Unbeknownst to Thomas, Polly tried again to convince Freddie to leave Birmingham before the Inspector found them. She hated discord in her family and while she wished things were different, Polly understood why Freddie and Ada needed to leave. She had tried by giving Freddie and Ada money and boat tickets to America, but that plan failed spectacularly. Instead, the result found Freddie aiming a gun at Thomas.

She cursed herself for failing, for the deal Thomas made to the Inspector, and to Freddie Thorne for being thickheaded. Ada tried to help cajole her husband into leaving. The young wife understood it was better to be gone from the sight of the Inspector than to have her husband arrested and hanged. Each of them kept pressure on Freddie, each failing in their task.

When she gave Thomas the address to Stanley Chapman, she fervently hoped that giving up a higher up would divert the Inspector's eyes away from Freddie. She hadn't heard from Thomas the results of the conversation with Inspector Campbell.

That morning, while the boys were out, Polly caught the date at the top of the Birmingham Mail. It was Freddie's mother's birthday, and he always visited her grave every year. It had been tricky to find Freddie Thorne, but today… today she knew where he would be and she would try, once again, to convince him to leave. If she failed, then Freddie's fate was his own.

Polly could see the sky darkening as she sat in front of a grave. The afternoon cooled off as the storm clouds moved in, making her shiver, but she didn't move. In fact, she was waiting on Freddie to arrive, like he did every year. Every year on his mother's birthday, he would come and lay down flowers.

She knew he would be there today. The damp grass soaked into her coat as she sat there staring at the gravestone in front of her. From the corner of her eye, she saw a man walking through the cemetery, a bunch of flowers in his hand. Seeing it was Freddie Thorne, she stayed quiet and watched as he placed flowers on his mother's grave.

"Today was her birthday," she commented, not moving from her spot.

Freddie stood there, relieved it was Polly he was seeing. "I'm glad you're not a copper. What do you want?"

"I came to warn you," Polly said, rising to her feet. "The police lifted Stanley Chapman."

"How do you know? The police never give out that information," Freddie demanded.

"I know because it was me and Tommy who tipped them off," Polly answered, not looking at him. "Tommy did a deal for safe passage for you and Ada. He's given the coppers Stanley and the money."

"What money?" Freddie asked, feigning ignorance.

Polly glared at him at the way he tried to deflect the mention of money. She knew what happened and how the money was received.

"Who told you about the money?" Freddie demanded. There was only one person who knew about the money and he hoped Polly didn't say Ada.

"Who do you think?" Polly scoffed lightly, watching him closely. "It was Ada's idea. She's so desperate to get out of that rathole you're keeping her in. She didn't mind if you knew, but didn't want to be here when you found out."

Freddie inhaled sharply, feeling like his own wife betrayed him. He didn't move from his spot, contemplating how he should handle this information. While their living arrangements were far from what his wife expected and wanted, they had a place to live.

"Who do you think you are?" Freddie sneered, his anger getting the best of him. "You fucking Shelbys. Always sticking your fucking noses in everyone's business."

"Don't you swear on your mother's grave," Polly snapped, interrupting his tirade.

He smirked, his ire overflowing him. Freddie opened his mouth to retort, to snap off at the woman before him before she interrupted him.

"We don't have time for this, Freddie," Polly urged.

"You did a deal... for me?" Freddie asked, walking away from his mother's grave and toward Polly.

"Don't be ridiculous. I did this for Ada." Polly said.

"You think this copper will keep his word?" Freddie asked, venturing closer to Polly.

Polly turned her eyes away from him. "If he does, then you have to leave. If Chapman gives you up, then you still have to leave."

"So neat," Freddie sneered lightly.

"So leave," Polly snapped, finally growing tired of his childish behavior.

"But," Freddie said, "you have one thing wrong. Stanley cannot give up my address because he does not know it. That's how it works. No one knows each other's addresses. So you've wasted your fucking time because they will beat him until he's dead for information he can't give."

"So you won't leave?" Polly pressed.

"No, I fucking won't leave."

