moved past, blowing a long stream of smoke out towards the officer before he turned back towards his on task. The others could be trusted to grab the paperwork and bids; Jeffrey simply had to stand back and wait for the fun to begin.

He made his way through the crowd as the those who had placed their bets moved on, allowing new punters in their places as they rushed to get their claims in before the bookies would close down for the race itself. There were two short, sharp whistle blows before those remaining bets were finalised and the others ushered from the space. Leaving only the bookies, the two guards in place by the Catholics, and Jeffrey’s men in the tent as the sides rolled down.

It took a few minutes for the men of guard to realise the thirty strong men were not intending to leave, and that was when the time came for the real fun to begin. Jeffrey was the one to approach the guards, feet picking up the pace as he crossed towards them, razor already in hand as they moved to withdraw their own knives.

Two against one was always his favourite type of fighting, where there was enough challenge to draw his adrenaline up and flooding through his veins as he twisted, turned, ducked, weaved and sliced in turn.There was the flash of his blade in the warm glow of the lamps dotted around the room, followed by the splash of blood in the same arcs as he moved; one hand bladed and the other fisted or grabbing. There was the feeling of a knife in his side from one of the Catholics, but it just made him grin wider and his blood pump faster as he sliced back in turn.

When the last of the pair was down, his hand fisted in the man’s shirt as he slid the straight razor straight down his face followed by a punch to the temple, Jeffrey finally let go of the rush of the fight. He lurched to his feet, blood of his and blood of the enemy mixing in equal parts across his face, arms and torso, to stare around the tent where his men had rounded up the bookies into the centre of the room. Awaiting his further instruction.

“Fellas, please relieve these gentlemen of their fuckin’ legal paperwork and any of their takings for the day - burn the papers and deposit the funds together for our next move.” His voice sounded hoarse, from the heavy breathing and delicious exhaustion from the fight, but a grab at a nearby glass smoothed that out. Jeffrey grinned darkly as he made his way to the group of quivering men. “Now, you will provide these elements to my men without complaint and without delay. Any delays, and I will need to demonstrate again what will be happening… Then, once my men have your papers and your takings, you will exit this tent in an orderly fashion. You will return to your homes and enjoy a nice meal, you will enjoy a nice night in your wives or girl’s arms. You will have one night of peace to appreciate the gift that I have gifted to you.”

Jeffrey circled the men as he spoke, prodding the odd man who stood too far forward with the end of his razor blade to hear them squeak while his men got to work, before continuing. “You will appreciate the gift that the Faceless fuckin’ Shadows have given to you today. And tomorrow, you will convene at The Fort for your induction into your new terms of employment.” He leaned in to prod one man’s face when he would not maintain eye contact, staring with a feral look on his face. “And those of you that do not report tomorrow for your induction, you will be given a visit on Tuesday by myself and my associates. Do I make myself clear?”

There was no noise from the group of scared men, the only sound in the tent being his ragged breath and the sound of his men pouring coins and papers alike into sacks. Jeffrey let out a bark of a laugh, grabbing the closest of the men with a hard grip to the back of his head. The man struggled, letting out a loud wail which transformed into a scream as Jeffrey removed the cap of his ear to show the others. “I said, do I make myself clear?!”

—

Michael had yet to raise the signal that their brother had arrived or that his attendence was required at the table. He didn’t particularly wish to join them at that moment, as he flung a hand out and span his blonde dancing partner back against him. Her laugh sounded over even the loudest drum beat as she spun back out before returning again.

He had noticed her concerns regarding the day fairly early on, the constant touching for reassurance, the slight nervous tick she had of pulling at the waves near her ear as Michael would say something or someone would brush too nearby. The way she seemed to walk just that little bit closer than necessary to him as they had circled the room.

However the moment he’d finally suggested they dance rather than await Michael’s beck against the bar, she seemed to come back to her normal, lively self. It was strange to him to be able to read her so clearly, most people being an enigma to him since returning from the war and drowning his own demons and fears the same as the rest touched by the war that filled England at the time. Perhaps it was being seperated from the war by her own countries struggles, but Jackson gave a smile watching her twirl at the end of his hand before rejoining him to continue through the traditional steps of the song.

