Getaway Car, an italian job fanfic

He was the best of times, the worst of crimes.

"What a twat."

Left Ear glanced up and watched Steve exit one of the many high end boutiques on Rodeo Drive. "He's just shopping," he commented on Handsome Rob's completely unjustified comment.

"How much do you want to bet he has a pair of Testoni shoes in that bag?" Rob asked, indicating to the shopping bag in Steve's hand. They watched as he unlocked his car and climbed in. Rob turned over their own car, the engine rumbling to life before he shifted the car into gear.

Left Ear brought the binoculars up to his eyes and leaned forward. "The twat," he echoed, and Rob grinned.

They had been tracking Steve for two days now, keeping tabs on any patterns, the usual places he visited, timing how long he was away from his house, looking for any window of opportunity they could use to make their move. So far he did what every other millionaire bachelor did; spent more money than he could keep track of, and hit on any woman who didn't recoil at the sight of his slimy mustache.

"Where are you off to now?" Rob muttered to himself as they followed Steve off Rodeo Drive and farther away from the glam face of Los Angeles. They kept a few cars between them to buffer. While Rob drove, Left was scribbling notes down to give to Charlie when they rendezvoused at the hotel later.

Rob turned after Steve onto a street of seedy bars and run-down gas stations. They were no longer in Steve's usual playground. Left glanced out the window, his gaze locked on a group of homeless people camped out on the corner of an alley.

"This is new," he commented, "I thought Steve would be too pretentious to be caught out in a place like this."

"He is," Rob replied.

"So what business does he have here?"

Rob shrugged in reply. Traffic was less congested, and they had to fall even further behind so as not to draw attention to themselves. Steve disappeared down another street and a few minutes later, Rob and Left turned after him, just in time to see the Aston Martin park in a rundown two story motel parking lot. Rob pulled over to the curb and parked the car.

"He's not exactly laying low here..." Left said, trying, like Rob, to figure out what a man like Steve was doing in an area like this. The place was faded pink with rusted white iron steps and green doors missing the bronze numbers.

Rob sighed, leaned back in his seat, and rubbed his hand across the stubble on his jaw. They watched Steve climb out, cross the lot and pull out a key. He unlocked one of the bottom motel rooms and disappeared inside. Left craned is head, trying to see into the room, but they were too far away, and any chance of seeing something through the window was thwarted by the heavy curtains drawn closed.

Rob and Left got comfortable, dropping the seats back and waiting until Steve came out. Left wrote down the time and name of the motel; The Night Hop. It flashed in neon letters, and the image of a green cricket underneath moved its legs with each flicker of the lights. Garbage littered the lot and the air was heavy with stale cigarettes. It was a far cry from Steve's Armani suits and bottles of Boerl & Kroff. After about twenty minutes, Left spoke up.

"What do you think he's doing in there? Think he's mixed up in some bad business?"

"I don't know, wouldn't put it past him."

There was a knock at the car window and Rob looked over. A large man stood on the other side of the glass, glowering at him. 'Khan' was tattooed on his left temple. He was tall and well-muscled between a layer of fat and thick bones. Rob was in good shape, he could hold his own against a number of men, but the stranger standing outside his car looked like he could break Rob's arm with one hit of his meaty hand. Rob cracked the window a few inches and the man leaned over.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice conversational and strangely cordial.

"Just waiting on a friend," Rob said. "We'll be off in a few minutes."

Khan nodded, slowly, pursing his lips. "Wait somewhere else," he said, his tone was still easy, but had taken on a commanding edge.

Rob's grip tightened over the steering wheel. He glared at the massive man, but he leveled Rob with a sharp gaze of his own. Not taking his eyes off Khan, Rob shifted the car into gear and peeled away from the curb with a squeal of tires. He knew when to not push his luck.

Left twisted around to watch the man out the back window. He let out the breath he had been holding, looking at Rob.

"Ah…did you see that man?" he breathed, "His arms were the size of tree trunks!"

"I saw," Rob muttered. He looped around the block a few times, pulling back up to the same spot a few minutes later when he saw it was clear. Steve's car was still in the parking lot; they hadn't missed him.

"I don't think we should be here..." Left said, "The Walking Tree made it evident we weren't welcome."

"We can't lose Steve," Rob replied, "Besides, I want to see what he's up to."

Rob had an uneasy feeling, the answer of Steve's secrecy on the tip of his tongue. A nasty hunch in the pit of his stomach. He knew what places like this offered. He wanted to see if he was right, but also hoped that he wasn't.

The door to the motel room opened and Steve strode purposefully to his car. He adjusted the belt on his pants, got in his car and pulled away from The Night Hop. Rob yanked his door open as soon as Steve's Aston Martin rounded the corner. Left leaned across the seat.

"What happened to not losing Steve?"

"Keep the car running," Rob said and Left moved into the driver's seat. Rob glanced around, looking for any sign of Khan as he made his way to Steve's motel room. He tried the handle, but it was locked. He took a step back and kicked the door, the cheap deadbolt buckling under his weight. The door flew open and cracked against the opposite wall. Light flooded the dark room.

A young woman stood by the bathroom door, bent over to retrieve a pair of pants off the floor. She froze when she saw him.

Rob had a few seconds to glance around the motel room. Wall paper peeled at the baseboards and the sheets were twisted on top of the mattress. A champagne bottle sat on the bedside table, half empty. The room smelled of sweat.

"Steve, you sick bastard," Rob muttered, turning to the woman. She was dressed in only a tank top and a tattered pair of underpants. The start of a bruise colored one cheek. She looked like she wanted to scream but was poised like a deer in headlights.

Rob opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, something crashed into him from behind and he flew forward onto the stained carpet. A dense body landed on top of him, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He twisted, fists raised to defend himself, but Khan, the massive brute, was already on his feet again. He lifted a booted foot and kicked Rob in the ribs. He gasped and rolled away, scrambling to his feet. Khan lunged at him again, but this time Rob was ready. His knuckles crushed against Khan's nose and jaw, sending his head snapping back with the force of each punch. The two collided in a tangle of fists and elbows and knees and they went careening into the wall. Khan rammed Rob's face into the plaster and he felt blood gush from his nose. He backhanded Khan, twisting around to try and get the upper ground again, but Khan was fast for how large he was. He wrapped a hand around Rob's wrist, his other arm snaking around his neck in a choke hold. He squeezed, flexing his large muscles and slowly applying pressure to Rob's windpipe. He gasped, reaching his hands around blindly to try and catch the man's eyes.

Behind them, the young woman managed to swallow her shock. She grabbed the champagne bottle off the night stand, a gift from Steve, and raised it. She swung hard as she could, smashing the bottle over Khan's head. The glass shattered, tinkling as it felt over his shoulders and onto the floor. His grip loosened, and Rob wormed his way free, sucking in large breaths of air.

"Come on!" he said, taking hold of her hand and running. She dropped the bottle and tip toed bare footed over the glass as he dragged her out of the motel and across the lot towards their parked car.

Left Ear sat in the driver's seat, drumming the wheel. "Hurry up!" he called and Rob glanced over his shoulder to see Khan stumble out of the motel after them like a bull after the matador.

"Drive, drive, drive!" Rob shouted, shoving the girl towards the back seat. She yanked open her door and climbed in while Rob rounded the car. He threw himself into the passenger seat and Left tore away from the curb as Khan closed in on them. The passenger door swung shut from the force of rounding the corner sharply, the three of them heading for the hotel.

"What have you done!" Left was shouting, "What the hell have you done!"

Rob ignored him and pulled out his phone to dial Charlie. Their team leader was staked out at Steve's house with Lyle, checking out the home security.

"Meet us back at the hotel," Rob said, before Charlie could even say 'hello'. "We've a bit of a problem."

"A major problem!" Left chimed in while he drove.

"What problem? Are you still on Steve?"

"Just meet us at the hotel," Rob growled and hung up the phone.

He glanced out the back to make sure they weren't being followed. His eyes drifted to the girl when he was certain they didn't have a tail. She sat quietly, but wide eyed and attentive, her chest heaving slightly. She looked back at him, and Rob turned forward. "God you drive slow." He pulled off his suit jacket and tossed it into the back seat. Barely clothed, the girl pulled the jacket on to cover herself.

Left looked at him incredulously. "It's rush hour!"

I struck a match, and blew your mind.

They made it through the lobby with only a few shrewd looks from the front desk clerk. Between the half-dressed woman and the man with a bleeding nose and the one wearing a hearing aid, they made quite a spectacle of themselves. In the elevator, Rob pressed the button for their floor. Soft jazz filled the silence. The girl stood behind them, clutching his jacket around her. He wasn't sure how she was fairing. She hadn't said a word to them.

The adrenaline was finally subsiding in him and Rob could feel a sharp pain in his side where the Walking Tree had kicked him. His nose kept trickling blood, which he wiped away with the sleeve of his shirt. The elevator doors dinged open and Left lead the way down the hall to Stella's room. He knocked, and Stella opened the door. The three of them filed in, and Stella's gaze lingered on the unknown woman accompanying them.

"Here," Rob said, indicating to the bed, "Have a seat."

The girl did so, and Rob turned to Stella. "I'll explain everything when Charlie and Lyle get here. Do you have extra clothes?"

"Uh...yeah. Sure," Stella said, shoving away a partially dismantled safe to fumble through her suitcase. She pulled out a navy blue sweater and a pair of grey track pants. "Sorry," she said handing the clothes over. "I'm tall, so they might be long on you. You can change in the bathroom."

The girl got up, clothes tucked under her arm, and went into the bathroom, closing the door after her.

Charlie walked into the hotel room a few seconds later with Lyle trailing him.

"What happened?" Charlie asked immediately.

Rob launched into the story of following Steve into the sketchier parts of town, the motel, the pimp, the fight, and bringing the girl back to the hotel. Stella retrieved a towel from the closet, handing it to Rob so he could clean himself up.

"What were you thinking?" Charlie hissed when he had finished.

"I was thinking that Steve is a pisser excuse for a man and that girl needed help. I wasn't thinking! But I wasn't going to leave her there!"

"Of all the times to become an advocate for human trafficking, you choose now?" Charlie practically shouted.

"She needed help!"

"She puts the mission in jeopardy!"

"Enough! Both of you!" Stella snapped over them, turning to Charlie. "Handsome has a point."

Charlie sighed, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "You didn't stop to think what happens next time Steve goes back to the motel and his prostitute isn't there—?"

"Watch it," Rob growled, taking a menacing step forward.

Charlie quickly lifted his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying," he continued, "Steve will be looking for that girl and so will her pimp and probably a number of other people. We can't take her to the police or to the hospital because we don't have an alibi for finding her. The second someone finds out about her, our cover will be blown."

"So we keep her with us," Rob said with a shrug, "Just until the mission is over."

"We can't carry dead weight," Charlie said. "There's no room for a side job here."

"I'll watch her. She won't be any trouble."

Charlie sighed again, glancing around the group. Lyle and Left both looked too stunned to say anything, Rob's face was set with a determined frown, blood drying on his upper lip. Stella looked concerned as she chewed her lip. They didn't have room for mistakes, but they also couldn't turn the girl in.

"Fine," Charlie finally replied. "She'll stick close to us until we have Steve's money. Once we're thousands of miles away in Fiji or Croatia we'll let her go. Then, and only then. We can't risk her turning us in before we lift the gold. Where is she now?"

"In the bathroom."

Charlie's face fell, and Rob realized his mistake. It shouldn't have taken the girl that long to change. The two of them ran to the bathroom, throwing open the door. The rest of the team followed, confused.

"Empty," Charlie said. Her soiled clothes were heaped on the floor and the window to the bathroom was opened. Charlie went to it and looked out.

Rob pushed past Stella and went through the main room, out onto the balcony. Crouched on the decorative ledge of the hotel, dressed in Stella's clothes, was the girl. She clutched to the stone, her knuckles white. She looked up as Charlie called out to her.

"Oi!" Rob snapped, and her head whipped around to look at him. He reached out his hand to her. "Give me your hand!"

She shook her head vehemently. She pressed herself against the building, inching closer towards Charlie.

"Leave me alone!" They were the first words Rob heard her say. Her voice sounded exhausted. "Just let me go!"

