#protective mob!tom

 "Are you waiting for a friend, or should I get you a drink? " Called the bartender. They seemed to always talk, she supposed it was their job to.

The bar seemed to grow quiet with a chair scrapping in the distance. She asked for a pint of beer.

 Rooting around in her purse for a while, she wondered how long it would take her friend. Perhaps her mind had wondered too far to hear his voice, but she snapped out of her daydream when a man's hand slammed a bundle of change on the countertop.

"£2.50." He answered grimly. 

Her nose was immediately met with a passionate scent of whiskey, the man's ginger bound of curls brushed back and a pink scar on his lip. His clothes were loose yet pulled tight in some areas. His fashion sense was old, a dark blazer contrasting with his good chain, the attire pulled together with pants and squeaky clean shoes. By his whole outlook, she seemed to sense he wasn't as prefect as he seemed to be.

 "Harry." He grinned. It curled, his smirk, folding into a bittersweet Cheshire cat smile.

 "I'm Y/N."

 "And?" He laughed darkly. She raised her brows in question. "Y/n what?"

 "Y/N Y/L/N, why do you want to know?" She turned from him, swirling her drink, deciding to let how the bartender hurried from them after giving her the drink pass.

A beat went by. The men in the corner seemed to quiet down a touch.

 "You know a Kendra Hunt right?" Harry asked. His voice was cool now. Collected. 

"I- yes I do." Kendra had invited her here, tonight. Maybe he was someone she'd set her up with? 

The pads of Harry's fingers reached for her wrist under the countertop. Like little butterfly touches, yet each one was so warm that her stomach seemed to turn.

"She tell you why?" He looked behind him at the men in the corner of the room. His fingers latched onto her wrist, and her throat choked up. She nodded a yes. She knew that this wasn't a meet up at all, but the idea still seemed so sweet.

 Another beat went by, "Where is it?"

Y/N went completely still. 

Where is what?

"Tell me, now. Where about, take me there." His words seemed to shoot out, the rush of adrenaline wafting off of him. 

His calm demeanour wearing away. She could practically taste his impatience.

 "What? I don't understand -"

"The money -" He noticed her cold sweat, "Y/N, love, tell me, now."

Money? She was going to drop dead. Had her friend planted her in a mess she wasn't responsible for? She'd left her here, purposely, as a bait.

Harry took to silence her just in case a plea of scream would come out of her slack mouth, and pulled her closer to him by the hold on her wrist.

 "Be quiet." He snapped, "She must've sent you here as a bargaining chip, or bait. Are you that stupid to think that she could afford all that stuff with what she earns normally?"

"Please." Y/ N cried. It was supposed to be a normal night.

Harry stroked her cheek with a sinister smile, "You know, my brother Sam thought it'd be funny for me to go get the pretty girl Tom's been eyeing. Poor girl, poor manipulated baby. The real bad people always act innocent."

She shook her head like a wild animal, "Kendra and I haven't seen each other in months. It was a night out tonight. Harry, whoever you are, I can't even pay my rent, I don't have time for shady stuff. I didn't even touch it, I had no idea she even owed you money. Please, please don't hurt me. " 

"Your friend took money off Tom." Harry stated. He seemed to shake with pent up energy. Would he let it out on her? "She probably spent it on booze and drugs. She hasn't given it back, and her time's up. She said you would be coming to give it to me tonight, but she probably sent you here to distract us while she gets away. Do you know where she is?"

"No, please let me go."

"Its not that easy love. If we don't get that money I'll hurt you. Give me your phone."

He took her phone with his spare hand, calling over a friend, "Harrison! I've got her phone. Try and track her. "

"Are you going to kill her? Are you the boss-"

She felt heavy breath at the back of her head. Harrison maybe? He couldn't get there that quick.

"No, he's not the boss."

Harry seemed to perk up suddenly, "Tom."

Y/N turned. This was Tom. In his all drunken and god-like glory, suit tight and golden chain sparkling like the sun, his scent warm and strangely comforting. His sweetly shaped eyes that seemed as dark as coal, and the only thing except his current state that was unkempt was his brown curls.

"The Hunt girl sent her to us as bait. Tom, I thought you were celebrating tonight? It's another successful transaction between businesses. "

"This one isn't successful," Tom couldn't seem to look from her, the two of them entranced, "I don't like people not telling me about business. You told me Hunt had paid up." 

" Tom -"

"Don't 'Tom' me, idiot."

"Oi, both of you. You make a scene and our reputation goes up in pretty little flames. And If either of you want the girl to live, I suggest setting a good example so no more witnesses have to die, again." It was certainly Harrison now, a fresh head of Sandy blonde hair and blue puppy dog eyes.

Tom turned to him, "You knew too didn't you? " and pulled Y/N up by the hand, pulling her after him in a tantrum.

Harry and Harrison called after Tom from behind, receiving drunken mumbles of 'lady's bathroom '.

"What are you doing?" She cried, as he dragged her into the women's.

He propped himself up on a sink, pulling a lighter and a fresh cigar from his pocket, "Silence. Sweet silence. You can pee now without your little best friend, I'll just be minding my own business. "

Y/N could run, but the threats had nearly scared her enough to make her pee on the spot. So, she cautiously entered the toilet, and began to pee.

A beat went by, "If you're wondering, my father gave me this as a present as a kid. That's why we 're here. We haven't been in years. Just back to keep our reputation fresh."

"My brother threatened you." He folded his arms and she furrowed a brow, "He talked to me about you after you left. I know you're not responsible for this. Forgive Harry, he's violent. Don't call the police on him either, they don't come here, they know better." The dark in his eyes intrigued her.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea, at all. She wrote my name down -"

" - and put you right in the middle to stall us, and then ran. Harry tried calling her. She left. Probably ditched the phone." His outfit was the same as Harry's, except darker and sharper. Clean cut. It suited him, really well.

He snatched toilet paper from a stall at the sight of her watering eyes, and handed it to her. Tom then leaned into the sink behind him. 

"I'm not good with sappy, emotional stuff, forgive me. And I'm not even supposed to go into the women's toilets but I wanted to check on you. After all, I have been staring at you all night. "

 A chuckle came from Y/n. He was cunning. Yet she felt drawn to the accent, the skin, the eyes and the hair. The death-threats hovered to the back of her mind for a second. The cold breeze, cold feeling, that came with him felt luring. 

A predator with prey. Oh lord, she didn't want to die. Even when the silence stretched out over them, she wanted to plead for her life.

And while she stressed over pleading, his thoughts were too twisted in the feels pulling painfully at his gut. A bad feeling washed over him. He had to make decision -and quick- and hope to not feel guilty about it.

He began again, "I want you to leave, right now with no but's, and don't ever come here again. " He rushed out, "No one's gonna come after you, as long as you don't interfere with us again, understand? I'll tell Harry that you ran, and make sure he won't go after you. I'm his boss. And if you tell anybody that I let a client go without giving me my money, I'll send him. Go before I change my mind."  

Her eyes caught with his brown ones. He smelt like strawberries and bourbon, and she could breathe him in all day. Perhaps on a rainy afternoon on the couch. 

"Do I have to repeat myself?" 

She looked at his curls. They were soft, so soft.

 "What, do you want my number or something? I'll get your phone back to you in a day or so, and who knows, you might just get that number." He joked with a wave of his hand. The longing silence coming from her was his only answer. 

She pressed her hands against the door and smiled at him, "Thank you. Goodnight, Tom." And set off, like the wind had swiped her off her feet.

He spun on his heal a beat after her exit. They lived around the same area, they would see each other again, right?

She hadn't given him a goodbye.  She'd given him a Goodnight.