“How come there was no singin’ at the pub?” “What?” “The pub, The Fort, Harry told me I wasn’t allowed ta sing when you boys were ‘round when I started.” “Oh.” “So why was there no singin’?” “Beth…”

Her question surprised him, and Jackson couldn’t quite find the words to explain how none of the men seemed to want to sing upon returning home from the war. Or maybe that was just him, and the rest in following. No one seemed to want to hear the light hearted songs of the past, and the sad songs since would just swallow them all in one gulp if they were sung. He shook his head as she spun out and back again, almost bumping into an older couple that were nearby and getting a disgusted look from them as Beth returned into his arms. Jackson couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the woman muttered ‘whore’ under her breath as Beth continued to dance and smile at him unawares while he felt a cool building anger at the disdainful couple as he turned them away.

“Okay fine, no questions ‘bout the singin’. How about you tell me ‘bout your childhood instead - somethin’ no one else knows. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours!” “Does this seem like the time for games to you?” “Well, it seems to me like Michael is busy talkin’ to that uafásach thug and his boys, and has yet to call for your support or for me to try entertainin’ any of them..” “Which means an appropriate time for you?” “No time better.”

It had to be the honest interest in her eyes that made him acquiesce to her request, as the pair moved off of the dance floor towards the bar for yet another drink. He had noticed her cheeks grew pinker with each champagne, and a little part inside him wanted to find out if it was just her cheeks that flushed so. Tipping back his head as he finished the new glass of whiskey, Jackson kept a hand around the other’s waist as she sipped her drink.

“Since you asked so nicely, and are offering one in return, when I was nine I decided I was going to run away from home when Ma was pregnant with Shada. I packed a cloth with some food and a book and got all the way to the fields out south before I realised I didn’t pack enough rations to get to the next city. Nor did I know the way or where it was going to be. So my grand escape was ended and I was home before dinner.”

The story was one he had not told anyone, and he couldn’t quite explain what compelled him to share that story of all of them. There could have been the time he got stabbed in the trenches. Or crushed in the trenches. Or stabbed by one of the Black Eyes Gang last year. But he shared none of hat, just the childish antics of a little boy about to no longer be the youngest. As he looked across at her, Beth seemed to chew her lip thinking over his story, or of which of her own to share. He got his glass refilled before looking at her, brow raised in anticipation.

“Mawm was an amazing seamstress, she was always fixin’ everythin’ that broke or came apart. It was incredible. I always thought to copy her, but me and needles were never friends ‘til she passed. I once sewed my finger to the cross stitch and didn’t tell noone until that night at dinner when I couldn’t eat one handed. Had to cut the threads out one by one meself to teach me a lesson.”

Beth’s hands gripped the glass a little tighter as she spoke, and he bit back the sympathy from his face at her talking about her mother’s passing. Everyone had lost someone these days, and it didn’t take much for that to come along in conversation any more. The whole world was filled with emotional land mines, as much as the battle field had been strewn with them.

As he leant in to ask further, Jackson spotted his brother giving a significant look across at the pair with the worst possible timing. Swallowing a sigh alongside the rest of his drink, the dark haired man leant in to the other, “It looks like our time for sharing has come to a close.” He could feel the escape of air from her in a disappointed sigh as he clutched tighter at her waist for a second before guiding them away, “For now.”

—

Negotiations between rivals was always so boring. Or perhaps it was only negotiations between boring rivals that felt that way. Gabriel bit back a yawn from where he and his wife sat, just to the right of Zachariah as he talked around in circles with the tall blond fuck. Leaning towards his wife as she let out her own bored sounding noise, Gabriel murmured quietly, “I’m sorry to keep you stuck here, my love. You could dance if you wished..”

The Indian beauty he had convinced into marrying him turned back to him, and he was astounded as he was every day that Kali was his. Her brown eyes smiled at him through his bored expression. “You are so dear, however that would not be seemly would it.”

It wouldn’t but it did not stop him from thinking the endeavour would be more enjoyable as he hunkered in to listen to yet more boring double talk from the other pair. If Gabriel were in charge this situation would have been resolved much quicker, especially as he reflected upon the more enjoyable negotiations with the middle brother last week. Free flowing drinks, a few hands of cards and crass jokes made for a much more hospitable atmosphere for discussions than the stiff talking he heard between the other two.