"Hey, hey," Charlie cooed, "Listen, we're not going to hurt you. We're going to help you, but we need you to cooperate with us, okay? Just...come back in and we can talk."

Charlie stuck his hand out the window and she flinched back, closer towards Rob. She scooted her bare feet across the narrow ledge, barley wide enough to hold her. She looked over at Rob suspiciously, who still had his arm extended to her. The wind picked up, tossing her light brown air around.

"Handsome?" Rob looked over his shoulder at Stella. "Let me try," she said and when he didn't move, she continued, her voice quiet. "She's scared, obviously. Think about where you found her. She doesn't have any reason to trust men. Maybe I can talk her off the ledge."

Rob nodded slowly, retreating his hand and letting Stella onto the balcony. She smiled at the prostitute.

"I'm Stella, by the way," she said gently. On the other side, Charlie watched carefully. "What's your name?"

The girl didn't reply, she only shook her head.

"You don't have to tell me," Stella said. "Where are you from?"

She muttered a reply.

"Colorado? You're far from home, aren't you? I was in Boulder last year for a job actually. Nice area, but I don't think I could ever live there, you know? Too...spread out."

She still didn't say anything, her gaze locked on the street stories below. Her ankles wobbled from the strain of trying to keep herself tethered to the ledge.

"Listen," Stella said, her eyes flicking to her precarious perch. "I know we're strangers but we're trying to help you and we're really the only chance you have of getting back to Boulder. We can get you a car, money, whatever you need. Lyle here—" Stella indicated to their tech, who waved from behind Charlie, leaning out the window the watch, "—can get you a bus or plane ticket to where you need. Come off the ledge. You've got nowhere else to go."

The girl glared at Stella, but she had no other choice, so she slowly inched her way forward.

"That's it," Stella sing-songed, holding out her hand. She girl stood on shaking legs, then reached out and grabbed Stella's hand. "Good," Stella continued, "Now put your foot over on this ledge and climb over the balcony railing."

She hesitated. It was a far distance for how high they were; the space between the ledge and the edge of the balcony. Rob moved closer to the two. She hopped across the gap catching herself on the lip, one hand going to the railing, the other holding onto Stella. Rob reached out to her and she wrapped her arm around his neck and they pulled her over the rail to safety. Her hands trembled from clutching the stone so tight, and Rob lowered her down until she sat on the balcony, her back against the rail. She took a deep breath, the danger of her hasty escape seeming to finally catch up with her.

Lyle, Left and Charlie joined them on the balcony from the bathroom.

Rob straightened, hands on his hips. "What the hell were you thinking?" he snapped. "You could have fallen. You could have pulled Stella over as well!"

She didn't say anything, and Rob looked to Charlie.

"Your responsibility," Charlie said bluntly.

But I didn't meant it, and you didn't see it.

Rob flipped through the channels on the TV in his own hotel room. He wasn't paying the screen much attention, too distracted with the sound of water running in his bathroom. He had insisted that she take a shower; she had had the remnants of Steve on her still. He wasn't very pleased with himself, acting so irrational and now stuck to the responsibility of keeping the girl under his watch, but when he saw her in the dingy motel room something in him boiled to life. Something rageful and disgusted and he knew he had to make it right.

He had a reputation with women, his friends called him Handsome Rob for Christ sake, but he also wasn't a monster. There was a fine line between sexist and predatory, and he was careful not to cross it. Millions of dollars and Steve still stooped to the lowest of lows. It should have come as no surprise, he tried to kill his friends in cold blood after all. Even so, Rob was sick with the thought.

He looked to the bathroom, and was surprised to find her standing in the doorway, still in Stella's clothes, but this time with damp hair. Rob sat up a little, indicating to the silver tray sitting on the bed.

"I thought you might be hungry. I wasn't sure what you liked, so I just had them bring up some fruit and oatmeal."

She nodded and moved closer to the bed. She seemed unsure, and Rob figured he should give her space, maybe move to the chair in the corner or something, but he was comfortable and also a bit of an asshole sometimes. So he stayed where he was. Eventually she climbed onto the bed and began eating. Rob glanced at the TV again, switching to sports.

"Are you going to tell me your name now?" he asked after a few quiet minutes. She shook her head no, mouth full. He was right, she had been hungry. "If I guess it, will you tell me?"

She considered this for a moment then nodded. He looked her over; tawny colored hair, soft hazel eyes, short, skinny, a few freckles, some scars on her arms and hands. The bruise on her cheek had turned purple and yellow. She had a tattoo on the inside of her arm, small discreet lettering. Rob tilted his head to read it.

Khan.

Like a property stamp.

She caught him looking, and she yanked the sleeve of Stella's shirt down.

Rob pursed his lips.

"Maddie?" he guessed. She looked like a Maddie.

She crinkled her nose. "No."

Rob chuckled. "Don't like that name? Well then…how about Darcy?"

She shook her head no.

"Something old fashioned maybe. Rosie? Caroline?"

"No, no."

"Bridget?"

She shook her head again and Rob had lost interest in their game. "What should I call you then if you won't tell me your name?" he asked, and she shrugged. He sighed, annoyed, and thought for a moment. "Cricket? Can I call you Cricket?"

She flinched at the name, but seemed to recover. Slowly, she nodded her head. Rob gave her a ghost of a smile.

"Brilliant. Cricket it is."

She finished, and he took the tray, setting it outside in the hallway for one of the maids.

"Here's the deal, Cricket," Rob said as he came back in. "We'll get you to where ever you want to go, whether that be Colorado, the police, Canada, whatever, but you have to lay low with us for a few days first, understand?" he said. He went to the bed and grabbed a pair of pillows off of it, dropping them onto the floor. "Your boy Steve owes us quite a bit of money and we're going to take it. We can't have you getting in the way and messing it up for us, now can we?" He went to the closet, pulled down the extra blanket on the top shelf. He dropped that next to the pillows. "So, you're going to stick with me, not cause any trouble, and do as I say. Why? Because I saved your life. And just as quickly as I pulled you from the snake pit, I can just as quickly drop you back in. Are we clear?"

It was an empty threat, of course. He'd never hand her back to her pimp for two reasons; one being he couldn't live with himself if he did, and two, he couldn't live with himself if Khan smashed his brains in next time they met.

"You know he'll come looking for me," Cricket said. "Steve was my best customer and you saw what Khan can do. He has a temper, and a lot of bad friends in bad places."

"Yes, well, I've got a temper too," Rob muttered, glancing at her. She sat on top of the covers, watching him lay down a make shift bed. Her hands fumbled with the hem of her shirt worriedly. Rob sighed and indicated to her cheek. "Did Khan do that to you? Or Steve?"

Her fingers went to the bruise. "Does it matter?" she asked quietly.

Rob went to the edge of the bed. "Listen, we can help each other out here," he said, his voice low. She swallowed thickly. "You stay with me, don't turn us in, and I'll make sure those men never touch you again."

She met his gaze and nodded, but Rob could see a flicker of disbelief in her eyes.

"You can have the bed," he sighed, "I'll take the floor."

He went to the light switch and flicked them off. It was late, and it had been an eventful day. He was exhausted. He settled himself down as best he could on the floor and listened for Cricket. He wasn't totally convinced she wouldn't try and escape in the middle of the night and go to the police; so he waited for her to fall asleep first. Eventually he heard her slide under the covers, toss a bit before settling down. Her breathing grew even and calm but, despite being completely drained, Rob still found it hard to fall asleep. It wasn't until the clock glowed 2:00 AM that he was certain she wouldn't bail in the middle of the night, and he was finally able to settle into a fitful sleep.

I wanted to leave him, I needed a reason.

"We have an in," Charlie said the next morning at breakfast. They all gathered in his hotel room, picking over the continental breakfast that the waiter wheeled in an hour ago. Rob noticed Cricket didn't eat much, just sipped on the coffee Stella poured and handed to her. She sat on the couch while they all talked around the table, looking inconspicuous, but listening intently. "We'll cut his cable and wireless and bring in a repairman. Lyle can set us up with a mini cam to get the layout of the house."

"That's great and all but who are we going to send in?" Rob asked, knowing none of them were good enough with disguises to fool Steve. Of their many talents, prosthetics was not one.

Charlie jabbed a thumb at Stella, who raised her hand.

Rob chuckled. "No," he said, leaning back in his chair, "No, no, no. She can't do it."

"Excuse me?" Stella asked, right as Charlie said, "She can."

Rob thumped Left. "Back me up here."

Left shrugged. "I am actually on board with it. I think Stella can manage and Steve has no idea who she is."

"Thank you," Stella said. "Lyle can teach me some jargon before I go in so I sound like I know what I'm doing, right Lyle?"

They all looked at the tech wizard and he hesitated.

"Actually, I'm with Handsome Rob on this one," he said and Stella sighed in frustration. "I mean, of course I'll prep you, but one slip up could arise suspicion. It's a little risky."

"Would you rather send in the sex worker?" Charlie asked with a wave of his hand in Crickets direction, then hastily added. "No offence."

"Some taken."

Rob frowned, grabbed his jacket from off the table and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Charlie asked.

"We'll have to get a uniform and a company van to make it legitimate, won't we?" Rob snapped. They could sit at the table arguing all day about who should be the one to collect video feed of Steve's house, but in the end Charlie would still push for it to be Stella. There was no sense in wasting his breath. "Napster, get your gear. Cricket let's go."

Lyle pumped a fist, hissing out a happy, "Yes!"

Cricket got up from the couch and she and Lyle followed Rob out of Charlie's hotel room, Lyle casting a glance over his shoulder at the rest of the team. Charlie looked annoyed, Left and Stella seemed confused. They stopped by Lyle's room so he could collect his gear, and get a pair of shoes for Cricket. He had the smallest feet of anyone in the group, and his shoes would be the closest fit for her.

With a black duffel full of cameras, computers and mics, and a pair of sneakers he handed off to Cricket, Lyle lead the way down into the lobby and through the parking garage to the car. Rob glanced over his shoulder at Cricket, who had fallen behind them a few steps. He lingered back with her, noticing the way she fiddled.

"Something the matter?" he asked.

She looked up at him, a little stone faced. "I know I'm being paranoid, but I'm not sure if this is a good idea."

"If what's a good idea?"

She gave him an annoyed look and Rob brushed it off with dismissive wave of his hand. "I told you, you're safe with us."

"You're oddly optimistic about all this," she murmured, "I'm not sure you really know what you're getting yourself into."

"Love, I'm about to steal millions in gold bars from a backstabbing traitor. I spent eighteen months in federal prison for breaking probation and leading a host of officers on a cross country high speed chase, because I was bored on a Wednesday afternoon. I don't exactly pray among the saints if you catch my drift."

"Will you two hurry up?" Lyle called as he finished loading his gear into the car. He closed the trunk and went to the passenger side and climbed in.

Rob opened the backseat door for her. "I may not make completely rational decisions, but I am a man of my word," he said while she slid into the car. She didn't say anything back, but there was that look again. That look of dubiety. "Besides," he added, "We're just shadowing today. You won't even have to get out of the car." He shut the door after her and went around to the driver's side. They pulled out onto the street, maneuvering through the thick traffic of downtown Los Angeles. Cricket sat quietly, Lyle wouldn't shut up, and Rob moodily considered the number of bad choices he had made within the last few weeks, least of all being agreeing to ruin Steve's life. He hadn't been exaggerating when he told her he ran with a rough crowd. Perhaps it was time for a career change. He was thirty, after all.

"What's the name of the cable company again?" Rob asked, trying to distract himself from thoughts of how dishonest yet strangely satisfying his life had turned out.

Lyle checked his notes. "Netcom Cable. Any idea where their headquarters are at?" he directed to Cricket in the backseat.

"Actually, yes," she said, "Their main office is off Sepulveda Boulevard."

"How do you know that?"

"Khan splits his operations between the motel and a warehouse on that same boulevard. I pass that office building on an almost nightly basis."

"Oh," Lyle said. Rob glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw a smirk flicker across Cricket's face, amused by Lyle's sudden discomfort at her morally ambiguous past. Ironic, that Lyle didn't bat an eye at hacking online bank accounts, but sexual exploits crossed the line. Then again, he was always uncomfortable with anything that had to do women.

