Title: When The Cat's Away
Author: SunflowersAndHoney
Rating: T+ (for now)
Summary: She's a renowned, international car thief. He's an amateur cat burglar. And he just broke into the wrong home. AU.
A/N: A bottle of Lambrusco and this is what happens. Sorry-ish. May become a 6-part story like "If Your Girl Only Knew". I haven't decided yet.
She shut her front door, shoving the keys inside the pocket of her leather jacket. Quite pleased with her recent acquisitions, she smiled as she walked down the dark front hall and towards her kitchen. She knew the place like the back of her hand, and even in the dark, she could maneuver efficiently. She had to. Especially in her line of work.
She deserved the drink she poured for herself. It was a celebratory drink. Her last one of the night, or so she told herself. Her team had popped a bottle of champagne as they normally did after a successful lift.
Drinking from the dad liquid in her glass, she swallowed, allowing the cinnamon flavor to burn her throat on its way down. It raised the hair on her arms and the back of her neck, but she relished in it.
Out of the kitchen, she found her way into her small dining area that she had never used, sitting her tumbler on the glass table with a small clink!
Her hand touched the wall, and the other reached for the .45mm Heckler and Koch pistol tucked in the back waistband of her pants. Simultaneously, she pointed it at the unknown intruder and flicked on the lights.
Maybe it hadn't been the alcohol that raised her hairs after all.
"I don't keep money in the house and I don't call the police, so who are you?"
Sitting in the leather recliner, directly facing her, was a man. Muscled body, bald head, wearing all black. There was a slight smirk on his face.
"The more important question is how much will you pay me to keep quiet."
His voice was deep. Gravelly, even.
"I'll ask again." She replied, singlehandedly taking the safety off of the gun.
"So will I."
"I don't think you know who you're dealing with."
"I actually know exactly who you are. Letty Ortiz, a very wanted car thief."
"I don't know who you're talking about, but you have the wrong girl."
"Oh," he held up a finger and reached into his jacket pocket.
"Unh unh." In the blink of an eye, her left hand now held a twin .45. "Hands where I can see them at all times."
He removed his hand and she watched closely as he pulled out four small billfolds.
"So, who are you today? Are you," opening one, he tossed it on the coffee table, "Lorraine Owens or", he opened another and tossed that one on the table as well, "Lily O'Connor or," he opened the last two, "Lisa Oakes or Lena Oxford? All of these passports have your picture on them. I'm just wondering who I'm talking to now."
She smirked, dropping her left hand and putting one gun back into waistband. "Those were locked in a steel and titanium safe that needed my fingerprint for access."
"You'd be shocked how easy it is to lift a print off of any surface of this place." He gestured around the room carelessly.
"How could you be sure they weren't someone else's prints?"
He shrugged. "I took a gamble."
"Taking risks get you killed in life. Any pro would know that, but you didn't. So, I'll ask again. How could you be sure they weren't someone else's prints?"
He sat back in the chair and contemplated how much of the truth he wanted to tell her. "I've been watching you."
"What kind of watching? Following me everywhere with a camera and a huge lens, or peeking through my windows at night?"
He laughed then. Heartily, and at her expense. "Neither."
She sighed. "What do you want? I already told you I don't keep money in the house."
"Oh, I know." Again, he stared at her as he deliberation. She just knew he'd say some ridiculous number that would take her days to come up with. "I want in."
Or not.
"What?"
"I want in. Whatever your next job is, I want in."
"There is no next job."
"Bullshit." He stood from the chair and, cautiously, made his way towards her. She backed up slowly until her back was mere centimeters from the wall.
She really knew this place too well; perhaps it was time for a change of scenery. She'd had to move now that this prick was threatening to expose her to the world.
"I'll give you twenty-four hours to make a decision. A new team member, or a new wardrobe."
He'd come so close, that her gun was pressed directly against his chest. Her lids fluttered as his scent filled her nostrils. How dare he enter her personal space? Who was he? Whoever he was, he was bold, she'd give him that.
But she knew firsthand how hard it was to work with someone that cocky.
"Twenty-four hours, Letty Ortiz, international car thief." He repeated as he walked to her front hall. "My number's in the safe."
She watched as he disappeared. The sound of her front door opening and shutting followed. Leaning her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes and sighed.
"Fuck."
She put the safety back on her gun and walked back to the table to retrieve her tumbler of fireball whiskey. She trekked down the hallway to her bedroom and turned on her bedroom lights. Everything was just as she'd left it. If she hadn't seen him with her own two eyes, she would have never known he had been there.
She made her way to the closet and pushed aside the clothing there. Pressing her fingerprint against the scanner, she waited as the red light turned green. A tiny beep sounded and she used the handle to open it. Just by eyeing it, she could tell that he hadn't touched a single dollar bill of the one-hundred-thousand dollars. Some of it was in American currency, and some in foreign. But it was all there.
The only thing of value to him had been the passports. And the knowledge of who she truly was. Her real passport was gone.
No doubt he'd kept it as leverage. Sitting just in front of the stacks of money was a small piece of paper.
Dom, it read, 213-555-0098.