Just as he had begun to lose hope, Gabriel spotted the younger brother and the blonde barmaid from the previous meeting weaving their way towards the table. Opportunity always came in the strangest forms, and as the pair arrived, he leapt to his feet with Kali’s hand in his.

“Well this seems a fair bit too crowded if you ask me, Zachariah.” He cut in, not particularly caring what the other two had been talking of as he pulled his wife to her feet. “And my poor darling love has yet to have a dance, and you were just saying how wonderfully Jackson was dancing, weren’t you, my love?” He waggled an eyebrow at the Indian woman encouragingly, and like clockwork, his gorgeous, beautiful, clever wife jumped upon the topic with haste.

“Oh I absolutely was. Such lovely dancing-” “It would be such a shame for the four of us to be wasted off our feet-” “-when really, we are simply a distraction for what you need to be discussing.”

They batted the conversation back and forth with the elegance of only those truly in sync could achieve, holding court over the conversation regardless of the disdainful looks from the bald and blond men or the skeptical looks on the newcomers. With a raise of her brow, Kali gave a small nod in return at Gabriel before she breezed around the table to take the younger Visyak man’s hand.

“Truly, I would greatly appreciate a dance. My dear husband is all left feet you know.” “I’m wounded, Kali dear. Utterly wounded. I would even say heartbroken.” “Well perhaps you should try practicing more. Mr Visyak?”

The dark haired man looked impassively at the hand holding to his before giving a slight nod of his head at his brother and leading the beauty onto the dancefloor again. Gabriel gave a little smirk at the way his wife seemed to jerk the other, leading from the non-leading position and throwing the man off; before he raised a brow at the blonde woman left. She was quicker on the uptake than anyone else, grabbing a hold of his outstretched hand and dragging him after her herself.

Gabriel spared a glance behind himself at Zachariah and the other man before determining he truly did not relish the day the bald man would one day fall down from the cocky high horse and leave he, Gabriel, to take up the mantle of leader.

“So, how dull was their negotiatin’?” The question surprised him as the blonde followed his movements into a box step easily if a little clumsily. It appeared whatever dancing she was used to, it was not the contained dances required by the song choice at that moment. Not surprising, given how she had seemed to throw herself into the charleston and span around unexpectedly when Gabriel had spotted her earlier. She was clearly not from the rest of the society that filled the room, that or she was too far above it to care for expectations.

“Truly the dullest half hour of my life.” “Why didn’t ye bring your wife out for a twirl earlier then?” “It wouldn’t have been appropriate.” “Didn’t look like you were contributin’ much to it. I’m sure your wife would’a preferred to be on the floor with’cha.” “That would be extremely true. She doesn’t much appreciate my line of work-” “Horsefixin’ not everyone’s cup of tea.“

That made him stumble this time, though the girl simply laughed as she tripped over his feet in turn. A few nearby dancers looked over with the tutt’s building in their face before he started the steps up correctly again.

“No, I don’t suppose it is. And what of yourself, it’s not particularly common for a barmaid to come into this section of Chelthenham.” “Unless it is to circle with drinks, you mean?” “True. Not as an attendee then, I should say.” “Should ye say though? Perhaps I’m actually an ‘eiress with a body guard for the occasion.” “And seeing you working at that little pub?” “Even the rich need to have fun sometime, don’t they?”

That concept got a genuine laugh from him as he sent her out into a completely inappropriate twirl for the dance style before they both fell back into the correct steps. The blonde was barely focussed upon their conversation anyway, as amusing as her half thought quips appeared to be. She seemedto fixate between watching Zachariah and the older Visyak’s conversation as if she could work out the discussion if she stared hard enough, and watching the younger Visyak as he danced politely with Kali seven feet away.

In turn, as Gabriel turned them again to get closer to his wife, he noticed the younger man was looking between his brother, the girl and the far door. Clearly the Shadows had something planned, and as Gabriel managed to reach the pair he drew the barmaid to a stop.