She caught his gaze in the mirror and her features turned grim. There was a sudden challenge in her eyes. A challenge for Rob to keep his promise. They would be in Khan's territory; the perfect opportunity for him to take Cricket back and beat Rob to a pulp. He wasn't worried though; it's not like they were going to parade down the boulevard. Just linger long enough to gather information and then they would be gone before Khan ever knew his missing girl was only a few blocks away.

They pulled into the parking garage of Netcom's main office twenty minutes later. Lyle set up his camera and they waited, watching workers in blue uniforms come and go in white vans. After a few minutes, they got a target.

"Becky. Nice name. I wonder what she calls the other one," Lyle said, snapping some pictures.

Cricket leaned forward to get a better look are the girl, Lyle and Rob talking around her. Rob grabbed his jacket off the dashboard and opened the car door.

"Where are you going?" Lyle and Cricket asked together.

"To get the work shirt and service truck," Rob said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Whoa, wait," Lyle said, nodding to Cricket, "What about her?"

"What about her?"

"I'm not going to babysit your advocacy project while you go get laid!"

"She won't be any trouble," Rob said, eyes flickering to Cricket, "Will you?" She shook her head no. "See? Just keep out of sight and you'll be fine. I'll meet you two back at the hotel tomorrow morning. Don't wait up." He winked and closed the door, sliding on his jacket and striding over to the service girl named Becky.

"I don't believe this," Lyle said, bewildered and annoyed. He zoomed the camera in closer and took on frighteningly accurate impressions of Rob and Becky. "...Perfect, would you like my virginity as well?" he said in falsetto, and answered in an uncanny likeness to Rob's deep English accent, "If it's on the menu."

He continued until Rob and Becky exited the garage. He sighed, turning to Cricket. "And that's why they call him Handsome Rob," he said, his voice returning to normal. She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself and climbed into the front seat of the car now that Rob was no longer occupying it. Lyle began packing up his things.

"So...Cricket's not your real name," he said.

"No."

"What is?"

She looked at him and gave a harsh chuckle, dripping with sarcasm. "I don't think so," she said, "The last time I gave a strange man my name I was tossed into the trunk of a car and driven across state lines."

The laugh in Lyle's throat quickly died when he realized she wasn't joking. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, I just...wow." He cleared his throat again and a few seconds of silence passed between them. It wasn't long before Lyle talked again though, silences never lasted long with him. "If you don't mind me asking, why did you agree to go along with this? I mean, you're essentially an accomplice to larceny. You could get in serious trouble."

"I was already in serious trouble when Rob found me," she sighed, "And anyways, Stella was right. Sticking with you guys is my best bet to getting back home."

"What if we don't keep up our end of the bargain? We are criminals after all."

She looked at him, studying his face. "I suppose that's a chance I'm willing to take. That, or I can go to the police."

Lyle laughed. "The police are nothing but a monkey act in uniforms," he said, obviously not fazed by her threat. He grabbed his stuff and tossed it into the back, then climbed out and walked around to the driver's side, pulling open the door and indicating for Cricket to get out. "I'll drive."

They switched seats and Cricket buckled her belt, sighing. "Anything was better than what I was doing before," she said, so quietly Lyle struggled to hear her. "Anything is better than Khan."

Lyle sighed, running his hands over the steering wheel. He looked at her, forcing a smile, trying to lift the dark mood in the car. "Let's get out of here," he said, putting the car in gear. "We can get you some decent clothes that actually fit."

He poisoned the well.

Cricket sat across the table from Rob in his hotel room. She watched while he cut a copy of Becky's truck keys into a blank key with slow precision.

"Where did you learn how to do this?" she asked.

"I've been interested in cars since I was a boy," Rob muttered, concentrating on the cutting. "Anything with a steering wheel and engine actually, but mostly cars. I had a massive Hot Wheels collection; loads of limited editions. I started hanging around the garages when I was eight, learning to rebuild engines, one eighty park, hotwire, cut keys, so on. Eventually I sold all those limited editions and bought my first car, fixed it up, and have been driving ever since. I guess I just love every aspect and detail about them, down to the stitching of the leather or…" He popped the half-finished key out of its clasp and held it up for Cricket to see. "The teeth on the keys."

He smiled and indicated to the saw. "This, I built myself. Doesn't quite finesse the depths and spaces like professional code cutters, but it gets the job done. The saw here," He pointed, "…is driven by this rubber bit. The motor I took off an old sewing machine."

He finished sawing down the rest of the key as he continued. "Eight year old me always wanted to be a race car driver. I guess if I wasn't busy stealing gold and saving Charlie's arse, that's what I would be doing instead…" He let the sentence trail off, realizing he had been rambling. He could talk mechanics for hours, but he was well aware that other people didn't share his passion for cars. He glanced at Cricket. She didn't seem to mind, but Rob had embarrassed himself enough as it was. He didn't elaborate further.

After a while, Cricket spoke.

"I wanted to be an architect," she said. "That's what I wanted to go to college for. I always found the design of buildings very fascinating. If I could, I would travel to Italy or France just to sketch all that beautiful Baroque styled architecture."

"I've been to Italy, it's beautiful there."

Rob glanced up at her and smiled. She smiled back—open and relaxed, not like the usual stoic and guarded features she kept carefully placed on the surface. He felt at ease too, like he was no longer walking on egg shells around her. Her eyes flickered over his face, and her smile slowly dropped, seeming to sense the change between them. She leaned back in her chair, away from Rob, and there was that blank face again, quietly slipping over her vulnerable self.

"Well, maybe someday," she said passively.

Rob nodded. Constantly hiding behind his own mask of sarcasm and subtle malice, he could understand Cricket's reason for keeping people at a distance. That one look into her personal self—however brief—was enough for him.

He blew the dust off the key and looped it onto a key ring for Stella, then began dismantling the cutter and putting it away.

"I'm curious," he said after a moment, "What happened between design school and…" He indicated to the whole of her as an explanation.

"And selling myself?" she asked and he nodded. She sighed. "A few stupid mistakes, some desperation and enough fear to keep me under Khan's thumb."

"I just don't see how a girl like you ends up in nasty business like this."

She scoffed at him. "Wait—a girl like me? Nasty business like this? Those are large assumptions coming from a glorified gateway driver."

"So, enlighten me." He shoved his tool bag into the closet, then joined her back at the table. She regarded him coolly.

"Why do I get the feeling you just want to know about Steve?" she asked and he shrugged his reply. He wouldn't deny it. She narrowed her gaze at him but he kept his features placid. "Well you'll be disappointed to know that I actually liked Steve. Very much. He was one of the few that didn't treat me like…like complete trash. He always paid well and sometimes he would bring me things; diamond earrings, lingerie, flowers…" Her gaze drifted to the table top, staring at a dent in the wood. "Afterwards we'd lay there and just…talk. He wanted to know about Colorado and my family. He'd tell me stories of places he'd travel to. I think he was lonely. It was a little sad…"

She looked up at Rob, gauging his reaction. A few sympathetic words weren't going to change his mind about Steve. He crossed his arms over his chest. "So some expensive gifts justifies getting the shit beat out of you?" he asked, indicating to the bruise on her cheek.

She frowned, her eyes blazing fiercely. "You're blinded by your own personal grudge. This was Khan's handywork. I told you he had a temper."

"Nasty business then; I rest my case."

"You—you have no idea what it's like," she spat, standing up. "And stop pretending like you're so much better than I am. We aren't that different, but at least I know that I'm bottom rung. Y-you act like, like thieving and philandering is some short of game and some how you're winning? But you're not. You're a loser. You're a loser like Steve and Khan and me."

He stood up too, fast enough to knock the back of the chair against the wall. She shied back against the wall, spooked, but trying not to show it. He stood there a moment, breathing heavily, mind reeling, but no words coming out of his mouth despite wanting desperately to tell her off.

"You think you're so heroic; that you saved the poor prostitute from a life a misery," Cricket said, her voice low. "But you didn't. You pulled me from the snake pit and dropped me in the rat's nest. Well…well done."

He glared at her, then crossed the room in two strides and yanked open the door, being sure to slam it behind him. He marched down the hall to the elevator, pressing—or rather, punching—the button for the ground floor. He didn't care anymore. He didn't care if she ran from the hotel and got picked up by her pimp, or the police. He didn't care if she ran to Steve and told him everything they had been planning. She was no longer his problem.

He took a seat at the hotel bar, wondering how the night had taken such a drastic turn. He sighed, ordered an Old Fashioned, and tried to not let her words get to him.

And yet, he couldn't stop hearing her call him a loser.

Maye her words bothered him so much because there was some truth buried in them. He never took anything seriously. He'd been sent to prison three times in his life and treated each of them like a vacation from the rest of the world. He slept with countless women and forgot their names the next morning because he didn't care. The only reason he remembered Becky's was because it was stitched on her shirt. His closest friends were criminals who operated on the notion that they were somehow a cut above the people they stole from but, as Cricket so eloquently pointed out, that moral superiority didn't exist in their line of work.

Rob sighed again, finishing his drink and ordering another one. After an hour or so of lingering at the bar, untangling his thoughts and mulling over their fight, he reluctantly made his way back to his hotel room. He paused outside the door, dreading the fact that he would open it, find the room empty, and then have to go explain to Charlie that he scared away the one thing he was supposed to keep close.

He opened the door to find the lights off. He could make out Cricket's form, sleeping on top of the bed covers. Feeling relieved and regretful and run down, he sighed and sunk down on to his pile of blankets on the floor, not bothering to change out of his slacks and button down.

I knew from the first Old Fashioned we were cursed.

There was a reason people slept on beds and not the ground; floors were unbelievably uncomfortable, and the one in his hotel room was no exception. Rob was up early, and, unable to get back to sleep, he changed and walked down the hall to Charlie's room.

"There's a park across the street with a court."

"Give me a few minutes."

Charlie closed the door on him, but a moment later, reopened it wearing a pair of sweats. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and they both headed for the elevator. Outside the hotel, dawn was breaking in a haze of grey and blue morning light. Charlie and Rob crossed the empty play ground to the basketball court, Charlie bending down to retrieve a ball and toss it to Rob.

"You know I went back to London after the Italian job." Rob panted, twenty minutes after they started their pickup game. Despite the cool morning, a sheen of sweat had formed on his brow.

"Yeah," Charlie said.

"I went to visit my mum."

"How's she doing?" Charlie said, toeing the free throw line. He shot, and the ball arched through the air and bounced off the rim.

"Good; the home is good for her," Rob said, catching the ball and sending it back to Charlie for another try. "But I couldn't stop thinking about that day in the Alps. I was so stupid, if I had just kept driving, even if I had sent us into the water two minutes sooner, then maybe we would still have the gold. Maybe John would still be alive. I froze when Steve had that gun aimed at me and I'm sorry, Charlie."

"We were all in shock Rob, no one knew what to do."

"Stella is the one I should be apologizing too," Rob murmured.

"Knock it off, will you?" Charlie said, passing Rob the ball a little forcefully. "We were all there that day, we all could've done something different, but we didn't. We're here now so there's no use kicking ourselves over what might have been."

Rob ran his hands around the basketball. "You're right, I know, but I wanted you know that I'm sorry. You and John were closer than any of the rest of us."

Rob bounced the ball back to Charlie, who attempted another free throw. The ball sunk through the net effortlessly. Charlie sighed.

"Before we left, John advised me to retire," Charlie said and gave a half-hearted chuckle, "He said I should find something and hold onto it. He would roll over in his grave if he could see what we were doing now."

"His dying wish but you still have to do it your way, don't you? Christ, you're a stubborn wanker," Rob teased, grinning. Charlie smiled, feinted around him and ran the ball up court for a layup. Rob shook his head. "Some people were made for the picket fence life, just not us."

There was something appealing about John's notion of retirement. A steady income from a corporate job, a family and a home to return to every night, a wife to kiss good morning, but Rob wasn't that type of man. Stability had never been part of his vocabulary. It was a nice idea but didn't bode well for reality.

They passed the ball back and forth a few more times, each taking a turn shooting and playing defense. The sun finally peaked over the horizon and burned off the cool morning air, and the two decided it was time to head back to the hotel. Today was pivotal for them; Stella would be entering Steve's house for the video blueprint.