His ire overflowed at the presumptuous way the Shelbys worked and how Stanley Chapman was going to die. It was enough to anger anyone. In a fit of anger, he grabbed Polly by the chin to shake her a bit before she jerked back, her dark eyes full of anger.

"You lay a hand on our Ada and I'll put you in a wooden box myself," Polly threatened, hoping the arsehole in front of her understood her threat.

With that, Freddie walked off, leaving Polly alone in the cemetery.

As she watched him walk away, a chilly breeze swept by her, chilling her to the bone. Freddie's fate was sealed. She just didn't know how yet.

Chester Campbell received an urgent message from Sgt. Moss about Stanley Chapman. Hurrying down the stone staircase that led under the police station, he pushed the door open to find Sgt. Moss waiting for him.

"You wanted to continue, and I wanted to stop," Sgt. Moss explained, trying to hold back his ire. "He had some kind of seizure."

Across Stanley Chapman's back and arms were criss-crossing stripes of blood. They had whipped him for the information that Chapman couldn't give.

Campbell sighed at the loss of life. "So you killed him? Did he give an address?"

Sgt. Moss sighed heavily, unbelieving of this man's lack of compassion.

"What? He fell down some stairs," Campbell snapped.

"This is not bloody Belfast!"

"Not yet, but if men like him keep getting their way, it will be. Now write the report saying he fell down some stairs and call the coroner," Campbell instructed the half-distraught Moss.

Campbell walked off, uncaring about the Sgt's reaction to the death of Stanley Chapman. "Better yet," Campbell paused, turning around to face Moss. "Dump the body in the middle of the street...at night time. Let it be a message to all the Communists in Birmingham that if they don't leave the city or turn themselves in, it will be them next."

The next day, they found Stanley Chapman lying dead in the street, his body covered in whipping stripes. A warning to all who crossed the Birmingham police.

Sitting in his car outside the Shelby home on Watery Lane, Billy Kimber sat absorbing the street. He and Roberts were here to deliver their promise to Thomas Shelby for the legal betting pitch for Thomas's security work. Kimber had made back most of his money and then more.

"To think, I used to live like this," Kimber said, disgust lacing his voice.

"The Shelby's are doing an excellent job," Roberts spoke, not caring about the woes of his boss. He handed over a piece of paper to Kimber. "We haven't lost a penny in eight straight races."

"So we throw the dog a bone," Kimber mused, uncaringly.

"I believe so," Roberts agreed, tucking the papers back into the folder.

Thomas saw the car sitting in front of the house as he approached. While he wasn't expecting Kimber for two more days, it was a relief that this meeting would be over with. Though it depended on what Kimber wanted. Their last encounter hadn't gone well, making Thomas nervous that the deal would be called off.

Coming up the side of the parked car, he knocked lightly on the window, catching Kimber's attention. When he opened the door, he stepped aside. "Mr. Kimber, Mr. Roberts, come have a look around."

He led the two men toward the front door, opening it for them. "After you," he said, stepping back and letting them go before him.

Inside the Betting house, it was bustling with men wandering in and out, placing bets for the upcoming races. Kimber looked around, semi-impressed that this den was in working order. Roberts curiously looked around, seeing a large blackboard at the far end of the den.

"I heard the Lees turned you over?" Kimber said, following Thomas.

"You shouldn't listen to rumors, Mr. Kimber." Thomas said, leading them to his office.

"Business is very good now that you know the winner of each race before it starts," Roberts said appraisingly. For a small time bookmaker, Thomas Shelby impressed him.

Other than to come and look around at his place of work, Thomas wondered why Kimber and Roberts were treading on his territory. Neither he nor the wolf liked it when uninvited persons stepped into his territory.

"Where are they?" Kimber demanded, refusing to take a seat. He didn't want to be here any longer than necessary.

"John, Scudboat, and Lovelock. In here," Thomas called out from his office.

He watched as the three men moved toward the office, each wondering what was going on. Scudboat and Lovelock were two of his inner circle. John being his third while Arthur was his second. It didn't seem prudent to bring Arthur into the conversation. He had enough work with running the Garrison.