“Enough dancing! While we are free from the shackles, let us get a drink or four. Love?” He dropped the girl’s hand immediately as his wife withdrew her own for him to claim before leading the small group off of the floor as the main doors pushed open to let in a group of well dressed men, and the amusing Jeffrey front and centre missing a shirt under his jacket.

“What did that idiot do now…” Gabriel heard muttered from the brother nearby him as he turned away to the bar. This would need a stiff drink for everyone.

—

The man was a conceited, arrogant, self-secure moron. That was all Michael could think as he tried to assert that as much as the Catholics had held control on the game of fixing previously, that that control would be gone within hours.

Somewhere along the way though, the man had decided instead to focus on recounting his past days of glory, the days of pretty women that he claimed didn’t require coin, and commentary upon every woman’s figure that passed by them. It was worse than speaking with Jeffrey, as at least Michael had the unfortunate knowledge to be aware of his brother’s successes with the ladies. This bald man did not stack up.

“Zachariah, I don’t believe you are taking this situation seriously.” “Why would I ever take anything your little band of miscrents do seriously?”

Michael bit back a snarl at that, as he shifted in his chair, glass held to his lips as he looked across the room, eyes still carefully focussed upon the far door. Any moment now, he would be vindicated, his ambition come to fruition, his goals for the work of his whole family achieved. At least for now.

As Zachariah began again to tell the story of the three milkmaids, one that Michael was entirely sure was either outright lies or the story of someone else, the doors of the ballroom opened up and finally his brother had arrived.

The hush that fell about the room as the group of five, the remaining Shadows having made their way through the crowds outside towards the trucks or towards the closest source of spirits, made their way through the room, shouldering through the still collected couples on the dance floor with sacks upon their backs lead by Jeffrey. From the lack of shirt, and the odd red stain still upon his face, Michael could tell his instructions had not been fully executed - however unsurprising that was.

“As fascinating as that fairytale must be to you, Zachariah, I believe I have a better story to share now..” The blond stood to meet his brother, taking a sack from one of the men and depositing it upon the table. “You see, while we have been discussing your exploits, my Shadows have completed a task which should have been far harder than your complacency and arrogance has allowed it to become.”

The coins poured upon the table, built up with bank notes as it piled high amongst the height of the wine goblets left by the rest of the party goers. Michael sneered as the look of confusion upon the other’s face - blinking owlishly as if he could not focus upon the reality of where such coins came from.

“While you have driveled upon for the last hour about women, my men have been fleecing yours like my brother actually does women’s skirts. They have slipped inside of the skirts of your bookie tent. They have spread the legs of your men’s ticket books, and plundered the spoils for our whims. Your men are now my men. Your tent is now my tent. And your winnings are now my winnings.” Michael sank back into his seat, lips pulled into a snarl as he growled the words out, running his fingertips over the coin pile, picking one to run between his fingers. “However, rather than begin a war here today - I am here in the name of friendship and prosperity..for both of us.”

If looks could have killed him, Michael would have died a million times over in France, and would have died yet again at that very table.

“What the fuck do you suggest then?” “A forty-sixty split of all future takings, in exchange for adequate protection for your men by ours.” “You expect what?” “I gather you are a gambling man, given your occupation as it is, so I will offer you another set of odds - sixty-forty split of all future takings, where by my men will strike as they have today, silently and without warning, to take our sixty majority, and leave the forty odds of your men behind each time.”

The ice between them seemed to grow stronger, as the blond looked away nonchalantly, taking a drag of his cigarette as if his suggestions were as interesting as discussing the weather. From the corner of his eye, he could see Zachariah attempting to engage him in a stare down, however that would not happen. He had the other by the balls, and was not going to relinquish control again.

The pause grew until finally, the older man drew his hand back and spat upon it before holding it out. Michael raised a brow before following the same moves and shaking the other’s hand. With his free hand, two more sacks were deposited upon the table before Jeffrey and his crew ambled back out, the air appearing to return to the room alongside the noise of entertainment and whispers again.

“Now, in the name of friendship, I have a request. Perhaps even a wager.” The smug tone from the other man felt wrong in his ear, however Michael simply raised the other brow as he leaned in to listen.