"How's Cricket doing?" Charlie asked as they walked back to their rooms.

"Fine."

"Really? Because you two were going at it last night," Charlie said and Rob flinched. "Are you sure everything is okay?"

"Of course it is," Rob said gruffly, "What's your problem with her anyways?"

"No problem," Charlie said lightly as they entered the elevator and he pushed the button for their floor. "I just don't trust her. She's the closest thing Steve has to a friend, and I can't believe she hasn't run off to him yet. She agreed to come with us pretty willingly…a little too willingly."

"She tried to escape out an eighth story bathroom window," Rob reminded him.

Charlie shrugged. "Just keep your eye on her. I'll sleep better once all this is over."

Rob entered his hotel room. The bed was empty but he could hear Cricket in the bathroom. He flipped on the little complimentary coffee maker on the table and brewed two cups. He offered her a steaming mug when she came out.

"A peace offering," he said and she took the coffee from him. "And an apology. I shouldn't have made assumptions, I'm sorry."

She looked at him then took a sip and sighed. "No, it's fine. I got carried away and said some things I shouldn't have. It's been a lot to take in the last few days, and I don't really know any of you, and I know you all hate Steve but I know a different side of him, so it's hard to understand why you're doing this," she said, sinking down onto the bed. He sat down next to her and she sighed again, looking at him. "I didn't mean what I said, last night. You could have left me in that motel room, but you didn't. I've been searching for every reason to leave Khan, but finding every excuse not to, and then you show up and whisk me away from all of it—literally. So…thank you."

Rob smiled. It was the most he had heard her speak since they met. He lifted his mug, and she tapped hers against his. "You're welcome," he said, and took a sip. "Last night, I thought you would leave."

"I almost did," she said, hands curled around her cup, "But, we had a deal. Besides, it's a swanky hotel room and I like the free mini bar."

Rob smirked, nodded. They finished their coffee in silence.

"I'm taking a shower," Rob said, standing up, "Stella's going into Steve's house today, so we'll be watching and listening from the surveillance van."

Cricket nodded, and Rob grabbed a towel from the closet and went into the bathroom.

Never had a shotgun shot in the dark.

Cricket watched while Rob and Charlie loaded weights into the back of Stella's Mini. After the infiltration of Steve's house, which went surprisingly smooth, Charlie had the brilliant (or ludicrous, Cricket wasn't sure yet) idea to use three vintage Mini Coops to haul the gold from Steve's vault. Stella volunteered to drive the dry run and after securing an empty warehouse and setting up a model of Steve's house, they were ready to get the video feed to Lyle. According to him, everything worked in theory until science could back it up. He would take the dimensions of the Coop, and the blueprints Stella had retrieved from the house, and run them through a simulation, just to be sure.

Charlie and Rob shut the trunk, Rob patted the top of the car and the two of them moved to stand next to Cricket and Left Ear. "Okay," Rob said, "You're good to go."

Stella put the car into gear and smirked, flipping the car around easily and looking completely in her element. They all watched her drive the length of the garage, skidding around the tight corners and bouncing over the mocks stairs. The car listed too much with the added weights, and the back tires sunk too low to clear the drops, but even with the minor set backs, Stella breezed through the course.

"Wow," Cricket murmured, "Impressive. I can't even drive stick."

Rob looked at her. "Really?"

She nodded. "I mean, I was taken at sixteen. It would be a miracle if I could remember how to drive at all."

"Well, we'll have to fix that, won't we?" Rob said.

Before she could object, Stella screeched to a stop in front of them. She climbed out, looking beautifully smug, and tossed Rob the keys, who only pretended to be annoyed half-heartedly. He looked fairly impressed.

Charlie, however, was all business.

"We'll need more cars to handle the weight," he sighed.

"Looks like I'm going to need some help with the custom work too," Rob said. "I know a man for the job."

Left had a grin on his face that was akin to a little boy on Christmas morning. "Damn girl," he said with a laugh and Stella gave him a high five.

"Okay, I'll get Lyle set up so he can run the numbers. Left, Stella, you guys find me two more Coops. Rob, you to get your guy down here and we'll see what he can do."

"Now?" Left asked.

"Yes, now."

"He'll want a cut," Rob said.

"Fine, but no more than one percent of the haul."

Rob shrugged, glanced at Cricket and indicated for her to follow him. She did, and they left the warehouse to the car parked around back.

"So, who is this guy you know?" she asked, sliding into the passenger side and buckling up.

"He calls himself Wrench. A really skilled mechanic I met a few years back whose home base happens to be downtown Los Angeles. He does some of the best body work I've ever seen, in fact, there's only one other person I know who does better work than him."

"Who?"

"Me."

Rob looked at her a grinned and she rolled her eyes, glancing out the window as they drove. They didn't talk again until they pulled up to the garage fifteen minutes later, fairly good time for peak traffic. The shop was big and spacious, with a number of vintage cars littering the back lot. Rob lead the way inside.

"Wrench?" he asked the front desk man, who jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. Cricket followed Rob through the back of the shop, past mechanics removing tire lug nuts and mounting cars on lifts. They barely looked up as she and Rob crossed the garage and passed through vinyl strip curtains.

"Wrench," Rob called to the man who was bent over BMW 507 Roadster, carefully sanding the body. He glanced up and grinned, his teeth like a string of pearls against dark skin.

"Handsome Rob," he greeted lightly and the two embraced.

"Wrench this is Cricket, Cricket, Wrench," Rob introduced, "Listen, I'm in town for a few days and I've got a job for you. Interested?"

"What kind of job?"

"Just some body work on three Mini's."

Wrench nodded, considering. He indicated to the car he was working on. "I'm on a tight deadline with this bad boy. How soon do you need me?"

"As soon as possible. Preferably now," Rob said, raising his voice to be heard over the whir of the drills coming from the main shop.

Wrench groaned. "I run a business now Handsome," he said, "You can't keep coming in here expecting me to drop everything when you need help. I've got customers and deadlines and employees to look after! We can't all freelance our jobs like you."

Cricket shot Rob a look. She wouldn't exactly call thieving "freelance" work.

"I'll make it worth your while," Rob replied, sounding bored. It was evident this was not the first time they had had this conversation.

Wrench sighed again, giving Rob a contemptuous look. Then his eyes roamed over to Cricket. "Is that why you brought this piece of eye candy? To entice me?"

Rob frowned, brows furrowing. "Oi, show some respect," he chastised, then added, "And yes it was."

Cricket's head snapped around to look at him, mouth open, shocked and annoyed. He looked at her and shrugged. Wrench pursed his lips, weighing his options.

"Alright," he finally said, "But not today. I'll work through the night to get the Roadster done and meet you tomorrow morning. But that's it. This is the last time, Handsome. Start calling in and making an appointment like a normal person."

"Sure thing Wrench," Rob winked. "You're the best."

"Damn straight I am," Wrench called after them.

Rob and Cricket left the mechanic shop. They drove down Pico Boulevard back towards the warehouse with the windows down. Cricket watched the store fronts breeze by, hair waving around her face from the wind. Rob glanced in the rear view mirror, watching as a nice looking Porsche pulled out behind them.

"Did I ever tell you about my first job?" Rob asked. "I was hired as a gateway driver for a couple of mediocre criminals wanting to hit up a small bank. Terrible pay, but I thought it would be a nice challenge."

Cricket glanced at him, running a hand through her tangled hair. She looked curious, if not a little puzzled at his sudden willingness to share this story with her.

"Two guys on the job," Rob continued. "After they got their cash, they hopped into the back seat and I took off. We had half a dozen police officers on us within a minute. So, I'm up front focusing on the road, spinning through lights, drifting around corners—the works—and all of a sudden I hear gagging and I look back and one of them had thrown up all over the backseat. The bugger got car sick in the middle of a high-speed chase. What did he expect, Driving Miss Daisy?"

Cricket grinned. Rob glanced up at the rear view again, eyeing the cars behind them and frowning slightly. He wasn't sure exactly why he was telling her this. Maybe he just wanted to see her entertained, before she was terrified again. She was always so unsure, so guarded, so cautious, and for once, Rob wanted to make that go away, if only for a few seconds.

"I can't exactly stop, now can I?" he said. "I have six cops on my tail, two robbers in the back seat, and someone's lunch sliding around the floor of the car. I don't know what he had, but it smelled something terrible because I couldn't eat for two days after. We got away eventually, but I dropped that car off at the junkyard the moment I was able."

Rob blew through a yellow light.

"Weren't we supposed to turn there?" Cricket asked, pointing as they passed their intersection.

Rob frowned. "We're taking an alternate route," he said.

"Why?"

Rob didn't answer but continued to check the reflection in the rear view. Cricket twisted around in her seat to see what he was looking at, but it was just a line of cars behind them, typical city traffic.

The story had been a nice distraction, but now he needed her help.

"Do you see that Porsche 911?" Rob asked, and about three cars behind them, she could make out the sleek silver of the two door sport. "I think we're being followed." He glanced at her, and her brows drew together. "Do you recognize the car?" he asked.

They would have known if Steve caught onto their plan, Lyle had been tracking his every phone conversation, so whoever was in the car was not looking for Rob or the rest of the team. They were looking for Cricket. Her expression turned worried, uncertain.

"N-no," she said, looking at it again. "And I can't see the driver. Khan favors big SUV types, like Range Rovers, but it could be any number of his lackeys, or one of the popcorns, or another girl doing his dirty work. Are you certain they're following us? They—They're not going the same direction?" Rob shook his head no. He knew what tailing looked like, he had done it enough in his own crime career. "I don't know, I don't think I've ever seen that car before—"

Her voice quivered. Her sentences broke and stumbled over themselves whenever she was worked up, Rob had noticed. He reached over, laying a hand on her arm and silencing her.

"Listen, we're going to be fine," he said, and John's acronym for the word popped up in his mind. "You forget who's in the driver's seat, love. I've been losing tails since I was eighteen. I'll get us out of this."

She nodded mutely, her eyes wide. Panic was written on her usually molded face, open and vulnerable and frightened. She couldn't close herself off from the fear of ending up back in that motel room because the possibility was all too real right now. She couldn't manage a brave face.

Rob returned both hands to the steering wheel, maneuvering around traffic and cutting through a side street. He needed more open road if he was going to lose the Porsche. As suspected, the silver sports car wound around the standstill traffic to follow them. Cricket watched out the back.

"Please don't—"

"I won't," Rob interrupted, knowing exactly what she wanted to say.

Please don't let them take me.

And he wouldn't. He shifted the car smoothly, keeping under the speed limit until he found a window of opportunity for a chase. The rental car they were in couldn't outpace the Porsche, but he could probably out maneuver them if he found the right place to do so. He looked at Cricket, who couldn't seem to calm down. She kept twisting around in her seat, a bundle of frightened energy that wouldn't subside, like a flighty bird.

"Sit down," Rob ordered, "Face forward. I can't have you being thrown around while I'm taking corners at fifty miles an hour."

She did as she was told, taking a breath and adjusting her seatbelt.

"That's it," Rob said, "Forget about them. You're about to witness me burn rubber in a truly spectacular fashion." He looked at her, grinning wickedly. She managed a weak smile at his attempt to ease her.

"It's amazing to me how you manage to stay so egotistical at a time like this," she stuttered, and Rob's grin grew wider. If she could find it in herself to tease him back, then her thoughts weren't solely focused on the Porsche that was following them. Good, he needed her to have a clear head if they were going to get out of this one.

"You trust me, don't you?" Rob asked as he turned another corner. They neared the less crowded parts of the city. His hand hovered over the gear shift. He body felt like it was buzzing; itching and ready to throw the car into gear and slam on the gas.

"If I have to."

"You do."

"Then yes."

Rob sped up, yanked the brake back, released it, and cranked the wheel. He flipped a hundred and eighty degrees, turning clear around on the two way street and double backing on the Porsche. He was vaguely aware of Cricket clutching onto the armrest, pressed back in her seat. He fed the engine and the car responded, speeding down another street.

The Porsche managed to keep up, pulling a wide one eighty after them. Whoever the driver was, they had some experience.