"This is my team," Thomas said, motioning toward the men. They'll take up their pitch at your convenience, Mr. Kimber."

Kimber didn't want these men. All three of them looked like they would rob him in a heartbeat, but he understood they would get their job done and do it right, unlike those he employed beforehand.

"Warwick, next Saturday. Do try to be fifty yards from the beer tent," Kimber instructed, much against his better judgement.

"Oh," Roberts said as his boss turned away to leave. "We have heard about the brush of fighting with the Lees. We heard that one of your men was severely injured."

"Yes, well," Thomas said, placing his cigarette in the ashtray. It angered him still that one of his own was injured. "All part of the job."

Roberts made a humming noise under his breath and pulled out a long sheaf of paper and handed it to Thomas. He read over it before setting it down, never noticing that Kimber and Roberts left his office. John smiled at Scudboat as Thomas walked out of the office with the piece of paper.

Coming around the den, Thomas walked over to the blackboard and stood on the dais. All noise ceased immediately as many saw their boss and Alpha standing before them with news.

"Gentleman and lady," Thomas began, casting a glance at Polly. He raised his arm, holding the piece of paper up for everyone to see. "I have here in my hand a legal betting license issued by the Board of Control. The Shelby family finally has its first legal racetrack pitch."

The cheering was enormous. Everyone in the room clapped wildly for their hard won victory. Polly jumped in cheer before rushing around John to embrace Thomas. Now they were legal, money would come in and things would be on the uprise for the Shelby's.

"Get in," Thomas instructed, seeing Maze standing in the pouring rain, her flimsy umbrella barely keeping her dry. He slowed the car down and waited for her to open the door and climb in.

"I'm not too far from home," she said, climbing into the car and taking a seat beside him. Her arousal flared, being close to him after so many days of denying him access to her house. Since the night they had sex, she done her best to avoid him. Maze knew why. Fear struck her deeply, as it understood why she kept running from him. Subconsciously, she knew she would have to stop running.

"Where's Jimmy?" Thomas demanded, waiting as she set the umbrella in the back of the car and placed her wet basket on her lap. He watched her from the corner of his eye and pushed down the sudden need of her.

"He's gone on ahead to the house to drop off the boxes of goods," Maze replied, casting a glance at Thomas, ignoring his rising anger.

"You're not to go anywhere without him," Thomas reminded her as he pulled away from the sidewalk.

"I'm a big girl now, Thomas. I can handle myself," Maze replied simply.

"Right," Thomas muttered.

His skin itched being near her again. Their last encounter had him wondering if he was mad for trying to hunt her and seduce her until she submitted to him. The horrendous knock on the door, interrupting his seduction, nearly found someone shot that day. He shuddered viciously, trying to shove that afternoon far down in his mind. Since that day, being around her was excruciating. She refused to take him back to her bed, and frankly, he wanted to know.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her scratch her forearm. They rode quietly toward her house until the car came to a slow stop. The rain hadn't let up since he picked her up. Jimmy's truck was down the road, the bed empty and no one sitting in the driver's seat.

"Thank you for the ride," Maze said, shifting in the seat before reaching around to grab her umbrella. She would have to buy a sturdier one soon. He watched as she climbed out of the car and something in him told him to follow her. He wanted her like he needed air to breathe.

He shut the car off and climbed out of it before she could protest. At that moment, he didn't give a fuck what people said. Chasing her around the car, he followed her up to the front door. He wanted to touch her, place his hands on her hips and jerk her close to him, but didn't.

He couldn't sense Jimmy anywhere, but heard a distinct noise like a box being dropped far under the house. The door unlocked as Thomas nearly pushed her inside and out of the rain.

Quietly, he followed her down the short hallway and into the kitchen, where she sat the basket down and removed her hat. He listened as the cellar door closed and Jimmy's departure.

"I know you have things to do instead of spending time here," Maze said, setting her hat down on the table, unaware of Thomas's eyes on her.

