EAGLE EYES // Thomas Shelby

Chapter Three

I got my mail as I walked up to my mailbox, getting a letter from my brother. It was the only thing in there. I love the letters from my brother. Even though my mother thought it would be a good idea to have kids 12 years apart.

Dear O,

I want to know when you're coming back. I miss not having you here. It's annoying to deal with Eddie and Marcie all the time. They are so annoying. I would seriously do anything to live with you on base.

If only he knew.

Aunt Marcie got a copy of your paper a few days ago, she has not shut the hell up about it. She talks about it non stop. It's making me lose brain cells every time she says 'oh my, Octavia is doing so well over in Japan!' It seriously makes me so mad.

How are you? In your last letter you weren't very detailed on your little trip to Europe. I've always wanted to go there. I've been saving most of the money you've been sending me. It always helps. I'm currently getting a down payment on a house next to Sal's place. It's absolutely beautiful. I also got a girlfriend. I really like her. I want to marry her right now, even though I'm 15. She is just gorgeous. She kind of looks like mom in a way, and she reminds me of you sometimes.

Marcie says you'll be home soon. I really hope she isn't lying like she did last time. She says you shouldn't even be in the military. It's funny, she likes your work there but doesn't think you belong. It's odd. She always talks about you, what you do and what you don't do. She said she wants you back there to help with the bills... however that works. If I were you, I'd come back to America, get me, then go back to your favorite part in Europe. Not France though. I can't handle their classy lifestyle. I think Germany would be better. Maybe we could go to Columbia.

Please write back to me. All I've gotten from you is money. Even though I'm very appreciative of that, I like seeing your ugly handwriting. It still makes me mad how you don't dot your eyes or write in the correct form of capital and lowercase letters, but it's okay because it's you.

I miss you - Elio.

Even though the letter was short, it still made tears sting my eyes. I'm lying to him. I'm lying to the most important person in my life right now. My little fucking brother doesn't know if I'm okay or if I'm in danger. He wants me home.

Guess he's gotta wait. I gotta do my job first.

I folded the envelope up, sticking it in my pocket and going over to my safe where I keep all my guns. I took my blazer off and put my leather holsters over my shoulders, putting two revolvers on each side. I took a handful of bullets and loaded each gun, keeping a steady hand as I did.

Vito Callahan, Dylan O'Breavy were the ones that were going to lose their lives tonight. Such a shame they didn't have any kids, I'd only make them injured or without hands. That would be a lot easier than taking their pathetic lives.

I walked to the local bar which had a basement underneath. My fedora was covering my eyes as I walked through the door, giving the illusion that I was just a really skinny man. The bartender took note of this.

"Where is Callahan?" I asked, not making eye contact with him. He stuttered a bit. I rolled my eyes. "Give me the key right now, or you die." I said. He set the key in my hand and I smiled, walking to the back. The key went in the hole perfectly and I walked in, raising my weapon.

The three men at the table got up and pointed their guns at me. I shut the door and waited a second before shooting the first man's gun hand off, leaving him a whimpering screaming mess. The two started to shoot at me. I shot O'Breavy first, then the unknown man, then I injured Callahan. "Any last words?" I asked tauntingly as I held onto his arm stub.

"Go to hell, American." He said, then I shot him dead. I got their wallets out of their trouser pockets and pocketed what cash they had. I took their guns too. And their knives. They were actually pretty valuable, that's how I got money in England. I get paid in American money, then I steal peoples shit for English money. How fun.

"Sleep well sweetheart," I put their caps over their heads and walked out the back door to freedom. It was just a hit and run. There weren't any footsteps to cover up. Nobody knew me, nobody alive even saw my eye color. It's wonderful.

I walked into the gun shop, smiling as I saw the old man cleaning his rifles.

"Hello," I said, mimicking an English accent.

"Hello dear, what can I do for you?" he asked politely. I smiled.

"Well, my husband hasn't been around for a long time, and i've been in need of some money, he told me to sell his guns. He said they'd be worth something when he got back." I explained the lie to the old man while setting down four guns. He took a look at them, studding them carefully. "Oh, and if these would add value," I set the knives down too, he nodded.

"I'll give you a hundred for everything." His mustache rose as he smiled.

"Thank you sir," he handed me the money and I walked out. I put about 200 American dollars in an envelope along with a handwritten letter addressed to my brother. I put it in the post office mailbox and continued to walk home, not a thought in the world coming to me over what I had just done.

As I walked into my house, I poured a glass of whiskey mixed with a handful of sugar. Im from the fucking south, what do you expect? The whiskey helps me forget and the sugar tires make me drowsy. It's the easiest way to fall asleep.