Rob looked at Cricket. She had her eyes shut and he laughed. One hand still clutched the arm rest, the other went to the grab handle. Rob glanced at their tail. No one had fired shots at them, which meant they must have been under order to only track and not engage. He swerved down an industrial road; parked semis, empty lots, tall factory buildings, parking garages and loading docks. A playground of cement and manufacturing that they could get lost in.

The Porsche closed the gap between them, gaining with steady speed. Rob pushed their car faster, but Porsche kept up. They rammed the back of their car and Rob fought the steering wheel straight. Cricket screamed and they were jerked against the safety belts. Rob flipped the car off the road, through the open basement of one of the buildings. He weaved between the cement columns and breached the other side. Rob spotted a line of loading docks, each with semi's parked next to them. The window of opportunity. He looked for an open trailer.

The Porsche rose out from the basement after them. Rob cut across the lot, circling the main manufacturing plant, trying to find a way to circle back behind the Porsche. He cut through a pair of warehouses, reappearing on the other side of the loading docks. He cut the steering wheel, flipped the gear into reverse and shot backwards up a loading ramp, into the open empty trailer bay of a semi, and jerked to a stop.

"Kill the engine!" he snapped, jumping out of the car. Cricket reached over and yanked the key out of the ignition. Rob kicked the ramps off the trailer, and pulled each door closed with a grinding bang. A second later, he heard the soft rumble of the Porsche go by.

They were bathed in darkness inside the semi's trailer. It was quiet and hot from the sun beating down while it sat parked. Rob waited a few minutes, sweat forming on his face and the back of his neck. It was a good plan if they managed to stay hidden, but if the trailer doors were opened they would be sitting ducks for the divers of the Porsche. Rob felt his way back to the car, squeezing back into the driver's seat. The rental car was barley a few feet sorter than the width of the trailer.

"We lost them," Rob said. He couldn't see Cricket, but he could hear her uneven panting. "Are you okay?"

A pause and then: "Yes."

Rob nodded. "We'll lay low in here for a while and then ditch the rental."

She didn't say anything. The trailer was stifling, stuffy, but they couldn't risk opening the doors to let air in. The waited in silence as the minutes ticked by. After some time, Cricket spoke.

"Thank you," she said, her voice muffled in the darkness. She sounded odd, Rob wished he could see her face, but he could imagine her hands picking at the hem of her shirt. He didn't reply and again beats of quiet passed before she continued.

"I was hitch hiking," she said suddenly. "I made it all the way to Hatch, New Mexico before he picked me up. I had been gone from home a month or so, and I was just starting to get the hang of being a vagabond, you know? I thought it was such a great life experience; meeting strangers and exploring the country on foot," She gave a strangled laugh. "Christ, I was so stupid…I'm on the side of the road and he pulls over and offers me a ride and already I'm thinking to myself 'Not this guy. Wait for another car' but it was a hundred degrees at high noon and against my better judgment I accepted. He gets out, really charming and personable, and offers to put my backpack in the trunk…"

A tiny river of sweat ran down Rob's back, between his shoulder blades. He could feel himself holding his breath, trying to catch every word of hers in the darkness. He wanted so badly to see her expression, but he also had a feeling that's exactly why she was telling him this now; because he wouldn't be able to see the weakness in her eyes.

"He asks for my name and I tell him and he smiles and the next thing I know I'm being forced into the trunk and he's shutting the lid on me" she continued, "In broad daylight." She paused for a moment and Rob wondered if she was going to finish. His hands drifted to the steering wheel, tightening around the hot leather, needing something to ground himself to. An ugly fury reared its head inside his chest, filling him with disgust. "My first customer was an old man who said that I remined him of his granddaughter. Khan told him he could do whatever he wanted with me."

Rob swallowed thickly, at a loss for words. He struggled to keep his breathing under control, struggled to keep his hands from shaking with white hot rage. "Why did you tell me that?" he growled.

"I don't know," Cricket said softly.

He reached for her, his hand finding her shoulder. He felt her turn towards him and his fingers went to her face, taking her chin and drawing her nearer to him. He was surprised to find her cheeks dry. How she could repeat a story like that with such nonchalance was beyond him. He had such a blind hate building inside of him for Khan and the injustice and the loss of Cricket's innocence, and it turmoiled inside him with hot headed recklessness. He wanted to fight something, to yell, to burst from that trailer and drive as far and as fast as he could away from this place. From this job.

Cricket reached her hand up, fingers wrapping around his wrist, soft and warm and steady. She pulled his hand back, shifting away from him.

Rob sighed, letting the anger slip from his veins but not forgetting how it felt. He didn't offer sympathy because he knew she wouldn't take it.

"Come on," he murmured and opened the car door. He listened for a moment, just to be sure, before opening the trailer doors. Brilliant sunlight streamed in and he blinked away the burning sensation in his eyes. Fresh air whooshed through the open door. He jumped down, then turned to help Cricket climb out of the trailer.

She put her hands on his shoulders and he took her waist. He fought the urge to let his hands linger at her sides. He glanced around the factory plant.

"Leave the rental here," he said, "We need to find a car I can hotwire. We'll tell Charlie what happened, then keep our heads down in the hotel room for the rest of the night. Alright?"

He looked at her and she nodded.

It was the great escape, the prison break.

"Will you calm down? Stella's with her," Charlie said from across the warehouse, slightly annoyed. "Since when did my premiere wheelman turn into an overly protective, glorified babysitter?"

Rob shot him a look. "You weren't there Charlie," he said, "She was really frightened, and that Porsche came out of nowhere."

"She'll…be…fine."

Rob frowned, and Charlie lifted a brow. A warning; Rob was letting his emotions get the best of him and he needed to stop before he was too invested. Charlie let the topic drop and Rob went back to working on the red Mini.

Ever since they had been chased by the Porsche, Rob couldn't help a slightly paranoid and overly cautious streak that had taken up residence in the back of his mind. He kept Cricket close the following days, moving only between the hotel to sleep and the warehouse to work. She seemed to be sharing in his paranoia too, because she was much more agreeable and willing to sacrifice what little freedom she had with the team. She was content to sit and watch Rob and Wrench work on the Coopers. Finally, Stella had convinced them to ease their sudden rigidity to let Cricket go with her to pick up lunch. Though hesitant, Cricket finally gave in and they left some twenty minutes ago.

Rob finally relaxed when they returned with sandwiches. Cricket came to stand next to Rob while he finished up on the red Mini, and Stella passed around lunch. Wrench stopped and looked up, pulling up his welders' mask.

"We didn't get a chance to meet," he directed to Stella, "Wrench." The smile on his face could give Handsome Rob's own knee buckling million dollar grin a run for it's money, but Stella was unfazed.

Rob glanced over his shoulder at the two, knowing already how this conversation was going to end. Stella smirked, dropping a wrapped sandwich into his hand and replying, "Ham and cheese."

"Oh, that's cold, damn that's cold..." Wrench sighed, watching Stella walk away. She handed Rob a sandwich, then went to Left and Charlie on the other side of the warehouse, where Left was talking Charlie through the explosives they had available to them for the job. Rob unwrapped his sandwich, handing Cricket half.

"How much longer before they're done?" Cricket asked, indicating to the red Mini.

"This one's done," Rob said, "The other two have a bit more work before they're ready," he said, biting into the sandwich.

Something about those few minutes inside the trailer had changed the dynamic between Rob and Cricket. They were suddenly more understanding and comfortable and more open with each other. From strangers, to unlikely allies, to cautious friends. It was strange but welcomed. It had been years since Rob had felt this easy with another person and given the short time they had known each other made it even more odd. But Cricket had shared something deeply personal, something she had spent years burying and had to dig up just to share with him, and Rob found comfort in that. It felt good to be needed and trusted. He had spent years keeping people at a safe, platonic distance, he almost forgot what it felt like.

Rob glanced over at her, watching her eat. Telling him her story had not been an easy thing, he knew. She had waited until they were alone in the trailer, until the very last moment came when she wasn't sure if they would make it out or if she would be dragged back to Khan. She didn't give it up easily, and Rob surprised himself in caring so much about it.

"Hop in the Mini," Rob said, crumpling up the wrapper to the sandwich.

"Where are we going?"

"Not far," Rob replied cryptically and climbed into the driver's seat. He started the engine and backed up to where Stella, Left and Charlie were. He rolled down the window and leaned out. "Mini's done," he said, "We're taking it for a test run."

Charlie nodded and Rob shifted the car into first gear, driving out the open garage door and circling around to the empty back lot. He parked, climbed out, rounded the car and opened Cricket's door. "It's time you learned stick," he said with a smirk.

Cricket glanced at his face, pursing her lips, but got out despite looking wary. She circled to the driver's seat.

"Brilliant," Rob said, buckling up. "There's nothing significantly harder about driving a manual compared to an automatic, it just takes practice and a bit more concentration, but it's bloody fun."

Cricket nodded her head and clicked her seat belt into place.

"You've got your clutch there on the end, brake in the middle and gas on the right. Go ahead and press the clutch all the way down with your left foot. There, that's it. Now release it slowly...you're feeling for when the clutch engages. Feel it?"

"I think so."

"You're going to press the clutch in…all the way down…and to move forward, you're going give it a little gas and at the same time release the clutch slowly. Not yet! We're still in neutral. Give it a little gas, up to about fifteen hundred RPM," Rob reached over and moved the gear shift, "Now ease off the clutch. Ease. I said ease!"

The car bucked forward, Cricket yelped and slammed both feet onto the brake. Rob laughed.

"Do it again."

"No."

"Do it. You came off the clutch too fast."

She tried again, and the car jerked again.

"You're forgetting about those last two inches on the clutch. You feel it give and think that it's ready, but you've got to take it all the way up. Again, slowly, wait till you feel the biting point, give it gas, release it all the way."

Rob glanced at her. Her hands were practically wringing the wheel, and her face was pinched in concentration. He smiled, and was jerked against the belt when the car stalled. She tried a few more times, managing to get the car going but each time with a sharp kick.

"I'm letting it off slowly!" she snapped.

"Not enough at the end there!"

"Stop yelling!"

"I'm not yelling, you're not listening!"

"I'm not listening because you keep yelling!"

Rob looked at her, lips pursed. She glared back at him, and Rob reminded himself to be patient. He smiled, making his voice sweet. "I'm watching you do it, love. You're not easing."

She looked at him, giving him a closed lipped smile that was soured with sarcasm. "Darling, I'm doing my best," she said, her voice mockingly light.

Rob grinned and held his hand up. "Listen, I want your foot to go as fast or as slow as my hand goes, alright? Match the speeds." Rob began to move his hand and she mimicked the motion with her foot. "Give it a bit of gas, slowly off the clutch…slower, all the way now, that's it! Yes! Now into second. Yes!"

She shifted, a grin splitting across her face at the smooth transition. She looped the empty lot, keeping a steady, but hesitant pace.

"See?" Rob said, "It's not difficult, just more to think about between the clutch and switching gears and making sure you're giving it gas."

The car jerked to an awkward stop. Cricket looked over at him. "Are we done with driving lessons?" she said, her voice hinting at annoyance, but her smile saying something different. It was time they had some light-hearted fun. Between fixing the Coops, worrying about Khan, and hating Steve, Rob had forgotten to let loose a little. It seemed Cricket had too. The play was well deserved, but now it was time to get back to work.

"Alright then," Rob said, and they climbed out, switching. "You did good. A bit more practice and you could be driving as well as Stella."

Cricket snorted. "Doubtful, but thanks for the confidence boost."

The light of freedom on my face.

Rob dropped the keys to the white Mini on the table as he entered the hotel room. All three cars were finished, and they had taken them for a test run through the dried-up river bed of the LA River. An actual test drive, this time. They ran beautifully, not that Rob ever doubted they wouldn't. Wrench knew his cars and Rob knew his gateways, and together they managed to fix up three lightweight Mini's with enough suspension to carry pounds of gold, and enough torque to outrun any police cars chasing them.

Cricket was on the bed, flipping through channels. She glanced up at him as he sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled his shoes off.

"We're ready," he sighed, "We're finally ready. By this time tomorrow night, we'll have our gold back."

