II. Black hand.

The night before Christmas, Tommy and Maude were gathered in the drawing room with their children. Maude cradled Amelia on her hip as she watched Tommy pour a glass of whiskey before grabbing a plate with a sausage and small pies on it. "Right, now, this is your job, Charlie." He said as he crouched down next to his son, handing him both the plate and glass. "Now, give those to Santa, and Rudolf." He instructed.

Charlie carefully took the plate and glass, putting them down on the edge of the fireplace, right next to their big Christmas trees that had an overflowing amount of presents underneath. "Good boy." Maude praised her son with a soft smile. She looked over at the door as it creaked open and Francis stepped inside. She glanced over at her son. "It's time for bed."

Tommy turned to his son, opening his arms and Charlie immediately crashed his body against his father's hugging him tightly. "Now, night-night," Tommy whispered as he pressed a kiss to Charlie's forehead. " Merry Christmas. I'll see you tomorrow. All right? Sleep well." He said before getting up to his feet and turning to his wife, pressing a kiss to Amelia's forehead as well. "Goodnight princess."

Maude handed her daughter to Francis before turning to Charlie and ruffling his hair. "I'll come tuck you in, in a second." She promised him before he was led out of the room by Francis.

Maude turned to her husband, watching as he grabbed Santa's whiskey and finished it in one gulp. "We have to talk." He informed her as he poured himself another glass of whiskey.

Maude's eyebrows furrowed as she stared at him. "About what?" She questioned in confusion, following him towards the desk that stood at the far end of the room.

"I received this in the mail." He informed her as he picked up a card and handed it to her, finishing his second glass of whiskey in one gulp as well.

Maude silently stared at her husband for a second before glancing at the card, and slowly opening it. Her eyes widened at the big black hand printed on the left side of the card. "A black hand." She whispered as her stomach knotted and her eyes shot towards Tommy. "From who?" She questioned.

"Luca Changretta." He replied as he rounded the desk, placing his palms on the flat surface and leaning forward as he lowered his head.

The name sends a chill down Maude's spine. Changretta. The last thing she heard before being shot. A name that had haunted her nightmares for a long time. A lump formed in the back of her throat as she placed the card down on the desk, her hand trembling. "Vincent Changretta's son?" She asked softly.

"Yeah," Tommy replied with a nod of his head as he looked at her. "Everyone's got one, John, Arthur, Henry, and Daniel as well. Polly and Michael would've received one as well." He informed her as he stood up straight again. "Ada will go see them."

Maude took a shaky breath as she slowly nodded her head while processing the information. "What do we do?" She asked, her voice soft and her gaze on the card lying on the desk.

"I've spoken to Moss." He told her. "Moss says that Changretta is a soldier for the Spinetta family, which means that he'll have men with him, professional men. They usually operate in units of around ten." He explained as he began pacing next to the desk. "Moss is checking Cunard records to see if they're already in England. Changretta knows where we all live. If we stay out in the open, isolated, he'll pick us off one by one. We need to be together in a place even they won't dare to come." He said as he stopped and turned to look at her.

"You mean, back home?" She questioned as she raised her eyebrows.

He nodded his head. "Within a four-mile radius of the Garrison, every man is a guard and a soldier for us." He explained, running a hand over his mouth and down his chin as he sighed softly. "I'm calling a family meeting. Charlie Strong's yard, Boxing Day. Finn's already there. Ada will tell Polly and Michael, I'll deal with John, Arthur, and your brothers."

Maude slowly sat down in one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. "And Esme and Linda?" She asked him as her head tilted to the side, raising her eyebrows at him again.

"Anyone who wants to live to see another Christmas needs to come where it's safe." He demanded in a firm voice. "These bastards will kill kids as well." He said and Maude inhaled sharply, her eyes widening as her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Tommy stared at her silently for a second as he swallowed back the lump in his throat. "The kids don't stay with anyone who isn't family, no maids or nannies." He instructed.

