Welcome!

Personal thanks to all who reviewed, favorited and followed! You guys make me write faster :) I'm so happy that everyone enjoyed my attempt at smut xD

Without further ado:

Chapter 8: Complications and revelations

Thomas was rushing down the street towards the Garrison, winded and anxious as heck. For once, his nerves of steel weren't working properly. He needed this deal to go down well, and his only cavalry would be himself, as usual.

"Sweetheart!" The familiar voice made him whirl around, eyes wide. Or, perhaps not only himself. Anna's brow furrowed as she jogged to catch up with him. "You look like you just went two rounds with the devil," she reached out and straightened his lapels.

"Good," Tommy grabbed her elbow tight. "Perfect. I need you." Anna's eyebrow went up, but she let him drag her along. "You got your knife on you?"

"Always," she sounded insulted that he'd ask.

"Can you use it?"

"Please," she huffed with a smirk. "Will you tell me what's-" They entered the Garrison in a flurry of movement. Tommy opened the private room and shoved Anna into it, making her stumble a bit. She glared, he nodded his head in apology to the side, eyebrows rising. She huffed, accepting that he was in a hurry.

"Two Irish men will come in here, they want to make a deal with me. They will speak their bit, then try to kill me when I give them the location of the weapons," Tommy spoke quickly. "I need you to have my back."

"Aye, aye." She saluted.

"At the toast," he said pointing his finger at her. It trembled. Neither of them commented and he left the private room. "Grace," Tommy found the barmaid looking at him like he was insane. He probably looked it, too.

"Mr. Shelby," she addressed him politely, her face impassive. She was always very impassive, which sharply contrasted with Anna's smirks and smiles. He needed to stop comparing them and clear his head. "I was just closing up."

"No, leave that open," Tommy pointed to the door, waving her over to follow him. He had a plan.

Tommy embraced the shaking barmaid, hoping to calm down her hysterics. She'd shot. She'd actually shot. The policeman came in and he spoke with them. He didn't even remember what he'd said. He'd accused them of being late, as they had been. They jibed at him how he had killed a man in cold blood. How he'd behaved like a wild animal. Tommy groaned, leaning against the bar. Still, he could feel the pressure on his neck. Smell the scent of earth. Grace had shot a man. Anna hadn't come out of the private room. Suddenly, Tommy couldn't breathe. Had a stray ricochet hit the girl?

"Anna?" He called out, making Grace jump at the volume of his voice. She looked at him, puzzled. She must've missed him hiding the thief in the private room. Tommy rushed to the door, tearing it open. He looked inside to the see his little thief sitting with her back against the wall, shaking. Her hands were clutching a knife he'd seen her use before and her eyes were wide. She was muttering something in another language. "Anna?" He crouched, vaguely aware of Grace lingering in the doorway behind him. He extended a hand to the girl and she moved so quickly he barely saw it.

With a warrior cry in another language, he was pretty certain it was Russian, she launched herself at him. For such a little thing, she was surprisingly strong. She had him on his back, knife raised to his throat. The blade trembled on his skin with her shakes. Her eyes were still wild, unfocused. Tommy slowly opened his hands, palms up, showing her he meant no harm. Still, she was muttering in a different language and her knees pinned his elbows as she sat on his chest. For a second, Tommy was certain that she would slit his throat. She looked like an animal backed into a corner.

Then, there was a sound of a gun being cocked. Grace had the barrel pointing at Anna's head. The girl slowly looked from Tommy to the barmaid. He thought that she would kill Grace for a brief second. Then, Anna seemed to focus, and looked down at him again.

"Shit, sorry," she apologized, moving her knife away from his throat and scrambling back. She let go of the blade and huddled back against the wall, rocking herself. "I'm sorry." A broken whisper. Tommy waved Grace down, telling her to put the gun away silently. He got to his knees, breathing hard.

"It's alright, Anna," he promised. "Look at me, not a scratch." He didn't touch her. He'd heard of shellshock. That's what they called it. The doctors. Shellshock. It was some kind of a trauma many of the soldiers from the War had brought back with them to their homes. He was certain he had it too. The nightmares, the illusions while being awake, the erratic behavior. Anna was showing all signs. The stuff he'd seen in himself, his brothers and the rest of the men who'd served with him. What had triggered it, though? "Anna, look," finally, her head moved up and she peeked over her knees at him. "Not a scratch." He showed his neck to her. He got a jerky nod in response. "I'm going to get you some water, okay?" He asked tentatively, receiving another nod. "You're safe."