Cricket didn't say anything. Rob knew she still didn't approve of taking Steve's money, no matter how many times he told her that they were actually taking back their own gold, but she had stopped fighting him on it. She looked at him, dropping the remote onto the bed, the television forgotten.

"What's going to happen once you have the gold?" she asked.

Rob shrugged. "Get the hell out of dodge." She gave him a look and he waved his hand dismissively. "And get you taken care of, of course," he added. "You tell Lyle where you want to go, and he can print out a couple of fake IDs and a ticket. You'll ride along with me on the heist, all the way to Union Station. You pick what stop you want off on, and Lyle will take care of you from there. In less than twenty four hours, we'll finally be out of each other's hair."

He gave her an empty smile. She turned to him, crossing her legs over each other. "No, I mean honestly, what are you going to do with the money?" she asked. She dropped her chin onto the palm of her hand. Rob met her gaze. She seemed so different compared to the half clothed, frightened girl in the motel room he found over a week ago. He had to remind himself that just because that was his first impression of her, it didn't mean she was like that all the time, but for Rob it was hard to imagine her any other way while in the hands of someone like Khan. He much preferred this version of her. Fiery, smart, sharp, and who fidgeted with things when she was nervous.

"I guess I don't know," Rob finally said.

"It's a lot of money," Cricket pointed out. "I wouldn't even begin to know what to spend it on."

"A trip to Italy?"

Cricket smiled. "For starters. A new Aston Martin?"

"For starters."

They smiled at each other and all Rob could think was 'easy'. Easy to talk to, easy to be himself around, easy to understand. Everything about her was easy. Everything about her made him feel at ease. He sighed, realizing how close their faces were. He sat up a little straighter, putting some space between them.

"I suppose I'll lay low in South Africa for a while," he said, "Haven't been there yet and I've heard it's beautiful. After that, I don't know…find another job I suppose. Wait by the telephone until Charlie calls me bitching about a new mark he needs a driver for."

"Ever considered retirement?"

"You sound like John."

"So that's a no?" Cricket asked. "Is having a cookie cutter life that scary to you?"

Rob pursed his lips, glancing at the television. It was muted, but he watched nonsensical images flick across the screen. It wasn't that it didn't appeal to him, he just couldn't picture himself in a little house with a traditional family, doing something so…boring. That simply wasn't him. He turned to Cricket.

"I suppose so," he said, shrugging again.

"I get it," Cricket said, voice muffled slightly by her hand. "I never liked the idea of settling down and after all this, I don't know if I ever could." Rob's hands formed into involuntary fists at Cricket's nondescript mention of what had happened to her. A familiar hate filled him again. "I feel like so much of my life has already been robbed from me…I don't really have time to waste it away, you know?" Cricket continued. "I've got to take what's left of it and make it mine again."

Rob took a deep breath, glancing at her. She was so still, so detached from her feelings towards Khan, and he was unraveling with every work she spoke.

She gave a strained chuckle. "I haven't even been on an airplane before," she said, "I highly doubt I could navigate airport security, let alone a new city. I'm not sure I'm brave enough for an adventure like that. I'll probably end up back in Boulder…maybe I'll start classes at the college…"

She seemed unsure of herself, but when she glanced at Rob, she gave him a half smile anyways. An attempt to chase away the doubt she felt, to reassure Rob that she would be fine after they went their separate ways.

Rob uncurled his fists, glancing at the half moon marks his fingernails left in his rough palms.

"How can you be so indifferent?" he muttered.

"What?"

He looked at her. "Doesn't it infuriate you, what happened to you? Don't you hate Khan, and Steve, and all those other men who've touched you? And us, for dragging you along on our petty revenge scheme? How can you just…be okay with all this?"

She looked at him with furrowed brow. Her wide eyes flickered over the hard lines on his face, studying him. She blinked, and her expression turned sympathetic as she understood the venom he felt in his veins. She reached for him. "I'm not," she whispered. "I'm not okay with this. I'm…scared."

Rob felt his breath escape him, and with it, his anger, replaced with something empathetic and protective and somber. Under all her layers; the sarcasm, the placidity, the architect, the prostitute, the secrets and the plans, she was scared. A young woman too frightened to run away, to show her true feelings, to put her trust in herself and other people. Part of him wanted to help her, but a stronger part didn't know how. He wasn't Charlie, who would jump at the chance to save a life. He was always soft like that; carefully planning tactical thievery so that no one would get hurt. Rob was more of a kick-down-the-door-with-guns-blazing type. He couldn't connect to people the way Charlie or John could. He wasn't even sure Cricket wanted his help, or just wanted him to know the truth.

He didn't know what to do.

He stared at her a moment and she stared back, her eyes wet.

He closed the space between them, bringing his hand to her face and pulling her towards him. He kissed her, and she hesitated. He wouldn't know what to say to her, so he didn't even try. Actions were his language, and these actions he knew well. It took a few seconds, but she gave into him, melting into his kiss and bringing her hands up to his chest. He hugged her closer and they were a mess of kisses, and tongues, and tugging and hair and Steve's face appeared behind his closed eyelids.

Rob jerked away. Cricket sank back, eyeing him.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Her lips were slightly swollen.

He couldn't answer her. He could only see Steve's face, Steve striding out of the motel room, adjusting his pants. He could remember the smell when he burst into that motel room to see Cricket pulling her clothes back on.

The anger came again, but this time it came for Steve, who managed to take everything from Rob. He hated that slimy bastard and his skinny hands that got on everything; his gold, his car, and now Cricket. Rob felt uneasy.

She read his expression, looking hurt.

"It's…it's because of Steve," she said, "And all the other men."

Rob pursed his lips, nodding slowly.

She swallowed, looking away from him, her nose crinkled in disgust. She slid off the bed and stood up.

"Cricket…"

"Don't," she snapped. Her face was a mixture of hurt and embarrassment and anger. She took a step back from the bed when he moved towards her. "You—you're a hypocrite, Rob," she said. She yanked on her sleeve. "You—I don't…" she fought the words, raking a hand through her hair in frustration. "I don't know whether to be upset or ashamed—"

"No," Rob said, urgently, "It's not that. Cricket, listen, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant."

"God!" she gasped. She stood there, shaking her head. Her finger wrapped around a loose thread on her shirt and she snapped it. The noise sounded too loud in Rob's ears. He thought that she would start yelling, like the fight they had nights ago, but she didn't. She sighed, going to the closet and yanking out a towel, slipping into the bathroom and slamming the door closed.

Rob groaned loudly, dropping back and smacking his head against the headboard and because it didn't hurt enough, he did it one more time. He didn't know what was wrong with him tonight. Everything was wrong. He couldn't think clearly. His emotions were out of control. He was FINE; fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional all because of the girl in the bathroom and the trouble she had brought and the feelings she made him feel. He glanced at the bathroom door, thinking of Steve and Charlie's warning about getting too involved. He thought of John and that frigid day they went over the bridge and how he lost control of the van. And how he seemed to be losing control now. He thought of the job and then he stopped thinking all together.

Rob frowned, brow furrowed, lips pressed to a line. He got off the bed and moved towards the bathroom door, pulling his shirt off over his head. He was tired and exhausted from worrying. He wanted to take back what should have been his in the first place. He opened the bathroom door. The mirror was clouded with steam. He stripped off the rest of this clothing and opened the shower door. She glanced over her shoulder at him, eyes bloodshot, then dropped her head back under the spray. He wanted her.

And now we're both sorry.

"Maybe you should stay in the car," Rob suggested. They were parked outside the restaurant Steve had met Stella at. After the discovery of the neighbor's party, the job had been postponed and the team had followed Stella to her date. Charlie didn't trust Steve and insisted that they come along just in case. "I don't think it will be a good idea, should Steve see you."

Cricket nodded.

Rob opened the car door and followed Steve, Left Ear and Lyle into the restaurant. He pressed the button the key fob, listening to the locks on the car doors click into place.

"She's not coming?" Charlie asked, nodding his head towards the rental.

"No."

"Stay low," Charlie instructed to the rest of them. They pushed through the glass double doors of the restaurant. "Lyle and Left take the bar. Rob, you hang by the kitchen, I'll stay by the hostess podium."

They all separated for their posts. Rob glanced across the restaurant at Stella and Steve. She looked like she was holding her own. In fact, she looked rather comfortable, considering. She was a good actress, better than he gave her credit for. He slipped behind the kitchen barrier keeping an eye on their table. One of the sous chefs approached him, knife in hand, ready to tell him off for being where he wasn't supposed to. Before he could say anything, Rob pulled out his wallet and handed over a few bills. The sous chef took the bribe and returned to his station without missing a beat. Rob leaned against the half wall while he watched.

The restaurant was nice, atmospheric. At least Steve wasn't a cheap date.

They barely finished their main course before Rob saw trouble. Stella was suddenly tense, and Steve grabbed hold of her wrist. Rob glanced towards the hostess station, where Charlie was watching them like how pointer watched a pheasant. He gave a miniscule shake of his head. Wait for the signal, those had been the instructions.

"Who are you working with?"

The glass bottle of water dropped. The signal. Charlie moved towards the table and so did Rob, lips curved slightly. He would relish the look on Steve's face when he realized his former allies were in fact alive.

"She's with us."

Steve leaned back in his chair, carefully hiding his shock. "The gang's all here," he sneered, and Stella rose to her feet, Charlie and Rob moving to stand behind her. His lip twitched unpleasantly, and his eyes flickered to Rob, recognition playing behind his eyes. "I should have known. Khan told me he saw her with some burly looking Neanderthal who had skill behind the wheel. I should have known he was talking about you. Tell me, are you enjoying her yet? Someone might as well be if I'm not."

Rob's hands curled to fists and he fought every instinct that told him to upper cut the greasy mustache right off Steve's face. Charlie placed a warm, calm hand on Rob's tense forearm.

Steve waved his hand, an attempt at a careless gesture.

"You know the only thing worse than a thief?" Stella asked him, her voice strained. "A coward."

"Then you should have seen the way your daddy begged for his life."

Stella lunged across the table at him ad Rob and Charlie both scrambled to hold her back. Rob managed to get an arm around her, pulling her away. He led her out of the restaurant, but not before Steve called after them, "Put a leash on your cat!"

Rob indicated for Left and Lyle to follow them out and they did. They gathered in the parking lot, Rob taking a deep breath of warm summer air to calm down. Stella looked shaken and he finally released her.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, and she nodded.

"What happened?" Left asked, "Why is Charlie talking to Steve?"

Rob shook his head. "I don't know, but listen, now that Steve knows we're no longer dead, things have changed," Rob said. Everyone was on edge. Their plan seemed to be unraveling very quickly tonight and Rob hopped that Charlie knew what he was doing. He sighed. "There'll be no entering his house, so we'll have to wait for another window to get to the safe. We might have to do some damage control come tomorrow morning. Lyle, you're still keeping tabs on his phone lines?"

Lyle nodded.

"Good. Keep listening for any useful information. Left and Stella you both have to be on your game and ready in a moment's notice if needs be. For now lets get back to the hotel room, keep our heads down until we know what Charlie wants to do."

Everyone seemed to agree. It wasn't much of a plan, but at this point, Rob didn't know what was going to happen, or if the heist was even going to still happen, now that they no longer had the element of surprise. Lyle and Left walked to their car and Rob turned around and froze. The passenger door to his rental was open, the window shattered, and an empty seat.

"Handsome?" Stella asked. Her eyes slid to the car and she gasped.

Rob could feel the muscles in his face and hands and shoulders tense, twitching with pent up anger and confusion and surprise. He strode to the car, ignoring Stella calling out his name. He opened the trunk and withdrew the crowbar.

"Lyle," Rob barked, and the tech genius looked up at him. "Take Stella back to the hotel. Tell Charlie I'll be indisposed for the rest of the night. I'll meet up with you lot tomorrow morning."

"Handsome, what are you doing?" Stella asked. He slammed the trunk closed and rounded the front of the car, opening the drivers side door. He shot her a meaningful look over the hood. "Wait, you don't even have a gun!" Stella said, "At the very least take Charlie with you!"