Just him being near her had Maze fluttering. She wanted his hands on her as he took her upstairs to her bed and fucked her until she couldn't think straight. But she resisted him at every turn. It wasn't as if she didn't want him, but she didn't want to get involved with someone in this lifetime when she knew he couldn't come back with her. She didn't want to ask her boss if he could, fearing that the answer would be no.

It didn't help that she had been in love with Thomas Shelby since she was a girl of fourteen. Their last encounter had her whimpering and nearly begging him to stay until he had to leave. It was maddening how frustrating it was that he left every time she almost caved.

Her eyes closed as a finger slid down her spine. Maze could feel him behind her, his body almost too close for comfort. Her breath hitched as he pulled her loose hair away from her, exposing her neck to him.

A brush of chapped lips against her damp skin made her knees buckle.

His body was moving in slow motion. His mind singularly focused on the woman standing in front of him. Thomas brushed her soft skin with his lips, feeling her buckle underneath him. A slow smirk crossed his lips as he placed his hands on her hips and jerked her tightly against him.

A soft whimper escaped her lips, fueling him to caress her body over the cumbersome clothing she wore. He wanted to shred her clothes off her while his hands and lips devoured her skin. Bunching the blouse in his hands, he tugged it loose from the waistband of her skirt before snaking his hands up the front, caressing her stomach.

"Submit to me Maze," he ordered softly in her ear.

He knew she wanted to fight him, but he was tired of letting her get away with it. She was his fucking mate and tonight she would know it. Sliding his hands down her forearms to her hands, he placed them on the wooden table in front of her, trapping her.

"Don't move your hands," he instructed, feeling her body warming under her clothes.

He slid his hands up her blouse until it touched the top button. Undoing every button slowly, he felt her squirm against him, arousing and urging him further to undress her. His fingers tickled along the smoothness of her stomach before dipping into the waistline of her skirt.

"Submit to me," he ordered softly again, this time his voice darker than usual. He kissed her earlobe before giving it a little suck. He placed his hand on the side of her head as she arched against him, giving him her bare neck to ravish.

He grunted low, his eyes shifting as the wolf urged him to fuck her on the kitchen table. Thomas hissed as her arse swayed against his thickened cock, enticing him into mindless lust.

Unsatisfied with her non-answer, Thomas spun her around to face him and pulled her close to her. His amber eyes displayed as he stared into her dark eyes. Thomas could feel her breath puff against his chapped lips before he leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

Lifting her up on the table, the basket pushed back until it fell off the other side. He stepped between her bunched up skirt.

"Say it, Maze," he demanded, his lips brushing hers gently. Her arousal rolled around him like a warm blanket, smothering him until he couldn't breathe properly.

Maze knew she was fucked the second he touched her. She didn't want him to stop. Gasping as he unbuttoned her blouse, she felt like her body was aflame like a thousand candles burning. His words rolled over her, urging her to comply with his demands.

She was tired of fighting him, tired of telling herself no. Thomas was going to have her, and once she submitted, she knew he wouldn't let her go again. Wouldn't give her another chance to back away from him.

Before she could blink, he spun her around to face him. His amber tinted eyes aroused her, knowing what lurked just beneath the surface of his skin. Maze opened her mouth but moaned, feeling his hands shove her skirt around her hips.

He pushed her upon the table, shoving her legs wide so he could step through. His voice, deeper and darker than usual, sent delicious shivers through her body, electrifying her nerves.

"Yes." the words tumbled from her lips as he captured her lips into another searing kiss that turned her brain off.

The moment he pushed inside her wetness, his lips canvassing her tits before sucking on a pert nipple, he was in heaven. The slow execution of his movement drove him wildly insane, but feeling her body move with his was all he wanted. A bead of sweat rolled down his back until it dripped off the side of him.

His lips found hers again, bruising them as her nails raked down his body. The sharpness of her nails on his skin increased his desire for her. Her body arched forward as he rose to grip her hips roughly in his hands. Fluidly, he reached down and pulled her up, his hands on her arse as she rode him.

He wanted to bite her as he buried his head into the crook of her neck. He wanted to mark her as his, letting everyone know she belonged to him. The thought of marking her drove him mad as he continued to fuck her.

