Chapter 15) How the shepherd lost his sheep

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It took him a week to find her, by coincidence, because Arthur wanted to blow off some steam. There were only two ways for his brother to blow off some steam; getting piss drunk or getting to a brothel and he was already drunk. Arthur probably had a secret agenda for him to tag along.

Losing his voice for the second time had hit him hard. He found himself back in a nomansland, unable to fully connect. He'd been dwelling inside the stables and drinking himself silly. Although it may seem strange for Arthur to get him to a place you where suppose to drink yourself silly it showed his brother cared for him and wanted to get him out of his isolation.

Tommy drove himself and his already intoxicated brother to the Shepherd, one of Birmingham's more luxurious clubs, but a brothel nonetheless. Even the slowest copper knew the upper rooms were not used for storage. Tommy had been there a handful of times, for both business and pleasure.

"C'mon Tom!" His brother carved down two lines of cocaine on the backside of his leather notebook. "Brighten up a lil'!"

What did he honestly have to lose?

He snorted the first line and didn't give his brother a chance to pull his notebook back, he snorted the other one to; tonight he wanted to demolish all his inner demons with a mixture of booze, sex, and drugs.

The Shepherd had class, the walls decorated with subtitle printed wallpaper. A mixture of wicker and leather seats with a few booths on the window sides. Walking in, they were greeted with a visually stunning display of fine liquor, handmade wine cabinets, and marble decor. At the centre of the wide club was a small stage with exotic dancers, moving to the upbeat dance music. It was crowded for a Sunday night, the atmosphere was wild and tense. Or maybe that was the effect of the two lines he'd taken. He felt his jaws clench and balled his hands into fists, fury started to boil up in his system.

Arthur's drunken tongue did not ease his upcoming mood. His brother was loudly claiming how many whores he was going to fuck and how he was planning to kick in any bastards face who'd tried to stand in his way.

A waitress came over, being scolded by Arthur for serving the Shelby's late. The poor thing excused herself and quickly took the orders Arthur snarled at her.

Tommy kept aside, losing feeling of his upper lip, whatever Arthur had gotten his hands on, it was the good stuff, the expensive stuff. Probably bought it when he accompanied John to his Chinese prostitute.

"We should get ourselves a place like this Tom, not saying the Garrison is any less, but when we get bigger we need places like this!" Arthur observed the dancers and laughed loud. "A place with big tits!"

Tommy nodded dully and watched a brunette slowly unstring her corset. It was after midnight, all illegal activity dared to peep around the corners. Most coppers would be buying customers at this hour of the night, all good christian men were out of sight.

Thick mascara eyes met his all across the room, there was a hint of recognition and the brunette seemed thrilled of having a Shelby as a spectator. She bit her lush lips and carefully dropped her harlet's wear on the floor.

Maybe he would go for brunette tonight.

"Where ta get a drink in this joint?!" Arthur shouted at their waitress, the lass was already serving other people drinks and her tray was packed with glasses.

"I will get someone else, Mr Shelby!" She tried to ease his brother and stared around looking for another working girl. "Scarlet, get over here and serve these fine gentlemen drinks!"

For a moment the club froze up and the music muted, it was her, Maria. It was no surprise they hadn't found her yet. During the short period of her disappearance she underwent a drastic transformation. He hair had been dyed with henna, giving it a bright copper tint and was cut into a wavy bob, by a butchers knife by the looks of it, locks where unevenly and nervously tucked behind her ear as she picked up empty glasses. Wearing a sleeveless coral red flapper dress and makeup plastering every inch of her face, she seemed so out of her elements it was almost funny. Almost. This was his stable lass? The girl that blushed brighter than a red light by every hint of male attention?

Her thick mascara lashes blinked twice when she turned around to serve their table. Even under the thick layer of rouge Tommy could see her cheeks pale and she dropped the entire contents of her tray.

Even with the music playing the shattering glass was hard to miss. Arthur craned his head to trace the source of the noise, whistled through his teeth by the sight of the young beauty surrounded by broken shards. It took about three seconds before the penny dropped and his brother cursed.

"Fuck, Tom, it's her!"

His words had drastic effect on Maria. The girl swung her tray in Tommy's direction and jolted backwards to take a run to the nearest exit.