"Is she alright?" Grace asked as she followed him to the bar, where he quickly poured Anna a glass. "She looked like she was about to gut you."

"She'll be fine," Tommy promised, taking the glass to the trembling girl. This time, the barmaid didn't follow him. After Anna drank, her hands shaking horribly, he leaned forward, connecting their foreheads. "You'll be fine," he said to her calmly. "Come on, trouble, on your feet." She let him pull her up and allowed him to hold her against his side. "Let's get you into bed." A shaky laugh.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Shelby," she asked in a cracked voice. "Cause I'm a proper lady, I'll have you know."

"The most expensive thing I'll ever see," he tossed her own joke at her, which made her hug his waist tight.

"You bet," she replied in a small voice. For once, Tommy understood her, for a change. He understood why she understood him. His affection for the small, broken thief who'd been working for him so hard only grew. He decided he would need to see both her and Grace off home.

Sex with Grace was very different from sex with Anna. Tommy lay in the barmaid's bed, feeling awfully guilty about his activities the previous night. The police had come for him and Grace had offered sanctuary. For some reason, they hadn't come bursting into her apartment to fish him out. Instead, he'd stayed the night. She'd pulled him into her charm and he'd ended up asking her to dance. Then, he'd kissed her. Or, she'd kissed him. He didn't know. But it had all gone further than he'd expected. Further than he'd wanted. Or, at least, further than he'd thought he had wanted. He didn't know anymore. He'd taken her, feeling guilty with every touch, every moan, every kiss, every thrust, every moment of pleasure. He'd kept comparing Grace to Anna.

Sex with Grace was tender. She was a woman and she demanded tender treatment. There was no teasing. There were no cheeky replies. There was no breathless pleas in Russian. There was no laughter in the middle of sex. No jibes at his ability to perform. Having slept the night, Tommy realized that he wasn't satisfied. Emotionally. Grace, simply, wasn't Anna. Sex with Grace had left him hollow, just like sex with Lizzie had. A performance for hollow satisfaction for a hollow man.

She didn't look at him with adoration in her eyes as he made love to her. She didn't swing wildly from being seductive to being bashful. She didn't touch him with tenderness then swing to teasing him impatiently with her words. She didn't kiss him with wild abandon then blush at a mere mention of something dirty. Grace wasn't Anna. And, he would never be satisfied with anyone but his little mysterious thief. Grace wasn't the most expensive thing he'd ever lay his eyes on.

Tommy got up from the bed, leaving the barmaid asleep. He dressed and looked at her one last time, before leaving her flat. He would come clean to Anna. After all, sleeping with Grace had given him clarity of mind. Not just that, but it had been business only. A way to stay safe. A night with her had made him realize what he wanted the most. He wanted the little thief, next to him, in bed or by his desk, loving or working, sharing everything, from pain to tenderness. He wanted the cottage in the woods and the children and the many dogs and the horses in the field. Thomas Shelby was hopelessly in love with Anna Smith.

With a grin on his face, Tommy headed for the printer's. He'd had business cards made. He felt… alive.

Anna walked into the hotel wide a wide smile on her face. Instantly, Tessa smirked behind the counter. There was a bandage on her hand when she gave Anna her keys, but she seemed fine. Obviously, she'd been working.

"Bagged the blue-eyed, cute butt?" The Asian girl waggled her eyebrows and Anna couldn't help the grin on her face growing. "You did! Oh my God! I thought you didn't have it in you!"

"Shhh!" Anna bent forward, putting her hand over Tessa's mouth. There were a few people looking over at them.

"How good was he? Oh, he looks like he's great. Tell me he's amazing." Tessa continued to talk as soon as Anna was certain it would be a normal volume. "Please, give me the details." She did a little hop dance behind the counter. "I haven't had any in weeks."

"He…" Anna trailed off, then looked back at her friend. "Is so good. I mean, I don't know much. I haven't done it a lot of times, but with him, it was so good. He kissed me everywhere. And he, you know…" She touched her lips and then nodded down. Tessa looked like she was about to explode. "And when he pinned me against the door… I thought my heart would burst."