"Come for me Maze," he whispered against her chapped lips. He wanted her to scream his name, to hear it fall from her lips, reminding her who gave her this pleasure.

He felt her walls clenched tightly around him as she rode out her orgasm. Her hand wrapped around his neck, holding onto him for dear life as he followed her a second later. Shuddering, he heaved a large breath before lowering them to the bed, her body cradled against his.

Resting his head on her chest, he closed his eyes, savoring their coupling. He was hers, as she was his. Warm fingers caressed his damp hair as they laid there until he rolled himself off her and pulled her close to him.

The silence that followed unnerved him, but he prepared himself for the onslaught of questions she would have. He felt her head rest gently on his bare chest, her short nails combing the skin. He sucked a breath through his teeth as his need for her rose again.

Maze silently shuddered against him. Their coupling still playing like a broken record in her head. All she wanted to do was roll on top of him and sink herself on his cock, but there were questions that burned in her mind. Questions that needed answering. Ones that she should have asked before allowing him back into her bed.

"Thomas," her voice whispered in the dimly lit room.

"Yes?" he replied, quietly staring up at the ceiling, his fingers caressing her arm.

"What did you mean to submit?" she rose from her prone position to look down at him.

He turned his head, realizing it was time to tell her what he learned. Wetting his lips, he shifted his body until it was turned toward her. Sliding a hand down her arm, he looked down, contemplating his next words.

"I read the Grimoire," he breathed. "I learned many things…"

"Like what's between us?" she interrupted, fingering her tousled hair.

"Yes," he wet his lips again. "Submitting is giving yourself to me and only me. I believe humans call it courting, but it's more than that."

Her mouth dropped open, and she trembled slightly beside him. "What does that mean?" Intellectually she understood the protocols for courting, but with him it felt different.

"You're mine. It's the term shifters use for their 'courting' process. Except…" he paused, coming to a sitting position. "But it's more than that. I can claim you are mine, but it won't be accepted until we… mate."

"I think we've already done that…" Maze smirked lightly, leaning to give him a soft kiss.

"It's not permanent until the Spring Equinox. Then you become my Luna. That means you are mine, just as I am yours. There won't be another woman for me."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I didn't know how too." he confessed. "I didn't want you to feel you had no control over who you wanted to be with."

Maze nodded hesitantly, slowly trying to understand his world. It wasn't often that she inquired about the supernatural part of his life. She could understand why he didn't tell her immediately. She wasn't sure her reaction would have been sedate, knowing she was going to be permanently his.

"So it's like being married?" Maze asked, biting on her lower lip.

"Not quite. There's a ritual and a…." he paused, shuddering as the next words escaped his lips, causing her to raise an eyebrow at his reaction, "I have to mark you. Of course, I will marry you by human laws."

"Do I want to know what that means?" Maze prompted, watching him intently.

Instead of answering her, Thomas scooted closer to her, burying his head in the crook of her neck and inhaling her scent. The thought of marking her sent his emotions into hyperactivity. She had to strain to hear his next words. "I have to….," he rubbed his lips over the spot between the shoulder and neck. Hearing her moan quietly, he bared his teeth. "…. bite you here after I fuck you."

He kissed the spot gently, struggling as he forced himself to back away from her. Looking at her, he could see his amber tinted eyes reflect in her brown ones. His mind warred within itself, wanting to fuck her and mark her in this bed. The ritual and protocols be dammed.

Maze's emotions were at war. Her body ached to be under his again, and her mind fought relentlessly to understand his meaning. Her mind thought furiously about their encounters since her teens. The time he found her during the war and his reaction to her every time since their arrival flashed through her mind. Putting the pieces together, tears slipped down her cheeks as she realized something.

"It's why you were so angry with me for going to war, isn't it? I'm your…. your wife."

"Yes," he confessed, pushing aside his desire for her. She needed answers from him. "I didn't understand it until I read the Grimoire. It's been you since I first shifted, and will continue to be you long after."

Maze nodded her head slowly. Biting down on her lower lip, she glanced at him. "What now?"