But Tommy wouldn't let her get away, not for a second time. Giving the table of his booth an enormous sideway push, he launched forwards. Within three steps he was close enough to clench his fingers around her wrist, before she had a moment to protest he yanked her backwards and shoved her in between Arthur and himself.

"Let me go, I'm working!" She did her best to sound determined but trapped between the two brothers she was scared her to death. "Let me go!"

Oh, how he wanted to slap her in the face and hug her at the same time. Tommy was fully aware that he was staring down at her as a madman. Pupils dilated, breath barely under control from the coke rush and his hand still clutched around her wrist. But he didn't care about her fearful expression, she'd scared him to death, disappearing without a word and leaving him to wonder what happened with her. She'd even made him feel guilty, because mostly bad things happen to pretty little things that ran away from home.

Well, this pretty little thing wasn't going anywhere.

"Tommy, please! Let me go!" She pleaded, trying to extract herself from their booth.

But he yanked her back onto the seat, whore, he mouthed and pinned her arm forcefully back into the leather cushions.

For a moment her fear changed into venom, he'd stabbed her deeply in her pride. "I'm a waitress, I'm not a-"

Tommy banged his free fist down onto the table, whore! Was she really this naive? Everybody knew The Shepherd and it's infamous owner; Silvester Russo. The Italian made his fortune in his early thirties and let's say his money didn't just come from selling drinks to thirsty mouths. No, Russo made his imperium by selling sex. The younger the better, or oriental. Does the buyer have a weird quirk or a dominant preference? No worry, the Shepherd had enough flock to fill up every kind of need. Russo would lure girls in, promising them the world and then slowly hooking them on cheap narcotics. In a matter of weeks Russo had them working upstairs.

And that thought really made him want to slap her across the face.

Tommy shot his eyes to his brother and drew a short line on the table.

Arthur reacted slow, questioning his younger brother's motives but replied by prepping a line of coke. He snorted the whole damn thing and took out his notebook, still not releasing his iron grip around Maria's wrist.

Get more cocaine, he wrote down and showed the note to Arthur, gesturing in the directions of the men's room, the cheap stuff was always easy to find.

Arthur took of, leaving him with his re-found -rather cheap looking- voice. She didn't seem very content about her regained job, and was still dead set to flee at any given opportunity. His reenactment of the night she ran away probably didn't do him any good.

Fuck, he could feel his hands twitch and tremble. Tommy wasn't sure where it came from, the alcohol or the drugs, but it was inevitably noticeable for the both of them. What in the world was he doing?

He needed to get out, get a fresh breath of air and clear up the mess inside his head. Without further notice he got up, pulled her up by her arm and walked into the crowd.

As the proud owner of Small Health's most luxurious club-slash-whorehouse, Silvester Russo always kept a keen eye on his flock. Tonight was not any different and Russo crossed them in the middle of the club.

"Mr Shelby," the plum Italian always had a self-indulgent feel about himself and addressed him short. Although their families did not hold a grudge against each other, they where no allies. Tommy despised the way Silvester made his fortune and post-war would never put that opinion under the table. Russo on his turn, looked down on Tommy's background, to him the Blinders where all gypsy scum, nothing more, nothing less.

"What are you doing with the newest member of my herd?" The Italian asked, running his finger through his slik, skillfully combed hair.

Tommy finally released Maria from his death grip, knowing she would not run with her new boss in plain sight. And he knew he wouldn't get her out with the Italian in plain sight.

He drew out his wallet and took out a few bills. He raised up the index finger of his right hand, One hour.

Maria's mouth dropped from utter shock. Russo noticed but didn't care, his empathy didn't go further then his customers.

"The bella is new, first timers are double," The Italian stated, extracting his hands to collect the extra fee.

Tommy took out three more bills and slammed it down in the man's greedy hand and grabbed Maria firmly by the shoulder.

When he dragged Maria further through the club she did not resist, still in shock of the deranged trade that happened right in front of her. Maybe she hoped he would lead her through the main doors, as a knight in shiny armour, get her out of this wicked place. She allowed him to push her through the searing crowd until they reached the stairs. That was when she knew he had truly paid for her innocence.