She slowly nodded her head, her eyes burning as warm tears formed. "Agreed." She whispered as she lowered her head. Her heart ached in her chest as fear crawled through every inch of her body.

Tommy rounded the desk and approached his wife, gently taking her chin in his hand and lifting her head so that she'd look at him. "We're going to be okay, sweetheart" He assured her softly before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Maude nodded in agreement, sniffing as she wiped the tears from her eyes before getting up to her feet. "I have to go tuck Charlie in." She said softly, reaching out to grab Tommy's hand and giving it a soft squeeze before she let go and left the room.

She read Charlie his story and tucked him in, waiting until he was asleep before she went to search for Tommy, finding him in his study. The second she stepped into the room, his head shot up and he looked at her. "Maude." He muttered as he got up to his feet. "Have you met the new chef?" He questioned.

She was silent for a second, thinking of any instance where she had met the new chef of the house. She slowly shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "No." She replied, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Why?"

Tommy's jaw clenched as he stared at her. "Our head chef and sous chef, are Italian," he informed her in a low voice.

Maude's face fell faster than her heart. Her breath hitched as she stared back at her husband. "We have two Italians under our roof?" She asked him softly and he nodded in confirmation.

Tommy's fists bawled up by his side and his jaw tightened even further. "How do you fancy going to have a chat with them?" He asked as he quirked an eyebrow at her.

Maude's head slightly tilted to the side as she raised her eyebrows. "Should I have Johnny Dogs stand by for bodies that need burying?" She questioned, knowing her husband more than well enough by now.

Tommy's eyebrows rose as he inhaled sharply. "Let's meet the Chefs and we'll see." He replied and Maude pulled a face at him, a deep scowl on her features. She knew this would end in a blood bath. She just knew.

Tommy rested a hand on the small of her back as they made their way downstairs and into the kitchen. There were three men in the kitchen. Two were rolling dough, one older with graying hair and one very young with dark brown hair. The third man was sitting further away from them, peeling potatoes.

"Mr. Shelby, Mrs. Shelby." The graying man politely greeted them immediately when he saw them enter the kitchen.

Maude followed behind her husband as he eyed the men. He deemed the younger boy innocent enough and spared him no attention. But he approached the graying older man, eyeing him carefully.

"What's your name?" he questioned as he patted a hand on the man's back.

"Max, Mr. Shelby." The man replied with a Birmingham accent as he looked over at Tommy.

"Max," Tommy repeated with a nod of his head before he pulled his hand off the man and turned towards the third man in the room. Maude followed as he walked over to the man who peeled potatoes, a cigarette in his mouth. The dark-haired man simply looked up at the approaching couple. "It's all right, don't get up," Tommy muttered with a wave of his hand.

"Oh." The man spoke as he got up to his feet. He threw his cigarette on the floor and stomped it out. "Sorry, sorry, sir." He apologized for his disrespect, in a thick Italian accent.

Maude's heart dropped as she inched closer to her husband, resting her hand against his back. "You're new," Tommy said as he pointed toward the Italian man before pointing at himself. "I'm Mr. Shelby," he said before pointing at Maude. "This is Mrs. Shelby."

"Hello, sir." The man greeted Tommy with a nod before his gaze briefly flicked towards Maude. "Ma'am." He greeted.

Tommy coldly stared at the man. "We haven't taken time to introduce ourselves." He excused both him and his wife, who had both been lacking in knowing their staff, leaving all of it for Francis to manage.

The man silently stared at Tommy for a split second before he smiled. "Antonio." He introduced himself as his head quirked to the side.

Tommy slowly nodded his head before glancing down at the bucket of peeled potatoes. His gaze shot towards Antonio and he raised his eyebrows. "What have you done that's so wrong, eh?" He questioned.

Antonio's eyebrows furrowed as he slowly shook his head. "Excuse me?" he questioned in confusion.

"Sous chef, peeling potatoes," Tommy muttered in a low voice as he coldly stared at the man.