"I can't let everyone know about us," he began, raising an eyebrow, seeing she was about to protest. He shook his head vehemently. "Campbell is out for blood. I won't have him know what you are to me. Not until he's gone will everyone know."

She could hear the final order in his voice, but could only nod. Maze leaned forward, a little relieved to know that she wasn't mad for wanting him as she did. As she pressed her lips against his, his hands slid around her waist before pushing her back into the mattress.

Arthur sat at the desk in the small office of the Garrison. In front of him was the open ledger for the bookkeeping. When Thomas gave him the pub, he didn't realize it came with so much work. Jotting down a number that he could only guess was the right one, he grumbled, scratching it out.

Reaching for his empty glass of whiskey, he poured another glassful and took a sip as he leaned back into the chair. He could hear the clinking of bottles and light chatter coming from the heart of the pub. He wanted this to succeed. Since the days of the war, he wanted his own pub and now he had it at the expense of Harry. The old landlord didn't want to give the pub up, but with some…. persuasion he caved to the Shelby's demand.

He picked up a stack of money to begin counting to make sure it was all there when he saw Grace walk past the opened door carrying a crate of something. He continued to count until she spoke up, interrupting his thoughts.

"These cigarettes have a strange smell, Arthur," Grace said, picking up a box and sniffing it. "They smell like rotting water."

Slightly frustrated, he sat the stack of money down beside the opened ledger and sat back in the chair. He would have to do it later.

She handed him a box of cigarettes. "Rats have gotten into some of them," she said, flicking the box closed.

Arthur took it from her and looked over the box, seeing a torn hole in the box's corner. Cursing silently, he was going to have to tell Tommy about this. They couldn't sell cigarettes if they were rat-eaten and damaged.

"They're stolen, aren't they?" Grace asked, keeping her eyes away from the desk and the ledger.

"That's none of your concern," Arthur snapped. He hated when people questioned him about contraband. It wasn't any of Grace's business. If Tommy wasn't interested in her, Arthur would fire her that day for being nosy.

"Now would you come check my adding up, please?" Arthur asked exasperatedly. He knew his numbers, but it was safer to have an extra set of eyes check it for him.

Grace huffed at his tone, but walked over anyway. Setting the tin of cigarettes down hard on the desk, she leaned over to pick up a pen to check his adding.

"You should find a new place to store the cigarettes," she said, pressing her luck. "They're not fit to sell."

Slapping the box down on the desk, "It has to be far away from the coppers."

She chuckled at him, "But not rats?"

Arthur tensed at the question. For a barmaid, she asked a lot of questions that weren't any of her business. She might be good with serving drinks and checking his adding, but no one who ever associated with the Shelby's asked this many questions. Another issue to bring up with Tommy.

"All wharves have rats," he said carefully.

"What about a dry warehouse?" Grace asked, running the pen over the ledger.

Another question. If he didn't know any better, he would think she was fishing for information.

"Tommy's orders," he said. If Tommy wanted this woman around, then he would have to deal with her questioning their operation.

It never occurred to him she targeted Arthur because no one else would speak to her.

"He wants to keep the contraband at petrol boat moorings," Arthur explained, giving her a smile. He didn't care about cigarettes or whiskey. They were easily replaced.

"Aren't those searched?" she asked, clearly fishing for more information. It was her job to find out where the guns were.

"We moor them at junctions," he said, tapping the side of his head.

If the cigarettes and whiskey were picked up by the coppers, they could order new and sell them at a better price. It would be a nice way to get rid of the contraband that was damaged.

"Your brother breaks the law but has rules," she said offhandedly, as she walked out of the office.

"Do my numbers add up?" Arthur called from the office as she walked past the piano.

"They do now," she called back as she slipped around the bar, keeping the information tight to her chest about the wharves. From now on, the Shelby's would have a hard time getting their contraband into the city. She would hand over the information, hoping that Campbell could find the guns and she could leave this job behind her like a bad memory.