"No! NO!" She shouted, overruled by the music. Tommy didn't respond and yanked her up the first few steps. She drew back, tried to lunge at him. Tactically, he caught her fist and twisted her arm on her back. Being ex-military, she was no match for him, he'd overpowered men twice her size during battle and as a born and raised thug knew all the dirty tricks in the book.

With her resultless screaming for help he dragged her up the stairs and opened the door at the far end of the first flook.

The room was damp, used, and cheap, fulfilling it's duty without any form of luxury. It was more than enough, during drinks most men wanted to feel wealthy. But during paid sex, all civilery remained downstairs, all they wanted was be in control at that point.

He shoved her in and closed the door. With her blue teary doo-eyes she stared at him, still with a shimmer of hope.

"Please Tommy, don't do this to me, please!"

He didn't even acknowledge her and coldly took off his shirt. It was right then and there where she knew he would not let her go. He knight in shiny armour was no better than the beasts that she'd been serving drinks to.

Plain and simple instinct took over, for her it was flight or fight and since he was blocking her only exist he left her with no other option. She fought as a wild cat trapped in a corner when he grabbed her by the waist and threw her on the bed. She tried to winch away but had no space to go. He pushed her down by her shoulder and moved onto the bed, straddling her.

Maria's eyes filled themselves with fear as her assaulter locked his knees forcefully against her hips. She cried out in distress and lunged at him, her nails dug into the skin of his collarbone and drew blood. The stinging pain made him pause for a moment and he had to give it to her, she was a fighter when she was pushed to her limits, no flight, just fight.

The used bed creaked by the shifting of weight when he snatched both her hands and pinned them up against the headboard of the bed. Leaning forward to keep her hands in place they where close, noses almost touching, her rabit and shallow breathes tickled his lips and he could feel trembled run up and down her body.

She was utterly overpowered and she knew it. Squeezing her eyes shut she tried to kick and spat at him, tugging with her arms to get out of his powerful grasp.

He grunted frustrated by her actions and rubbed his chin over his shoulder to get rid of her saliva. With his free hand he took a good grip on her short hair and yanked her head back into the pillow. She cried out in pain and her tens motions relaxed for a mere second.

He used that moment to shove each of her wrists under his knees. Her sleeveless dress already exposed half of her chest, a flaky pink bra showed off her humble breasts. Yanking the coral fabric down further he shoved her head deeper into the pillow. By now her makeup was no more than smudges of red and black, running down her cheeks. With squeezed shut eyes she cried out one more time, gritted her teeth and used all her remaining strength to wiggle her limbs from under him.

He was in complete and utter control. Keeping a firm grip on her head he stared down at her useless motions with cold and distant eyes. After another toss and turn her weaker body failed and her muscles relaxed from exhaustion.

"Do it, get it over with!" She whispered sobbingly, waiting for the worst to happen.

By now the cocaine rush headed it's peek, with jaws still clenching and sweating like a madman he let go of the firm grip he held on her head and he sat back on top of her. It took her five long seconds before she dared to look through her mascara lashes.

Is this what you want for the rest of your life? He signed to her from above. Because this is exactly what you're getting for the rest of your life. He pulled her dress back up, covering her bra and leaned back a bit, allowing her some space and let her regain the use of her hands.

Maria drew her hands protectively to her chest as tears streamed down her face. Unable to speak she could only stare at him, questioning his motives.

Why the fuck did you ran away?! He signed, his coke indulged fury getting the best of him. Why did you come here to be someone's whore?! He smashed his fist into the headboard, the wood cracking in the process.

You are coming with me, he informed her not giving a damn what she had to say about the matter. He got off the bed, yanked his shirt from the floor and pulled it on, the blood from four fingernails staining the fabric. When he looked back at the bed she hadn't moved an inch, still in a state of shock. And that pissed him off beyond words.

Get up! When she failed to respond in time he swung her up by her shoulders and got her on her feet. He opened the door and halfway down the stairs noticed she was missing one of her heels.

As a good shepherd, Russo was waiting for his new sheep to return to it's master. He was not please with the state of his new employee and halted Tommy when he got down.

"Mr Shelby, this is no way of using other man's merchandise!" He spat and added a few curses in his mother tongue.

The fusion of cocaine, rage, and alcohol whispered to him to simply take out his gun, aim just above Russo's hooked nose and pull the trigger. Luckily Arthur stepped in as a angel on his right shoulder.