Antonio let out a lighthearted scoff of amusement. That sounded a little too much like relief. He was just as suspicious of them, as they were of him. "It's an emergency, late notice," he explained.

Tommy raised his eyebrows as he nodded his head. "Oh, late notice." He repeated as he glanced around before turning back to Antonio. "All right. All right, carry on." he insisted before turning towards the hallway that led to the walk-in fridge. Maude followed after him, eyebrows furrowing when he suddenly stopped, his hands flexing by his side before he pulled out his wallet. He turned back to the Italian as he pulled a wad of cash from his wallet. "Antonio...here, ten pounds." He said as he handed the man the money and Maude's eyes widened as she stared at her husband. "For the late notice," Tommy said, eyeing Antonio's unbothered expression as he pocketed that much cash.

Tommy turned back to the hallway, sharing a look with his wife before they entered the fridge, where another chef was skinning a variety of animals for Christmas dinner. The man was old, a little chubby with graying hair. The second Tommy closed the door to the room, the old man nervously looked over.

"You wanted to know if my guests would arrive before or after the King's speech?" Tommy questioned the chef who was in the middle of cutting a duck. The chef only nodded in response as he moved the headless duck to another table. "Eh?" Tommy questioned as his voice grew louder, unsatisfied by the man's lack of response.

"Yeah." The chef nervously replied as he nodded his head, staring at Tommy with cautious eyes.

"It'll be after," Tommy replied as he coldly stared at the chef, who nervously chuckled as he nodded his head. Tommy let out a dry chuckle as well. He eyed the man silently for a second, his gaze shooting towards Maude for a brief second before turning back to the chef. "How are you?" He asked.

The chef let out a nervous chuckle as he sharpened his knives. "Just... worried about tomorrow," he replied nervously as he shrugged his shoulders. Maude eyed his nervous demeanor as she crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes squinting at him.

Tommy nodded as he began pacing the length of the table, his gaze never leaving the chef. "Yeah, I'm worried about Antonio." He replied as he pointed towards the door, and Maude spotted the way the old man tensed up as he laughed Tommy's concern off. "You've been here two months and we've not met before, it's my fault." he insisted as he pointed at himself. "I've been busy." He explained before approaching the chef. "Thomas Shelby." he introduced himself as he held out a hand.

The chef nervously glanced down at Tommy's clean hand before looking down at his own hand, covered in blood. "My hand has blood." He muttered softly.

"Oh, mine too," Tommy replied with a shrug of his shoulder, keeping his hand outstretched. Hesitantly the chef took Tommy's hand and shook it and Tommy yanked him closer. "Hey, how much do you pay Antonio?" he questioned.

The chef's eyes slightly widened as he slowly shook his head, his gaze darting around. "I forget," he whispered as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Must be a lot," Tommy replied as his eyebrows furrowed, his hand still gripping onto the chef's. "I just gave him ten pounds, didn't mean a fucking thing to him." He said and the chef struggled to reply as he stared at Tommy. "Maybe it isn't you that pays him." He suggested. He silently stared at the chef who remained completely quiet. Tommy let go of the man and began pacing around again.

"I've been reading up on you. Bertorelli, Claridge's. You used to work in a place called San Marco's. On...On Fleet Street." He muttered and Maude's body tensed at the familiar name. "I used to know the man that owns San Marco's. A man called Darby Sabini."

"I've never met him." The chef replied softly as he slowly shook his head, struggling to keep eye contact with Tommy.

"No," Tommy muttered softly as he pulled out one of his guns and handed it to his wife while the chef watched with wide eyes. Maude shared a look with her husband, knowing that she was going to have to call Johnny Doggs before the night was over. "Maybe your, um, assistant Antonio, maybe he's met him," Tommy suggested as his attention turned back to the chef and his finger pointed towards the door. The chef tried to walk past Tommy, but Tommy grabbed him by the neck and pushed him back against the wall. Maude's finger hovered over the trigger of the gun that hung by her side. "Here's how it is. Antonio was sent from New York." he gritted out.