Two days later, Thomas stormed into the Garrison looking for Arthur. After spending a weekend away with Maze in the future, he wasn't in the fucking mood to deal with Arthur's fuck up, but business needed to be taken care of. Seeing the pub empty, he kept walking, knowing his brother was around somewhere. Pushing the door open to the office, he found him sitting there with a half empty bottle of whiskey.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked, sitting up in his chair.

"The coppers found the cigarettes and whiskey at the wharves, Arthur, that's what's wrong," Thomas snapped, leaning against the doorframe. "No one knows where the contraband is, but the coppers found all four wharves."

Arthur opened his mouth, trying to find an excuse for what had occurred two days ago. A growl escaped his lips when his brain caught up that Grace used him for information. "Grace came to me complaining the cigarettes were ruined, we talked, and that was it. I looked at the cigarettes. If the coppers got them, then we can sell contraband that isn't rotting."

"And you neglected to tell me about this?" Thomas asked, his eyes flashing.

"I haven't seen you in two bloody days," Arthur shot back.

"You could have left a note or something," Thomas replied angrily.

Arthur sat up in the chair and glared at his younger brother. "I don't fucking work for you, Tommy. We're in this together."

"And you made a decision telling no one?" Thomas spat. "Good thing there was only whiskey and cigarettes in there."

"I can make decisions in this operation," Arthur snapped, rising to his feet. "I'm not your fucking lackey. We would make more money with fresh cigarettes, anyway. No one wants to smoke rotting cigarettes."

"That's not the point," Thomas replied.

"What about you and your secrets, eh? Are you going to tell any of us what those are?" Arthur countered. He would not back down from this with his brother.

Thomas shook his head. "That's my business."

"Yea, well, make it everyone's business," Arthur spat.

"Who asked the questions?" Thomas inquired.

"Grace."

"I'm done here," Thomas said, turning around and slamming the door in Arthur's face just as Grace walked in from the back of the store.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, looking at Thomas, then the closed door to the office. She heard them arguing, but didn't dare get close enough to hear what was being said. But if she had to guess, it was about the cigarettes and whiskey that were taken by the coppers.

Thomas huffed, reaching for a cigarette. Once it was lit and between his lips, he looked at Grace, who was waiting patiently for an answer. "Everything is fine."

Thomas stormed out of the Garrison. He thought furiously about who could have told the coppers, and then he realized something. He paused his walk in the middle of the street and turned around to look at the pub. Arthur said Grace had been asking questions and probably gleaned the idea from her about the unusable cigarettes.

Suspicion shook him as he stared pointedly at the Garrison. This wasn't the first time someone told him that Grace asked questions that weren't any of her business. Now the coppers knew where they stolen cigarettes and whiskey were, he would have to find a new hiding place.

His weekend away with Maze brought an air of relaxation that he didn't think was possible for him. Their conversation about her being his mate cleared a burden from his shoulders. While they hadn't spoken about it during their quiet two days, he was clearly aware of her shifting attitude.

The sex…. he took a shuddering breath to calm himself. The sex was intense between them. He enjoyed learning every inch of her body and how she sounded to his ears.

That night, he waited outside the pub for Grace to leave her shift for the evening. Anger pooled in his veins as he waited, but he needed to stay calm, at least for a while. Right on cue, she walked out of the pub. He waited until she locked the pub before talking to her.

"Arthur's told me you've been asking questions," he began, glaring at her. "About how we run our operation?"

He saw the look she gave him. He didn't like it. Though he came up with a plan to make sure he could keep a better eye on her.

"I'm just trying to help," she explained vaguely.

He didn't know who or how she thought she was helping. There wasn't another person who could have informed the coppers about the wharves. He had made discreet inquiries earlier that day about what they saw when the coppers arrived at the wharves. No one reported anything to the coppers, so it left someone close to him that snitched.

"Let's go for a walk," he said, pushing himself off the crate and begin his walk away from prying eyes and ears.

He didn't tell her where they were going. She needn't bother to ask him. He didn't trust her, but he wanted to see if she would lie further to him. They walked quietly toward the church. It was one of the few places the Shelbys could speak, with no prying ears. Entering the church a few minutes later, he enjoyed the silence that followed as they walked down the aisle to sit in the vacant chairs.