"Tommy, don't," His brother whispered in his ear from behind and took his wrist in a death lock to prevent him from pulling his gun. Rationality made him keep his rage inside, but he could feel himself close to snapping. He could feel his heartbeat race inside his chest and his subconscious, the layer beyond all logic, screamed at him to fight, fucking fight. Like back in the trenches, below the mud. No time for thinking, just fight. Fight!

"The lass is coming with us," Arthur informed Russo as well as a resurrance to his younger brother.

Russo saw Tommy's expression and knew his opponent's history. Calculated he turned towards Arthur. "That will cost you."

The oldest of the Shelby's took out his wallet and tossed the content down on the table: "This should be enough, for everything."

Russo's brows furrowed staring at the large amount of money slammed down on the ebony wood. "Everything?"

"Aye, everything!" Arthur repeated, snatched Tommy's gun from between his belt and hit the nearest manon the back of his head with the barrel.

The Shepard turned into a rampage, the first man dropped down unconscious from Arthur's blow. His friends where immediately on their feet for serious repercussions and threw themselves on Arthur.

Tommy, already half crazy from utter fury could not take a second of his brother being struck and unleashed his inner demon. Berserk, like a man possessed, he yanked a stool from under someone's arse and slammed it down on the biggest opponent. He hit him on the back, between the shoulderblades. It took him a second swing to get him off of Arthur and broke the wooden frame by the third hit.

Arthur laughed diabolically seeing his brother back in action and bashed his knuckles into the face of a seven feet long drunk.

Their actions didn't go by unnoticed. The music stopped, the dancers screamed, and heads got turned. Within seconds the club was all up its feet and more fighters ready to mingle. In an obscure club as the Shepherd a spark was enough for an explosion and Tommy felt ready to torch the entire place. He spat in someone's face, collided his knuckles with someone's jaw and threw a porcelain vase over the counter. A large number of expensive line of liquor smashed down on the floor, the bartender diving behind his counter.

Tommy could have been kicking and swinging until the early morning but Arthur thought they had done enough damage.

"We're going, Tom!" Arthur drew his brother of a sorry sod bleeding on the floor and dragged him on his feet. Tommy shoved him off, sprinted back at his last victim and screamed loud when Arthur wrapped his arm around his neck.

"Tom, let go, we're going!" Got hissed in his ear, his brother's bicep cutting of his oxygen. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and screamed again not caring if he sounded like an animal because that was exactly what he felt like. An animal, just fight, fight and go!

"Get yourself together!" Arthur voice now shouting in his ears, a guideline to stay in control. "Christ, Tom, we are going now!"

Unable to escape from his brother's suffocating grip he got shoved through the spectacle. By now half of the club was using their fists. Halfway through the exit Arthur spun Maria on her feet who'd been hiding behind a fallen down table.

Tommy got pushed passed the main doors, out into the cold and finally was granted to inhale. Coughing and spitting he sank through his knees and tried to get his breath under control.

""Keys, keys, get the bloody keys!" Arthur shouted and impatiently snatched the keys out of his brother's pockets when he was trying to get back on his feet.

Arthur shoved both his brother and the shivering girl towards their car, yanked the backdoor open he pushed Maria inside. Slamming her door shut he drilled his eyes into Tommy's. "Are you fit to drive?!"

Tommy stared at his twitching fingers and figured he would likely drive them into the nearest street light. He shook his head.

Arthur cursed out loud, kicked against the wheel and pointed at the car. "Well, I bloody ain't walking!"

Tommy got shoved into the passenger's seat and Arthur, a little shaky and very unfit to use any kind of vehicle in this state, sat down in the driver's seat.

Their ride away from the Shepherd remained in utter silence. Arthur fully focussed on his driving skills and Tommy rubbed his face, trying to regain control back over his rage.

Maria got sick all over the backseat after Arthur zigzagged through the mainstreet and earned a fair amount of curses and honks from passing cars.

"Where are we going with this one anyway?!" Arthur spat staring angrily through his rearview mirror at the nauseous, terrified, girl.

Tommy dusted of the coke from his notebook and wrote down, Charlie's Yard, I don't want her at the house.

In all honesty, now that the rage was washing away he didn't know what to do. Peeking over his shoulder he watched her crying in the back of the car. Dress covered with puke stains, bra showing, hair a mess and her make up everywhere but her face.