"This calls for drinks," Tessa giggled. "Many, many drinks." She looked at the clock, frowning. "I get off at nine again. I'll be up then, ye?"

"I'll wait for you," Anna said in a sing-song voice, going for the elevator. It was time for her check-in. She glanced at the clock. Seeing as Tessa didn't finish work until nine, she had time to go to the gym, too. Her knife work needed more practice. She needed more training. Anna wanted to be ready.

When she opened the door to her room, there was someone already inside, on her bed. Anna pulled out her knife, but lowered it when she saw the familiar sleeping face of her one ally and friend. Aleksándr Vovk was sleeping in her bed without a care in the world. Anna smiled softly at the image.

"Sasha," she called out gently, touching his elbow. Instantly, his grey eyes opened and he looked at her. Then, he was up and off the bed, bending down to kneel in front of her on one knee.

"You-"

"Please, none of that," Anna asked him gently, lowering herself to his level to give him a hug. He returned it with a sigh. "How was your mission?"

"It was of no importance," he said in his deep voice. Sasha was a beautiful man. That much Anna would admit openly. He had black hair, slightly curly, and pale grey eyes that stood out from his long lashes. He was well-built, bigger than Tommy, and he carried himself like a warrior. He had been her protector since birth and one of her closest friends. He had saved her life too many times to count. She owed him so much, yet didn't have enough to offer. "I'm glad you're safe. I was worried when you didn't meet me at the usual place."

"I was working," Anna felt guilty about missing their meeting. She hadn't risked a letter nor a phone call. She didn't use the phone. There was always a chance that her voice could be recognized by someone listening in. Sasha shook his head, helping her up and then standing himself.

"I understood after a few hours of waiting," he took her bag and placed it in the wardrobe. Then, he took her hat and coat. "It's good that you didn't risk a letter." Anna took off her gloves and reached up to his face, touching a bruise on his forehead gently.

"That looks like it hurt," she said.

"It's nothing," Sasha sat down in the chair, looking awfully tired. He was dressed in European clothes, in a suit, which didn't fit his image at all. He looked very much out of place. Anna missed the days of seeing him in his fur clothing, with long hair and braids from his tribe. She missed seeing a sword on his hip and a wide grin on his face whenever they got up to something mischievous together. Something that he would take all the heat for, as a valued General's son, protecting her from her mother's wrath. She missed the way her father would nod to them both discreetly, sending them off to 'dancing' lessons together with a smile on his face. She missed the jealousy of her sisters over her being so close with her personal guard. She missed the carefree Sasha who laughed whenever she took a wrong step and ended up on the ground with her behind hurting for days during their training sessions.

"I worry about you," she said. "You're in this mess only because of me." Sasha shook his head.

"I'm willingly following you," he bowed his head. "Until the end of my days, as is my oath."

"I've already released you of your oath."

"I choose to keep it, still." For a moment, they sat in silence, Anna watching him adoringly and him checking her for injuries with only his eyes. "I found the first target." The air in the room seemed to still. "Yakov Yurovsky." Anna sucked in a sharp breath. She could recall the cold eyes of the bearded man perfectly. Come, sit for the portrait, he'd told them. Come to the basement for the portrait. She felt sick to her stomach. The rage she'd worked so hard to quash rose inside of her like a flame. It wouldn't be sated until she cleared her ledger. Until she went down the list and got every single one of them back. She would be the phoenix who rose from the ashes for retribution. The ghost that haunted them until the end of their days.

"Where is he?"

"In France, right now, on official business," Sasha replied. "He will be coming to Britain next. It seems that he's hunting down the relatives who've escaped the revolution. Anyone who could inherit the throne." Anna nodded jerkily.

"We go according to plan," she looked at Sasha's grey eyes to find them tender. "No mistakes. We make it clean and accidental."

"On your order," Sasha bowed his head.

"What?" Anna repeated, shocked. Mr. Russell sighed, pulling his hat off. His hair was a mess underneath it.

"They've put in a request to purchase your contract," he repeated, placing the papers for her contract on the desk. "That means that your services will be exclusive to them. You will leave the hotel and live in a place of their choosing, doing jobs only for them. Your check-ins will be yearly, if that frequent. You will have guild services available, but you will mostly be working as an independent party." Anna's head dropped, making her look at the carpet. There was a brown swirl which she focused on. It looked like a flower stem.

