Chapter 52

An uneasy calm now pervaded the cellars below the Shelby casino, smothering the natural ebullience of the Blinders who lined the corridor. No one spoke. No one moved. At times it seemed that no one so much as breathed. They knew that behind the heavy wooden door two captives were hanging limply from ropes slung over the rafters. And they knew exactly what came next.

Above stairs Tommy had commandeered casino manager's office, sending the man off to whip up the crowds on the main floor and ensure that, whatever happened next, the comings and goings below ground were not noted or commented upon. Having poured a gin for Arabella and large whiskeys for Johnny Dogs and himself, he sat back in the tatty leather office chair and rubbed his free hand roughly over his face. Through the door the sounds of upbeat music and screams of laughter could be heard but none of the three were in the mood for a party. They sat in silence for a long moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

Arabella took a deep swig of her drink, then began to choke as the alcohol burned her bruised throat. Tommy leapt up to help her, but she shook him off roughly. Eventually getting her breathing back under control she growled, 'I think you've done quite enough already.' Tommy recoiled. Arabella's face was barely visible though her veil, but he could feel the anger and hurt coming off her in waves. He dropped back down in to his chair, a look of deep shame suffusing his face. Once again, he had failed her. What was wrong with him? He used to be better than this.

Johnny cleared his throat awkwardly and turned to him. 'Well then now, Tommy. What next?'


An hour later Arabella found herself walking stiffly back down the stairs to the cellar. The corridor was warmer now but felt much, much narrower thanks to the massed ranks of the Blinders on guard from the bottom of the main staircase all the way to the dismal cell. She hadn't seen so many of them in one place since the opening of the Shelby Institute; she hoped that they would be of more use today. Dismissing them from her mind, she walked onwards, back ram-rod straight and chin raised proudly. The armed men watched them pass without comment.

At the end of the corridor Tommy paused, one hand resting on bolt fastening the door. Arabella watched play of the lean muscles across his back through the fabric of his shirt as he shifted the weight of the box he was carrying against his chest. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. She fought the urge to run her fingers gently down the soft hair at the base of his skull and along the prominent bones of his spine, to wrap her arms around him and press herself up against the warmth of his fine, firm arse. But she knew that even if he'd accept her touch after all that had been said in the office above this was not the place and was most definitely not the time.

'Let me through', she said softly. She saw Tommy's shoulders tense.

'You don't have to do this.' He turned to face her, but his eyes never got higher than the ground at her feet.

'We discussed this. A man won't break them, not without the risk of killing them before we find out what we need to know, but a woman might. And if this works, no one will think of me as vulnerable again - so let me through.'


When the door swung closed behind her, Arabella felt as though it was slamming shut on her old life. Her innocence was gone and only darkness and pain lay ahead. She could feel the frantic thudding of her heart, hear the roar of her blood in her ears, it was all but overwhelming, but she schooled herself to calmness.

Ignoring the bound men, she walked to the table and gently swept aside some of the instruments. A bloody hammer fell to the floor with a clang, drawing a whimper from one of the bound men. Without a word she dropped the box she had taken from Tommy in to the space she had made.

Roused by her arrival the two prisoners began to pay attention to their surroundings once again. Arabella stared at them coldly through her tinted lenses. The panicky pulse in her head had not yet ceased but she could feel the power of certainty flooding through her. Men, with their fists and blades, had had their chance. Now it was her turn.


It had taken some time to convince Tommy. He had been devastated that, once again, he had not been able to prevent her getting hurt, but she'd told him coldly not to be so foolish. Violence was part and parcel of the Shelby family's business and as long as it was none of them would be safe. At least not whilst they presented such a tempting catalogue of targets. Arabella was determined to take herself off that list.

They'd argued round and round for what seemed like hours, with Johnny Dogs acting as an unlikely voice of reason and, occasionally, a referee. But eventually matters had been settled to everyone's satisfaction. Whilst Tommy had not been pleased, he had at least understood what she was trying to achieve, and so he had agreed to give her time alone with the well-restrained prisoners.


She had to confess that here, in the semi-darkness, and with nothing between them and her bar a few fragile looking pieces of rope, her plan was looking more than a little ridiculous. But although her previous bravado had been stripped away, her anger at being a perpetual victim was more than enough to sustain her.

Standing directly below the single bulb for maximum effect, she asked politely. 'Do you know me?'

The youngest of the two men sneered at her, then winced as the cold air hit one of his broken teeth. 'One of Shelby's sluts, are you? What you gonna do – fuck us to death?' The older man gave a burbling snort of laughter in appreciation at his colleague's witticism.

Arabella let out a slow calming breath. The insult was hurtful, but not surprising, and if anything, it made what she was about to do easier. Looking downwards so that her face was in shadow she deftly pulled the jewelled hat pin free and then removed her cloche hat and its veil. She then took off her tinted lenses and placed them briskly into her purse. After a few moments of silence, during which the tension in the room grew exponentially, she raised her gaze to theirs. The overhead light cast her face in an eerie glow and threw her injuries into horrible relief. The new swelling around her neck and throat added its own mute testimony. The youngest man lost his smug look.

'You both know me now, I think.' The two men nodded nervously. 'And if you know me', she continued. 'Then you will know that I have suffered great personal harm from the enemies of my family over the last few years. I therefore have particular reason to hold a grudge against wicked men'. She smirked coldly. 'So, it feels exceedingly good to have the two of you at my mercy.'

For the first time Arabella saw the two men look concerned. The youngest looked briefly towards his fellow prisoner as if seeking guidance, but the older man did not break eye contact with Arabella for a single moment.

Gliding towards the table Arabella picked up some of the tools at random and examined them slowly. Finally, she selected a cut throat razer and opened it gently, before turning the blade this way and that under the light to check its sharpness. Then she turned back to the men and smiled. With her damaged face, it was a terrible sight.