"You're a good Catholic girl, aren't you?" he inquired, already knowing the answer was no.

"Yes," Grace answered slowly, unsure of where this conversation was going.

"Then you know people come to church to confess their sins," he mentioned lightly. His nose twitched, smelling the fear coming off her. She wasn't terrified of him, that was for certain, but she was fearful of being found out. It made him wonder what she was hiding. When he pinned her as a rich girl, he knew he wasn't lying.

There was something about her he didn't feel he could trust. There were so many times that trust could be broken before he no longer trusted that person. If she told him the truth, he would be satisfied. The only way he figured he could keep a better eye on her was to keep her close. It was something Maze had told him years ago to keep his enemies closer to him in case they stabbed him in the back.

Letting her sit down first, Thomas sighed, taking his own seat. He wouldn't let her in on the illegal business, but he could place her in the legal aspects. "I'll confess Grace. I need someone to keep accounts and run the legal side of the business," he began.

"You have ideas, Grace," he explained, not looking at her.

"I'm not an accountant nor a lawyer," Grace answered.

"No," he agreed. He needed to convince her she would be useful to him. "Unlike many women I've met, you've got something they don't….class."

Grace blushed, ducking her head at his compliment. This was going far better than she originally thought. She had hoped that asking a few questions directed at Arthur would send Thomas her way. Thomas wasn't responding like she wished him to, so she had to go around and make herself nosy.

"I need someone to look nice at big meetings, like Epsom and Ascot…." he continued, trailing off and turned his head to look at her.

"Is this a job interview?" she asked, interrupting him. She sincerely hoped it was. It would be her way into his organisation.

He could have smirked. She took his bait without suspecting his intentions.

"You're good with numbers and keep the books in order," he explained.

She chuckled. "Arthur's quite poor with numbers and the books were chaotic."

"But you're a liar," he dropped, watching her reaction. Then he smelled it…. fear. His eyes nearly rolled in the back of his head as he inhaled her reaction to his accusation. It was a reaction that he didn't like.

He remembered listening to Maze as she put forth her suspicions about Grace. Saying how Grace kept asking her questions about him and what they did. Maze thought Grace was trying to learn something about the Shelby's that needed to stay hidden.

He wondered how much Ada told her when he and Freddie were having their little… conversation.

"No Catholic girl would walk into a church and forget the sign of the cross," he continued his reasoning.

"You're very perceptive," she muttered, her heart racing as fear overtook her.

Her fear was intoxicating to the wolf in him. It made her easy prey for someone like him. "First, you lie about the pub you didn't work at and now I find out that you're a Protestant."

"Do you care?" she asked hesitantly.

He cared. Everyone lied occasionally. Some more than others, but he needed someone who didn't lie to him. "No, I don't."

"This isn't a job interview," she finally realized what was happening. "This is an interrogation." Grace rose from the chair to move away from him and leave when he ordered her to sit back down.

"You know what most of what I do is illegal?" he asked, shifting around in the chair to look at her properly. "And you're still wanting to work for me?"

"Are you offering the job?" she asked again, her hopes getting up.

He was going to give it to her. Thomas needed her close to monitor her, so when things went bad, she would be the one to take the fall. The mystery of her appearance in Small Heath excited him and he couldn't wait to learn her secrets. And he would… and when he did, it would be the last time she would look at him.

"Then I accept," she said gleefully. She was finally a part of his operation. The hard part was over, at least for now. Now it would be to keep up her appearances while hunting around for information on the whereabouts of the guns.

Then she reached over, hoping that he would sense what she was going to do. To cement their now working relationship. Pressing her lips against his, he sucked in air and pulled away from her.

"No," he replied quietly. "That won't do."

"Why? What did I do wrong?" she asked, feeling like all the information was wrong. He didn't fancy her in any way.

"Business and pleasure don't mix, Grace." he answered before rising from his chair and walking away. "I'll show you around tomorrow." He pushed the door open to the outside, leaving her alone in the church and wondering what went wrong.