Everything was going to hell. At one moment, she was happy. No. Satisfied. Almost happy. She found a good client, whom she liked. He booked her often for easy jobs. Banter between them brought her joy. She loved him, as much as she could love a man. The oath she'd made stood between her and everything. Yet, she could love this man without compromising her oath. She'd found the first step to the rest of her plan. She was on the way to fulfilling her promise to her family. She was on the way to achieving what she'd set out to do. And then… this.

"Who?" Anna asked in a small voice.

"Mr. O'Connell," Mr. Russell said. "He's a good client, been with us for years. Has quite a few of our former operatives working for him exclusively. He's taken a shine to you after that train robbery up north." Anna nodded mutely. She should've botched the job. She'd known she was being tested. She was being shown off. But, she hadn't known that this would be the outcome of the damned thing. "There is a weeklong period during which all the papers will be put in order. Then you will be seen off to his estate in Ireland."

"Understood," Anna nodded. Her mind was already going a mile an hour. She needed to stop this purchase, in some way. Any way. She'd known that it was a possibility that she could get purchased. But, thieves usually weren't. And, thieves who were had usually been in the guild for a while. Over two years, precisely. She was too new to worry about a bid on her contract. She needed to stop the purchase. Sabotage it.

"Oh, before I forget," Mr. Russell stopped before he left her room. He took out a folder from his suitcase and tossed it onto her bed. "Everything we could find on the people you suspect of working for the Inspector." When Anna looked at him, he had a smirk on his face. "Better keep Mr. Shelby happy as a client." He went for the door, stopping for a moment at it. "During the next week, while the sale is being processed, you are free to go and do more work. Complete previous jobs. Also, other clients are free to bid on your contract. I wish you well, Anna Smith." The door closed after him.

"Fuck," Anna growled, grabbing the file. She stuffed it into her bag along with her contract information and changed clothes, forgoing a shower. Even if she was sweaty from the workout with Sasha, she had places to be. If the sale was finalized before she could make her move, she was doomed. With a smile, she looked at the door as she locked it behind her, bag and coat in hand. Mr. Russell was certainly a good one. She could never thank him enough for all the hints he'd given her. First, she needed to go to the place out in the woods. Then, she needed to go to Tommy.

For once, upon arriving to Birmingham, Anna wasn't able to find the man. Thomas Shelby was usually quite the easy character to locate. Two questions or less and she'd be pointed in the direction he'd walked most recently. Everyone knew him. Everyone watched him. It was a damn security system better than the King's. Introducing herself as his associate usually got her a few looks, but nobody complained. Nobody asked for more information. Tommy was well-feared in his city. Anna wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

She headed for the pub where she was certain he'd wander in, sooner or later. Her father hadn't been feared. He'd been soft. Kindhearted. Too kindhearted. He'd yielded his power to his advisors more than often. That had cost him his head. Still, Tommy being so harsh and oftentimes, so emotionless, Anna wasn't certain that that was best, either. Her father had been too soft of a leader and Tommy was too hard of a leader. One had gotten himself assassinated and the other one was surely on the way. It was a terrifying thought. She hadn't meant to get so attached. But, she couldn't help it. She'd always been attracted to hard working men with brilliant minds. Her own personal weakness.

"Hello," Anna greeted the pretty barmaid as she sat in the almost-empty pub. There were only two people there, except her.

"Miss Anna," greeted Grace with a polite smile. "Soda?"

"Sure," Anna nodded, fishing out money from her pocket. Had she told her name to the woman? Or had Tommy? She didn't get the idea that he advertised her. He allowed her to use multiple identities and faces in her line of work. Anna looked at the blonde woman, squinting. How did Grace know her name?
"Thomas tells me you've been working for him on the side," she began conversationally, schooling her face into a polite smile. For once, all of those lessons her mother had insisted on were paying off. Anna could lie and cheat for the guild like the best of thieves. "The gangsters been treating you right?"

"As well as they're able to," Grace replied, giving Anna her drink. Anna sipped, tilting her head to the side.

"That accent, it's Irish, isn't it?" She laughed at the odd look she got. "I'm sorry, I'm not native to Britain, and I must admit I'm a bit of an accent enthusiast. The history and culture is wonderful on the island." Grace bought her act without any suspicion. One good thing about being a young woman and a thief was that she was rarely questioned. There were two roles a woman could fit into in this world: a whore or a wife. It was expected, presumed and never doubted. She was a wolf among the sheep.