Rob closed the car door and revved the engine, pulling out of the parking lot and leaving a ribbon of burnout behind him. He didn't need Charlie to come with him, he didn't need to ask Steve who had taken Cricket, he didn't need a gun, he didn't need to figure out where they had gone. What he needed, what he had been wanting to do since the day he walked into that motel that wouldn't pass health inspection, was to spill some blood.

He flew down the road, careless of speed limits, heading south for Wilmington. The Night Hop would be empty. Khan would know better than to drag her back to where Rob had first found her. It would be the first place he went to go look for her. That left one other place where Rob hoped she would be; the warehouse on the industrial side of town, the one Cricket had mentioned when they were scouting out the Netcom work vans.

He drove along the waterfront, through the oil fields that reeked with the stench of burning sulfur and the shipping crates that glowed under the dim harbor lights. He slowed, rolling down the window. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, some sign of Khan or Cricket or the warehouse. Any noise that echoed against metal ship hulls made his head turn, only to find a late night dock worker, or a stray dog, or some kids up to no good. He faltered, wondering if Khan had decided to take her back to the motel after all. Then he wondered if something much worse happened to her.

He shook his head, letting the thought go. Khan wouldn't have wasted time with something so messy, and in his eyes, Cricket wouldn't have been worth the trouble. Except, she did bring in a substantial amount of cash, most of it from Steve who had more money than what he knew what to do with, and she did mention Khan's temper. Rob grit his teeth, speeding up a little more. It didn't matter what was happening to her, he told himself, he just needed to find her so he could end it.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye; figures mulling around the loading dock beneath a warehouse. He circled back around the building that still bore the outlines of a company name on the steel front. He parked beneath the looming shadow of shipping containers, cutting the engine and watching the entrance. A few dock workers entered, a few left, quiet and unobtrusive as they went about their work. Then the door banged open and a man as tall as a tree stepped out. Rob tensed, reaching for the crowbar that was sitting across the passenger's seat.

Cricket followed, a small back pack slung over her shoulder and her prostitute sisters watching from the doorway. There was dried blood around her nose, bruises on her arm he could make out, but she didn't look much the worse for wear. At least she was still breathing. Khan called over his shoulder at her.

"Hurry up."

He opened the door to a black SUV.

"Where are we going?" Rob heard Cricket ask and she picked up her pace. He got out of the car and started walking towards them, the crowbar heavy and reassuring in his hand. He couldn't let them leave because he didn't want to subject her to spending one more second with that brute. And he certainly couldn't risk losing them. No more wasted time, it ended now.

She was climbing up into the car as he stepped beneath the warehouse lights. Khan's eyes flickered to him and he glared.

"I was wondering if you'd come for her," Khan said. Cricket looked over at him, eyes widening. "You're very persistent, aren't you?"

Rob shrugged. "I've always wanted what I can't have."

"Well you can't have," Khan said, "So leave."

Rob didn't move. Cricket was still half way into the SUV, eyes flickering between her pimp and Rob, also not moving. Khan frowned and stepped around the vehicle. He reached behind him to the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants, coming to stand a few feet from Rob's face.

"Now, now," Rob said as Khan drew the weapon, the metal winking wickedly at him. "Let's make this a gentleman's game." Rob lifted the crowbar in offering.

"I'm not a gentleman."

"I wasn't asking."

Rob clutched the bar and swung it around fast as he could. It collided with the side of Khan's face, sending him sprawling onto the ground. His gun discharged when it went skittering over the concrete, the shot ricocheting off the warehouses' steel frame. The girls by the door screamed and ran back inside. Rob lunged on top of him, straddling and raising the crowbar again. Khan, a stream of blood trickling out of his ear, caught the bar and blocked the coming blow. They rolled.

Khan grabbed the crowbar with both hands, Rob still holding on and refusing to let go. He leaned into the bar, bringing it down to Rob's chest, closer to his throat. Rob groaned and pushed back, the muscles in his arm and chest pinching from the strain, but Khan bore all of his weight down and he felt the pressure against his Adams apple. He scrambled for a solution.

The solution came in the form of a slight young woman. With much fear in her, but a sliver of courage which was all she needed. Cricket barreled into Khan, having finally found her strength to move from the SUV. It was enough to offset Khan's balance and the two of them went tumbling over Rob. The crowbar dropped and clattered against the ground and Rob swallowed and rolled onto his hands and knees and saw Khan on top of Cricket. He drew a fist back and it cracked against her face. She cried out and fresh blood gushed from her nose. He slapped her. Rob picked up the crowbar, ran to them, and smacked it against Khan's back. He didn't give him the chance to be stunned by the blow. He reeled back again and hit Khan across the face, before he could recover. Khan was thrown off Cricket from the force, spinning face down into the ground. He groaned. Rob stepped closer, grabbing the front of his shirt to lift him. He raised the crowbar again and brought it down. Again and again and again.

Cricket scrambled to her feet. "Stop!" she yelled and it was enough to snap Rob from his red hot fury. He paused, crowbar raised above his head, and looked down at Khan. His face was cracked and bleeding and swelling. He was breathing, shallow and wheezing, but he was limp in Rob's hand. He looked at Cricket, who looked mortified, then down at his shirt, which was splotched with blood.

The crowbar was slick and warm in his hand. It hovered over Khan's head. He looked back at the pimp again. He reared back again as Cricket screamed, "No!" then brought the crowbar down one last definitive time. There was a snap and he tossed the crowbar. He moved off Khan.

He went to the discarded gun and picked it up, flipping the safety and tucking it away. Cricket jogged to the rental and Rob followed her, looking over at the prostitutes and their customers who had watched the fight from the loading dock. They looked on, disturbed, but in no hurry to call the police.

They drove back to the hotel, Rob checking the rear view mirror often, and Cricket trying to clean the blood off her face. She stole quick glances at him. She looked sick, and frightened at what he had done.

"What happened?" Rob asked.

It took a while before she answered.

"Once you were inside he showed up and smashed the window in. He unlocked the door and dragged me out and took me back to the warehouse. He made me pack my things and that's when you showed up."

"Did he say anything about what he was planning?" Rob asked, though he had a few colorful ideas.

"No, he didn't tell me anything." She said and then added, almost hastily, "And I didn't say anything to him."

"It wouldn't have mattered anyways," Rob said, and he sped down the boulevard, filling Cricket in on what had happened inside the restaurant. Now, more than ever, he wished the heist had gone down tonight, like planned. The sooner they could get on the Sunset Limited and out of Los Angeles, the better. Not only did they have Khan after them, but now Steve, and already the amount of people in on the job was one too many. Things were getting messy; a Hydra of problems: solve one and two more appear.

"I should have been more careful," Rob growled. "I should have known Khan wouldn't have let you go like that. Especially after the Porsche incident…"

"Stop," Cricket said firmly, tenderly wiping away the rest of the blood. Her nose could very well be broken, but he couldn't be sure until they were under the florescent lights of the hotel bathroom and he had a chance to look at it better. "I thought—I thought that maybe that was the end of it. I thought you wouldn't come for me because I've been nothing but dead weight on this revenge mission of yours…and suddenly I was back in Khan's hands and no longer your responsibility."

"How could you think that?" Rob asked, and she shrugged. "Besides, we had a deal." He added.

She looked at him, a smile ghosting her lips. "Thank you, Rob," she said quietly, "That's three times you've saved me."

"Well, had you not tackled him, I'd've had my windpipe crushed," Rob pointed out.

"I guess we make a good team," Cricket said.

"I guess so."

"What happens now?" she asked as they pulled into the hotel parking lot.

"I suppose we wait until the next opportunity to take the gold. Hopefully Charlie has something up his sleeve."

"Hopefully."

'Cause us traitors never win.

Charlie most definitely had nothing up his sleeve, much to Rob's chagrin. He knocked on their door early the next morning and Rob, sore and bleary eyed and riddled with nightmares, unwound himself from Cricket and shuffled to the door.

"What?"

Charlie's eyes slid to Cricket. Her bare back was too them, shoulder blades resting on top of each other, smooth skin grey in the early morning dawn, hair splayed over the pillow. Charlie raised a brow.

"What?" Rob repeated, sounding bored. He wasn't going to give Charlie the satisfaction of seeming guilty or defensive over his questioning glance.

"Get dress, we're all meeting at the garage in a few minutes." Charlie said, then turned and strode down the hall.

Rob leaned out and called after him. "Why, what's the plan?"

"To get our gold back!"

Rob rolled his eyes and ducked back into the hotel room, closing the door.

Charlie's brilliant plan of taking the Mini's through Steve's house had fallen to pieces. They met in the work warehouse almost every day, brainstorming new tactics for getting he gold back and still utilizing the Mini's as getaway cars. While they talked, Lyle sat at his station listening in on Steve's phone conversations for any bit of useful information, but now that Steve knew they were alive, that Stella was John's daughter and that Cricket was on their side, it made the element of surprise far less surprising.

"Pay off his rent-a-cop?" Rob suggested one afternoon as Stella passed around coffee she picked up from the corner café. "Or his maid? We could have someone in his house slip a sleeping pill into the glass of Merlot he drinks with dinner. He'll be out cold, and we can be in and out before he wakes."

Charlie shook his head. "I don't think any of his employees could be paid off, certainly not the guard at the gate. Left's done his research on the man and getting hired by Steve was the best thing that ever happened to him; helped him bring his family up from Mexico," Charlie sighed, glancing at Cricket, who sipped at her coffee.

The look did not go unnoticed by Rob. "No," he said sternly.

Charlie frowned at him. "I'm just looking at all our options," he sneered. He picked up the basketball and tossed it into the hoop they dragged in from the park. Stella came and sat on the work table Rob was at, picking up a spark plug and a rag. She had been on edge the last few days, the date having done a number on her. For some reason, Rob felt partially responsible, like he should have done more to get her out of that restaurant and away from Steve before he managed to crawl under her skin and get inside her head.

"There'll be nothing left of that if you keep rubbing it." Rob teased as she worked the plug in her hand. She glanced at him, smiled and sighed.

"Charlie!" Lyle called from across the garage. "He's flying to coop!"

"When?"

Lyle filled them in on the conversation he overheard, about an armored truck, a helicopter, and Mexico City. As Stella voiced her concern about a moving safe, Rob watched the calculation behind Charlie's eyes, and it was that very reason that Rob didn't mind following their leader. He was smart, decisive, optimistic.

"Steve's not about to let that gold out of his sight. It's going to be in that truck and he's going to be watching it every step of the way from the helicopter," Charlie said.

"So the gold's headed to Mexico."

"Who knows where?" Stella said, seeming unconvinced, "They could change the flight plan midair."

Charlie smiled. "Slow down, you guys are going about this all wrong."

Rob glanced at Cricket as they argued. She seemed thoughtful, and that surprised him. From the beginning she had been against the heist but was careful to keep her mouth shut. She knew that voicing her dislike for the plan wouldn't bode well with the team, so she usually pretended not to be listening. She seemed fully engaged though, curious even. Rob smirked, remembering his first taste of the crime world and how it was both disgusting and liberating on his tongue. Cricket must have been feeling the same way.

"We've been trying to get to the gold in the safe, now the safe is coming to us," Charlie explained. "We're going to boost it in transit."

Another wave of protest came at him and Charlie grinned.

"Where do you want it to go? We can't have a shoot out with armed guards, we'd lose," Lyle pointed out.

"We do it like the Italian Job."

Think about the place where you first met me.

They sat parked at the curb. Left was will Stella in the red car, Charlie had taken the lead and Rob and Cricket were positioned in the back of the line. They were waiting for Lyle's go ahead and despite the very precarious, very high stakes mission looming over their heads, the atmosphere in the Mini Coop was relatively calm. Rob turned the dial on the radio, trying to find a station. The only hint at Cricket's nerves was the bounce in her leg.

Steppenwolf's "She'll Be Better" drifted on through the speakers and Rob sighed.

"Ah, a classic," he murmured.

"You are woefully calm considering this plan was thrown together in less than twelve hours."

"Sink or swim, love," Rob commented, glancing at her. "That," he said, pointing at her leg, "Has to stop. I can't have you panicking while I'm trying to drive, okay? You need to trust that I'll keep you in one piece."