—

She should have known there was going to be trouble that afternoon. There had been three magpies warbling to each other that very morning as she left the house. Three magpies chattering always spelled bad news, however she had thought nothing would come of it after the mornings exitement.

The hand upon her upper arm was hard, cruel and painful as she tugged to pull back. This had not been a part of the arrangement, a part of Jackson’s suggestion the previous night. This was not what she’d agreed to, and Joanna felt the bile rising in her throat at the realisation she had been decieved by at least one person that day.

After the theatrics from Jeffrey, Jackson had guided the pair of them back through the maze of hallways while she laughed about the improbablity of seeing such a thing as a shirtless man in a ballroom again. They had reached the car in short enough a time where he had begun to relax and joke back to her comments in agreement. As the rest of the Shadows had formed and piled into the trucks, she was not sure what to make of Jeffrey joining them instead of the trucks, nor Michael eventually arriving to state they were to join the Catholics for drinks after the race.

It had been a peaceful hour as they watched the horses race and the men had smoked. Joanna had barely bit back screaming for her own horse as he pounded down the turn. As always, he came out on top.

As soon as the turn was complete, all three men made a move towards the vehicle and Joanna slipped into the back seat beside the youngest of them. A query to Jeffrey of how his afternoon had gone filled the time it took to drive to the house the head of the Catholics resided in as he boasted of the fight, of the thrill, of the rush. As the other talked, she felt Jackson’s hand squeeze against her knee as she shared a bemused look with him.

The house was impressive. Considering the converted rowhouses she had heard were the base for the Shadows operation, that such a fine house could be maintained through horse fixing alone was sure to have sent a pang of jealousy or lust through the men as they entered. To Joanna, it looked entirely too guady compared to the quaint caravan she shared with her family.

It was not until they had moved to the billiards room that she had begun to notice anything amiss. The friendly Indian woman, whom Joanna had observed longingly at the decorative nose rings and gold circlets the woman had worn, was no where in sight. However her husband remainded and was pouring drinks for the men as a whole. There was a servant girl as well, and she had barely concealed the eyeroll she felt growing watching Jeffrey target his prey.

She had seen him leave shortly after the servant, fairly certain that was normal for most of these occasions if the bragging talk she had heard through the cubby was anything to go by. Shortly after, Michael approached Gabriel with the suggestion of a card game in the gentlemen’s lounge. As the pair left, the blond had called out for Jackson to join him so they could discuss the arrangement. It had been as the dark haired man shot her a perplexing look and a squeeze of her hand that she realised that only herself and the leader of the Catholics remained.

Joanna felt a shiver down her spine when she turned away from the man, moving towards the billiard table to place it between herself and the leering man. She couldn’t tell who had clearly offered her or agreed to the arrangement as it was, but they would learn the lesson once she had escaped from the room and those probing eyes.

“Where are you going, barmaid? My glass is empty and I expect it to be refilled.” “Sorry ta disappoint, but todays me day off. You’ll need’ta fill it yourself.” “You will come over here and fill my glass, or I will take my fill from you.”

She sucked in a breath at the words, eyes blazing as she finally met his gaze. He seemed determined, and glaring as she shook her head back at him.

“I will scream.” “No one will care what sound a whore makes.”

That made her freeze, eyes wide as the man approached her, cutting off her path towards the door. If she wanted to escape, she would need to fight her way out, however that was not something she was unfamiliar with. Straightening her shoulders, Joanna moved to push past the other as if without a care in the world.

She knew the moment his hand grabbed her arm that it had been the wrong choice to enter the spiders web to try to escape. Jerking back, she reached for the end of the billiard table to gasp for her purse or a cue stick, for anything to assist her as the man’s grip tightened and pushed at her.

It was the dress, it was always because of the dress that these things happened. It was the black and tan’s storming the gypsy festival for beltane; breaking down caravan doors and pulling out those from inside, throwing men into the dirt and lining them against the stone wall of the farm as women and girls like she were dragged back inside. It had been as she was dragged inside that her choice between the insular nature of the gypsys and the all consuming hatred for the English invasion of her home was decided. Her father’s hands had been the ones to save her that time, wrapped around the solider’s neck before the worst could occur, but as she screamed and fought to escape the other’s grip, she knew her father couldn’t save her this time.