"Yes, I'm from Galway," Grace confirmed. "Where are you from? How come you're here?" Anna ginned, tapping the counter.

"Got it in one go!" She giggled merrily. "I'm from a tiny little place in East Europe," she wanted to laugh at her own joke. The place where she'd been born was tiny only compared to the country it was in. "But, since the death of my family I've been traveling about. Was in a circus a while, that was fun. Now, I work for a company in London."

"A circus?" Grace asked, clearly interested. Hook, line and sinker. Anna knew that seemingly boring work in London compared to a circus was always insignificant.

"My childhood friend and I decided to travel after the war," she nodded. "Something about leaving the hell and memories behind, you know. People needed cheering up, too. He's good with knives so he taught me a bit. Wanna see?" When Grace nodded Anna fished out a knife from her coat and performed an easy trick. Threw the blade into the air and caught it by the tip, then balanced it on the top of her finger.

"You're not bad," Grace commented.

"Barmaid, another round!" The blonde apologized and went to do her job. Anna took the chance to fish the file Mr. Russell had given her from her bag. She skimmed through it. Then, she spotted a name she knew. Then another. Then, everything clicked. Then, rage spread throughout her veins.

"How do you like working for Tommy?" Anna asked Grace conversationally when the barmaid was back behind the counter, cleaning glasses.

"It's alright," she smiled.

"And for Campbell?" That made the woman freeze mid-wipe. She looked up at Anna, stepping back at the cold look in the girl's eyes. "Don't run," the barmaid moved to the side, but she was sluggishly slow compared to Sasha. Anna threw her knife, pinning the sleeve of Grace's shirt to the bar. "Don't run," she warned. "And don't try to lie to me." Grace was looking at her wide-eyed, like a deer caught in a trap. "I'm very good at telling lies myself. And I dislike liars. It won't do you any good to agitate me." There was commotion in the background as the rest of the patrons of the pub cleared out. "How long have you been working for Campbell?"

"Since I came to Birmingham," Grace's voice trembled. She looked to the side, probably where she kept a weapon.

"How vulnerable have you made Thomas?" Anna asked. She stood up on her chair, stepping on the bar and jumping down, a hair's breadth away from the shaking spy.

"I-I-" Anna came closer and Grace inhaled a ragged breath, closing her eyes.

"Tell me," it was an order.

"I told Campbell about his plan for Kimber," the barmaid spilled her confession easily enough. "I told him about the guns' location." Anna slid out another knife from her little spot, a smaller one. Grace heard that, opening her eyes and speaking faster. "But, but I'm out. I don't work for Campbell anymore. I don't want to betray Tommy anymore. I want to-" she stopped herself. Anna laughed.

"You love him, eh?" A jerky nod of the woman's head. Anna leaned back on the bar, twirling her knife, laughing. The rage was still in her veins, but it was overcome by morbid amusement for the moment.

"Fucking hell, we both must be mad," she commented. "It's the butt, isn't it? And the eyes." Grace looked like she didn't know what to do with this quick change in Anna's temper. She'd been called psychotic after the incident back home. Sasha had told her that she showed signs of shellshock. Of a split in the personality and temper influenced by great trauma. It freaked people out. But, Sasha had accepted her. She could live with her new state of mind. With the new, quicksilver temper. If he accepted her. He'd accepted her innocent. He accepted her bloody.

"Miss Anna," Grace whimpered. "I was going to leave," she said. "Leave and never look back. I don't want to cause Tommy any more harm."

"Funny," Anna giggled. "You're a funny woman, Grace." She sighed, leaning back against the bar. "Well, I have no issue with that. I despise betrayal myself. But, it's not like I'm the wronged party. The law demands Thomas decides what to do with you."

"He would never hurt me," Grace quickly replied. Anna gave her a smirk. She bent over, feeling the hitched breath in the spy's lungs when she sucked it in.

"We'll see about that," she whispered. "He's Thomas Shelby," Anna tore her knife out of the woman's sleeve. "You never know what he'll do."

That's all folks!

Sooo, I'm ready for the flames about Grace. Lay it on me XD

Bonus question: Any guesses on Anna's historical inspiration?

Side note: Sasha is a completely fictional character