Put Your Life In My Hands

"-and if I ever see your mangy face in here again, I swear I'll shoot!"

Bellamy, lying half in the street, grinned like an idiot as he stared at the sky. Things had been going so well before she recognized his outfit. That was okay, though, as the beginnings of a plan were coming to him.

"Bradbury! Man, what happened?"

"I got thrown out on my ass, Miller, what does it look like?"

"Shit, man. I'll go grab the bats."

"No! No, this is still too close to territory actual cops will actually come to. Give it time. She'll come around. And if not, I'll set whole store on fire."

Bellamy really, really hoped it wouldn't come to that.


The next time Bellamy wandered into Griffin Hardware, he had trimmed his hair back and shaved just enough to look scruffy on purpose. He also made sure not to wear the guild outfit.

The blonde still grabbed her rifle.

Bellamy closed in a second, one hand shoving the barrel towards the ceiling and the other thrown across her forearm to force her arm away and the stock down. She did try to keep a hold on the gun, which had the unfortunate side effect of trapping her arm beneath his as he braced it against his torso.

"Princess, I just need some screws to fix a drawer at my apartment."

"Yeah? Well you can go to hell."

She tugged pointlessly at her trapped arm and at the forestock.

"I would pull out my wallet to pay in advance, but I don't want to get shot."

"I don't want your dirty mob money."

"I can assure you, this cash is perfectly clean." She hesitated, so he continued. "Plus, and this is just a deal for you, but if you accept my organization's protections, I'll even throw in a date with me."

Shocked, her arms went limp. "What makes you think prostituting yourself will get me in bed with the mob?"

"Nothing." In a swift jerk and step back, he had the rifle free. With quick efficiency, he unloaded the gun, leaving the shells and the gun unable to fire on the ground pointed away from their feet. "Now that we're on even footing, can I please get some screws?"

She eyed the rifle, but helped him, grumbling the whole way.

On his way out, he paused. "I do try to keep the damages down."

"You're still lapdog to Pike and his gang. So go ply your platitudes somewhere else."


He showed up frequently, just enough to be a somewhat loveable pest, wincing inside each time she called him "Bradbury." He was unfailingly polite, just there to purchase some hardware and leave, maybe admire the paintings she had hung up.

She did have the best pricing within a walk of his place, and it kept less honorable members from coming in. She was unofficially under the protection of the guild, now, thanks to his patronage.

He'd probably get shot for that later.

It was worth it to protect Clarke Griffen, daughter of carpenter and part-time engineering genius Jake Griffen who had saved Bellamy's life (and most of the precinct's) at the expense of his own.

Bellamy was really lucky Clarke hadn't recognized him, or else this undercover operation would have been blown before its time.

In a year, at most, Bellamy would have what he needed to bring the full force of the law down on Pike.

Too bad he did get shot six months in.