The man grunted, shoving her against the scratchy felt surface of the table with one hand against the back of her neck while the other fumbled with the skirt of her dress, words about making things fair made her eyes water at the realisation she had been sold as a bargaining chip for some horses.

Her hands jerked about the tabletop, feeling for where her purse with her pistol would be, before her fingers brushed the smooth hard surface of a billiard ball. There wasn’t a moments hesitation as she curled her fingers around the ball, before flinging back behind her with all the force she could muster. Hatred for the man, for the gangster that sold her, for the soldier she couldn’t fight off herself.

A sharp crack echoed through the room, and the hand on her neck slackened, giving her the chance to spin and attack again.

All she knew at that moment forward was the sound of the heavy ball hitting skull, the sound of a body slumping to the floor, the sound of a hard surface driving into the already cracked bone, the slick sound of blood pulled back with the force of her swings. The sound of her hissing insult after insult, hatred and loathing for men who continued to think they could take what they wanted from her and her homeland, of her crying aloud as she beat the life out of the man beneath her.

“What the fuck!”

The sound of another voice registered with her, and as Joanna slowly raised to her feet, she found herself staring at four indentically horrified faces - though her vision only focussed upon the one that had put her there. Had put her in the position to be standing with her hair torn from its position, her hemline torn, and blood to be splattered across her front, arms and pooled on the knees of her stockings where she had rested atop the other as she continued her revenge. The ball felt slick in her fingers, and she found herself throwing the red covered ball at the blond in the doorway.

“How’s this for an agreement?” Joanna hissed the question as the ball flew barely past her intended target, hands fisted tightly beside her hips. The words echoed in the room as she grabbed her purse and stepped over the bleeding man below her. It was as she approached and all four men moved from her path that she stopped to stare up at the taller man, sneer upon her bloody lip. “Michael Visyak, you will pay for what you’ve done. One way or ‘nother, you will pay for this mistake, you fuckin’ gombeen.”

She couldn’t be there a second longer. She had to leave, had to get in the car and had to get home where she could remove the haunted dress and burn it before it could finally seek it’s revenge upon her. Wiping at her eyes, Joanna didn’t even care that while she wiped her tears away, what she left behind were red lines.

—

The drive back to Birmingham had been quiet and tense. Where they should have been celebrating a well executed plan, instead the balance of power and certainty of the races had been obliterated like a skull beneath a pool ball.

The imagery almost made him want to laugh at how inappropriate it was, however instead he merely found himself squeezing the hand that had gripped his in a death grip since they had entered the car in return.

From the corner of his eye, Jackson had watched every minute change in the woman’s expressions as they had left the palatial building behind them. Every mile between them and it had allowed a softness to overtake the severe lines of fury that had defined Beth’s face as they had left the building.

When she had emerged from the powder room with a freshly washed face and hands, Jackson had found himself wanting to hold her and kiss the pain hiding behind her anger away, but had refrained.

He had offered her his hand to help her into the car, however as he had slumped into the seat beside her, he had found her fingers in his once more. Grip tight and unwavering.

As they arrived at the Shadows head quarters, Jackson made no move to exit the vehicle as his brothers both got out. It looked to him almost as if Jeffrey was about to say something, but managed to control himself from interfering as he followed their older brother into the rows houses turned home base.

The wind blew through the open sides of the car, and cautiously, he raised a hand to brush the blonde's hair back behind her ear where it had escaped. Either from the wind of driving, from her passionate outburst or from the events leading up to it - he couldn't tell, however the almost watery look he received in return concerned him that his brother may have just cost him and the Shadows as a whole dearly.

"Beth, did you want me to drive you home?"

It was the first words anyone had spoken since the billiards room. The entire drive home had been deathly quiet, and neither man had said anything as they left. It had been as if a word could break something, however Jackson was not sure what exactly would break from it.

There was a long and silent pause as the words faded away and he almost held his breath, the desire to take them back overwhelming until Beth nodded her head at him, fingers finally releasing his hand from hers, though it felt cold at the loss. "Yes please. I want you to take me home."

#AU stories #peakyverse fic

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