"I don't know, please." the man cried out as he shook his head, struggling against Tommy's firm grip on his neck.

"Darby Sabini facilitated. He passed him onto you, told you to bring him into my house, where my wife and children sleep." Tommy gritted out as his grip tightened around the man's neck. " They threatened to kill you if you didn't do it." He concluded but the chef remained silent. "Do you want me to dress you like you dressed that fucking stag?" he questioned in a low raspy voice as he pointed at the skinned animal hanging close by.

"Please, don't..." The chef pleaded as he shook his head.

"You know about me, right?" Tommy questioned as he raised his eyebrows and the chef nodded his head. "You know what I do?" He asked and the man nodded again. "You wanted to know when my guests would arrive 'cause Antonio needed me alone," Tommy muttered softly. "He's an assassin, the plan is to kill me tomorrow." He concluded. "I bet he doesn't know my wife knows how to shoot." He muttered as he glanced at Maude who gripped the gun in her hand.

"I don't know." The chef whispered as he shook his head. "They just said bring him here." He informed Tommy.

"Well, bring him here," Tommy demanded as he let go of the chef and turned to Maude. "He moves, you fucking shoot him." He instructed her as he pointed towards the trembling old man.

Maude turned to the older man who stared at her with wide eyes. She raised the gun, aiming it at his head. "Call him." She muttered as she quirked an eyebrow.

He took a shaky breath. "Antonio..." He called out loudly for the man in the other room, calling something in Italian.

Maude watched her husband as he grabbed a hook and stood with his back against the wall next to the door, listening to the approaching footsteps. The door opened and Antonio stepped inside, his gaze immediately landing on Maude. Before he could raise the gun in his hand, Tommy rounded the open door and slammed the hook into his chest. He let out a blood-curdling scream.

Tommy used the hook in Antonio's chest to slam him face down against a table before yanking him back and throwing him across another table, coating Antonio in the blood of the animal that had been slaughtered on the bloody table. Antonio hit the ground with a thud and Tommy grabbed him, pulling him up and pushing him face down against the table. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at the back of Antonio's head.

"You're a black hand!" Tommy yelled as Antonio struggled, his arms flying back to try and push Tommy away. "You're a black hand!" Tommy repeated as he pushed Antonio's arms back down. "How many came from New York? Eh? How many fucking came from New York?" he questioned.

"Vaffanculo!" Antonio spat in Italian.

"What did he say?" Tommy questioned as he looked up at the old man. "Is that a curse or a number, what did he fucking say?" he questioned.

Maude pushed the barrel of her gun against the old man's head, making him whimper. "What did he fucking say?" She questioned as she raised her eyebrows at him. Only the reminder that he brought an assassin into her home, was keeping her anger fueled and her gun pointed at his head.

"He said fuck you." the old man hesitantly informed Tommy.

"Yeah?" he questioned before glancing down at Antonio and pulling the trigger, flinching as blood spattered across his face. Maude's eyes slightly widened and the old man let out a terrified scream as he slapped his hand over his mouth. Tommy breathed heavily, staring at Antonio's limp body before approaching the old man, coated in blood. "Black hand means kill or be killed," he muttered as he raised his gun at the man while Maude lowered hers. "You go back to London, you tell Darby Sabini he picked the wrong side in this war. Once we've dealt with the Americans we're coming for him." He instructed. "Go on, go. Go." he urged and the man let out soft cries as he rushed towards the door. "Oi!" Tommy called out and the old man turned to him, his body trembling. "You tell anyone else, I'll come and find you," Tommy warned.

The old man nodded before he turned back on his heel and ran out of the room. Maude stared at the body of the Italian man. She let out a long sigh before glancing at her husband, eyeing the blood staining his face and shirt. She pursed her lips as she met Tommy's gaze. "Let's go clean you up, then we'll call Johnny."

-
Is it concerning that Tommy in Blood just does something to me? Yes... Anyways, Maude is a bad bitch with a gun and I love her.