Arthur leaned over, tilting his head towards his. "You didn't rape her, did ya?"

His brother earned a hard slap on the back of his head for thinking that low of him.

"I take that as a no," Arthur muttered rubbing the sore spot.

Tommy grunted affirmative and did not grant his brother another gaze during their ride.

"What am I going to do with the bloody car?!" Arthur snapped repulsed when opened the backseat. The lights at Charlie's yard where dim but even with the humble amount of light it was clear the interior of the car was ruined.

Tommy scrunched his shoulders, the ruined material the least on his mind. Arthur cursed again, shoved his brother out and tried to politely ask Maria to get the hell out of the sodding car.

Frantic, she did was being told and shivering stepped down on familiar grounds, her dress torn and one foot bare.

"See you tomorrow Tom, mind you will pay for the fucking costs!" His brother said as a goodbye and drove off.

Will you walk with me or do I need carry you? Tommy signed down dryly. Maria did not reply but followed his footsteps as a lamb walking into the slaughterhouse. Questioning his motives she paused on the doorsteps of the stable.

Hesitant himself he started to realise what he'd been capable of. Now that the cocaine rush had ended it's peek, cold facts struck him like a sledgehammer. He'd wronged the Italian in his own house, which was a high offence. And he'd claimed their merchandise, didn't matter that she was a person of flesh and blood and her own free will.

There would be serious retributions on their behalf and Tommy made a small prayer that Arthur truly did mediate with the Lee clan, soon they would need all the help they could get.

Then it dawned to him what is brother had asked, You didn't rape her, did ya?

He'd been absolutely offended of the dishonourable offence, but when he fixed his eyes on Maria he could understand his brother's suspicions. She looked more fragile than she'd ever been. The dress that hours ago, had made her look chique and available, hung loosely and torn around her frail body. She'd kept her eyes on the ground but was aware of every move he made and flinched with he came in reach.

God, he felt tired, his body drained from narcotics and alcohol started to feel the damage. During the bar fight he'd received a good few punches in the face and he could feel his jaw and knuckles throb painfully. His back arched from a pair of firm boots being firmly planted between his shoulder blades and his throat felt sore from when Arthur choked him.

Clean yourself up, Tommy signed and pointed at a half filled bucket of water. Without a word Maria sank to her knees and washed off the largest amount of makeup, distancing herself further from being a harlet. She looked so young but lost her shimmer of innocents.

'This city does that to a person,' Tommy thought wry and then realised, 'We do that to a person.' The Peaky Blinders left their mark on anyone that crossed their path, calculated of either using or abusing their victim. 'I do that to a person.'

He tapped on the ladder connecting to the stable's upper floor, You can sleep upstairs, we'll talk in the morning. Do not try to run away! He warned her. Without a question Maria shakenly climbed the wooden steps.

Locking the stable in case she'd be foolish enough to cross him again he heard her soft weps coming from the attic.

A grunt escaped from the back of his throat, she could have had it so much worse. In retrospect he could have dealt with the matter far less aggressively, but he chose to ignore that part. He got her back, that was what mattered, although he knew she feared him now, he'd seen it in her eyes. The utter realisation of his overpowerment had struck her deeply; he could have his way with her whenever he wanted. No-one would bother to stop him. After all, he was Mr Shelby member of the notorious Peaky Blinders gang and nobody dared to cross him, not for a simple working class lass.

That made him slightly ill to the stomach, intimidating any girl in such way was not who he was. He could be a brute to men, unconcerned about the the pain his fist would cause. But he'd never lay a hand on a woman or child, it was not in his nature to hurt the weaker. Tonight his rage had taken the best of him and he'd done her wrong.

Possessiveness and betrayal had made him see red when he'd dragged her up the stairs and threw her on the bed. The whole farquaad that followed had been to teach her a lesson. In a way she'd been lucky he was the one paying for her first hour, but he highly doubted she'd see it like that.

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A/N I wrote most of this chapter months ago and I like how it all worked out. I really wonder, what did you think was going to happen when Tommy paid for her? Please share your thoughts. Next chapter might take some time, I haven't written it down yet and I'm still a little puzzling how to put everything together. Reviews do help to speed up that process.

Xoxox Nukyster