She settled as Lyle's voice crackled over the coms. They watched Charlie thump over the curb and make a sharp turn down the Walk of Fame. People on the sidewalk screamed and jumped out of the way as Stella followed inches behind him.

"That's our cue," Rob said and threw he car into gear. They tore down the sidewalk to the metro station, dropping down the flights of stairs to the underground. Cricket gave a nervous laugh, her voice drumming with the wheels.

"Thirty seconds and counting," Lyle said into the earpiece. Cricket glanced out her window at the train that pulled along side them on the track.

"Rob…?" she said wearily, the mood from before vanishing like a wisp of smoke in the thick seriousness of the situation. It was easy to plan a rail escape on paper, it was an entirely different thing to do it in person.

Charlie and Stella cleared the gap but the last few feet were closing in.

"Rob!" Cricket cried, her voice breaking.

"Trust me!" he snapped, collected and calculating as he swerved onto the rail, the back bumper nipping the corner of the train. He straightened out and followed the car lights down the dark tunnel shafts. Years of practice, and though the thrill shot through his body like it was the first time, he managed always to keep a level head. Next to him, Cricket breathed out a shuttering breath.

They pulled to a stop and Rob opened his door.

"Wait here."

"But—"

He slammed the door shut. The rest of the team followed, everyone moving swiftly. Rob took his position and cocked the grenade launcher. Left ducked behind the cars, the detonator at the ready. They listened for Wrench's countdown.

The armored truck fell through the ceiling in a cloud of debris seconds later, the explosions ricocheting off the dark tunnels and sending vibrations down their spines. He could hear people above screaming as he launched the smoke grenade through the windshield. Charlie opened the rear doors.

They waited while Stella worked. Rob glanced over his shoulder at Cricket, who watched from the passenger's seat. There were blue circles under her eyes, remnants of Khan's brutality. Rob knew his own eyes were drawn and grey, but more so from lack of sleep than anything else. It was a difficult thing, taking another life when he considered himself a generally good person. It was instances like that that kept him awake at night, questioning what kind of man he was.

Cricket met his gaze and gave him a weak smile. They had been through a lot the last few weeks, more so than the rest of the team, and it was beginning to show. When he woke that morning, Rob was very much ready for this all to be over and done with.

Stella cracked the safe and pulled open the door. Rob whipped around to watch the gold come into view, bright, clean, and once again his.

They worked quickly to load the gold, sending them down the suspenders to Left, who packed them in the trunks. Steve would know his gold had been hijacked by now, and Rob wished he could see the look on his face. He packed up the gear and tossed it in the back of the white Mini, over the gold, as Lyle began calculating their catch. He got behind the wheel again, and the three cars fell into formation, heading for the storm drain.

Rob felt the tension in is body vanish as they drove. He knew they weren't in the clear yet, but the getaway was his specialty and the gold was in their possession once again. He couldn't help the infections excitement that coursed through the team as things were finally beginning to go their way again. Rob followed the procession along the tracks through the storm drain, glancing in the rear view mirror as another set of revving engines filled the tunnel.

"Two motorcycles on us, Charlie," he said into the com as Cricket twisted around to glance out the back.

He heard the pop and whizz of bullets. The glass in the back window spider webbed from the bullet hole. He flinched, and Cricket screamed as another bullet pass through the car and one dinged off the side.

"Get down!" Rob commanded and Cricket shrank in her seat. He tilted the car left against the tunnel to clear space for the motorcyclist to pull along side him. As soon as he was in his blind spot, Rob cranked the wheel back and the motorcycle and rider went skidding along the wet storm drain. Another shot rang out and Rob felt a searing pain in his bicep.

The light of the Los Angeles riverbed grew at the end of the tunnel. Rob sped up to clear the jump. One, two, and three they burst from the storm drain into the day light, skimming across the water. Rob whipped the car around and yanked the emergency brake, the back tires gliding around in a one-eighty.

"Open your door!"

She did as she was told, bracing her legs again the door right as the motorist slammed into it and summersaulted over the Mini. She pulled it closed again, whooping and laughing. Rob looked at her, grinning, almost forgetting the pain in his arm.

They drove along the riverbed, Steve's chopper appearing above them. He followed Charlie up the embankment onto the golf course.

"You've been hit!" Cricket said suddenly, looking at his arm. "Rob, you're bleeding!"

"Ah, is that what it is?" Rob said evenly.

"What are you going to do Rob?" Charlie's voice crackled in his ear.

He sighed, glancing down at his left arm that rested against the gear shift. It was painful to move. He hissed, stopping below the cover of trees and throwing the car into park.

"Cricket's driving."

He got out and rounded and car, Cricket climbing out and looking at him with mortification written across her face.

"You can't be serious?"

"I am," he said.

"Rob, I can't do this," Cricket said across the hood of the Mini. "I barely know how to drive, let alone handle stick!"

Rob sighed again, his good hand clutching the wound on his arm. He glanced up as the wind picked up and the top of the trees began to shake, the helicopter thumping above them menacingly. "I'll shift the gears, you run the clutch," he said and climbed in. They had to move. Cricket took her place behind the wheel.

"Right," Rob said, "Clutch in, gas in, just like I taught you. You can do this, Cricket."

She worked the pedals and Rob shifted with his good arm.

"Go, go, go," he said and they sped off.

Should have known I'd be the first to leave.

She managed to keep up with Charlie and Stella. With Rob shifting, she could focus on the clutch, and while it wasn't nearly as smooth or well timed as it would have been had Rob been driving, they were able to make it work. The back windshield was riddled with bullet holes, there was a motorcycle size dent in the bumper, the front was torn up and Rob's blood was soaking through his jacket, but they were still moving and that was what was important.

"I'm going to take Steve, you guys go straight to Union Station. I'll meet you there!" Charlie said over the ear piece.

They followed Stella to the train yard, the paved roads turning to gravel and tracks beneath their wheels. Cricket handled the car like a new driver, but steady enough. She drove up the ramp to the car carrier, waved in by Wrench in a stolen uniform, with enough precision and speed that it made Rob smirk. They parked behind Stella and climbed out of the car, Cricket looking flushed. She ran a hand through her hair.

They waited for Charlie in tense silence. Stella, Rob, Left Ear and Cricket loitered against the car while Wrench stood outside, keeping an eye out for Charlie's approach. Lyle would also be making his way from baggage claim soon.

"Hey," Rob said and Cricket looked up at him, "That was some well handled driving back there."

Cricket huffed. "I'm not sure I can take much credit, you did half the work."

"I shifted gears, the rest—maneuvering, manning the clutch, speeding—that was all you."

"You managed to keep up with Stella," Left said, "That's not an easy feat."

"A few more runs and we'll make a criminal out of you yet," Stella said.

Cricket didn't reply, but there was a small smile on her lips. She looked at Rob again, her hazel eyes drifting to the stain on his arm. "We need to take care of that."

Rob glanced down at his wound, then pulled off his jacket with a grunt. Cricket helped him roll up his sleeve. She put her hands on his arm, looking over the chunk of muscle missing. Blood trickled down in a thin stream to his elbow.

"I don't see a bullet?" Cricket said, "You might need stiches."

Rob chuckled, he had suffered much worse.

"I'll be fine. Get something to wrap it with."

Cricket nodded. Wrench had a red bandanna in the back pocket of his Pacific Union uniform. He handed it to her, and Cricket wound it around Rob's arm and tied it off tightly. She helped him pull his jacket back on.

"Who taught you to drive like that anyways?" Rob teased.

Cricket shrugged, not meeting his gaze. "Some man," she murmured. "A bit of a gruff, and way to cocky for his own good, but all things considering…I suppose I like him."

They heard the screech of tires and Charlie pulled in, in the blue Mini, seconds later. He jumped out.

"Let's move, Steve's right behind me."

"Cheers."

They clinked champagne glasses in the dining car of the Sunset Limited, bound for New Orleans with over two million dollars worth of gold stashed in the car port. They drank, grinning and in good spirits. Rob looked down at Cricket, standing next to him. He put his arm around her. She glanced down at his hand on her hip, then up at him, before taking another sip from her glass, her expression unreadable.

He almost asked her what could possibly be wrong. They had their gold, Lyle had fixed transportation for her to get back to Colorado, she would finally be free from her deal with them, and, more importantly, she was finally free from Khan. She wasn't sad about leaving, that much Rob was certain. She wasn't the type of girl to get teary-eyed over goodbyes, and although in another life, there maybe could have been something between them, they weren't in that other life. They only had this one, and this one was too complicated and messy to be involved.

Lyle turned to her, pulling out a couple of tickets and a fake ID.

"You have a bus ticket from the train station to the El Paso airport. From there, a quick flight to Denver and you'll be back home before you know it," he said with that wide grin of his.

Cricket took the papers and nodded.

Stella reached across the circle and drew her into a hug, which made Cricket stiffen. "I'll be sorry to see you go," she said. "There's far too much testosterone on this team."

She pulled back and Charlie offered his hand. The train began to slow, the conductor's voice coming over the speakers to announce their approach into El Paso. Cricket took his hand and shook it. "Good luck with everything," he said, "If you do decide to go to the police after all, be sure to give us a couple days head start?"

Rob rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said, "I'll walk you out."

He led her through train compartments until they reached the doors to the platform. They stood across from each other, Cricket clutching the tickets in her hands, as they waited for the train to pull into the station.

He wasn't sure what to say to her. She deserved more than just a goodbye, but he wasn't good with words. How could he tell her that in the beginning he had been trying to save her, but in the end, it was her saving him? Or that being with her was more than just sex and teasing and danger and chaos? It was also safe and comforting and familiar and he wasn't sure if he could be completely indifferent with her departure like he was with other women. He finally settled on something less pathetic sounding, and was about to open his mouth, when she spoke first.

"Elise."

"What?"

"My name…Elise Dailey."

"Well…fuck," Rob said, surprised. "You don't look like an Elise."

She gave him an annoyed look, her nose crinkled slightly.

"I mean, it's a nice name, just doesn't seem to fit you."

"You prefer Cricket?"

"Yes, actually."

She smiled. He smiled. The train rolled into the station, the wheels whistling as they drew to a stop. The doors hissed opened and the noise of the platform filled the cabin. She put her hands on his chest, reached up on tip toes and kissed him; quick but fervent. She pulled away and stepped off the train.

"Goodbye, Handsome Rob."

"Goodbye, Elise Dailey."

That was the last time you ever saw me.

"What do you mean there's only two cars?"

The steward looked between Charlie and Rob, both of whom were standing over him menacingly. Left Ear, Stella and Lyle were standing behind them on the unloading platform, open mouthed. The heat of New Orleans filled the car claim station with suffocating humidity.

The steward licked his lips and checked his clipboard with the manifest. "I mean, you have three cars registered, but one of them has already been claimed."

"Open the car carrier," Charlie growled, and the worker did as he was told, sliding the heavy metal door along its runner. They filed into the hot train car, reminiscent of the time Rob and Cricket—Elise—spent hiding in the semi truck's trailer. They glanced around. The blue and red Mini's were still there, but the white one was missing.

The steward consulted his clipboard again. "The white Mini Cooper was offloaded back in El Paso. If you have your tickets I can figure out what went wrong and we can file an insurance claim or work on getting your car back, sir," the steward rambled, looking genuinely scared for his life.

Rob and Charlie looked at each other. Rob reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, where his claim ticket was, but felt nothing. He checked the other pockets to be sure.

Charlie went red faced. "I told you not to trust her."

The shock on Rob's face gave way to a smile, hesitant at first, but growing until he was grinning. He started to laugh. Charlie looked at Stella, who shrugged, dumbfounded. The steward looked between them, unsure. Charlie turned back to Rob.

"I'm glad you find this so hilarious, since it's your cut she made off with."

Rob laughed harder. He stepped down from the loading ramp, shaking his head.

"Where are you going?" Charlie called after him.

Rob turned to face him, arms out in a shrug. "I've got to get a car, preferably something fast, and then I'm going to Colorado."

"How do you know she'll still be there?" Charlie yelled as Rob crossed the station to the main road.

"She's and eighteen year old girl, with a million in gold bars, driving cross country in a car she can barley handle. She can't've gone far, I will find her."

No, nothing good starts in a getaway car.