Stuck

"Most of the time it was probably real bad being stuck down in a dungeon. But some days, when there was a bad storm outside, you'd look out your little window and think, "Boy, I'm glad I'm not out in that.""

-Jack Handy

We were stuck.

After the last major heist we had calmed down for a while but now, almost a year and a half after 'The Bank' I found myself surrounded by the same group for another.

As an older casino, Desert Palms had recently been bought out by none other than a Willy Bank look-a-like, Tony James. The bits of the story that I heard were that James is an old rival of Rusty's from some years ago because Rueben helped Rusty get the ownership rights to a property James wanted, or something of that sort. Now James has a new casino on the rise that he bought the rights from Rusty under a different name and is taking the little business he had. Not only that, but he purposely informed Rusty that it was in fact he that bought the casino and is now causing Rusty to go into bankruptcy.

We had the supplies, the plans, and the places, but not enough people. James basically has Rusty's life on tape, so he would recognize any of us.

Last night, we had all been thinking of others that we could trust, all of us sitting and standing around the room, throwing out ideas. Danny had called in the whole team, including Bobby. As the group thought, and I was trying to think of anyone, anything I could remember from everything I had learned in the past few years, Bobby had stood up and dialed a number into his phone.

After just listening, he took it away from his ear and punched in a number, than a few more numbers. On the third try, he walked onto the balcony and started talking into the phone.

When he came back in, he looked to Danny and said, "I think I've got someone."

Then, this morning as we were waiting for Saul, the brothers, and Rueben to show up, I heard the lock click and I looked up.

She walked in like she owned the place. From the little I can remember (still training my memory, it will become better with time, so says Danny) she was wearing dark jeans, maybe black, and a tight, white, blouse. I didn't even look at her feet. She couldn't have been older than me, and was attractive, I'll give her that. But she seemed…dangerous, somehow. Her green eyes held secrets, and even I could tell she knew things that most women wouldn't even think of. She reminded me of Isabel because of that, though I knew she was no Europol officer.

I had never heard of her before, yet she walked through the glass doors and into the upper most villa in one of Rusty's older hotels, and didn't even say anything. She just smirked, flicked her eyes around at the faces, and started walking toward me. Well, I thought she was walking toward me. Just as I was thinking of something smart to say, she turned and looked directly into the eyes of Bobby Caldwell.

"You rang?" She added a southern drawl to it, may have been natural but in this business you never knew.

He looked up to her from his place on the couch, "I was surprised to hear that you kept your number."

"I knew I should have changed it," She didn't even miss a beat. "'Course you would've gotten a hold of it eventually."

"How you living these days, Walton?"

"Actually, its Smith now," Her smirk widened as he raised an eyebrow. "I wanted to go original, for a change."

"Did you take the easy way out, or just use your charm?"

She winked and surprised me by holding up a ring-less left hand, "Little bit of both."

As she said that, he chuckled deeply and turned to the group. Basher, Livingston, and I were probably the only ones actually looking in the direction of the two (well, Livingston was messing with some electrical thing), as Rusty and Danny (more than likely listening in) were looking over plans for the entrance and Frank was in the corner talking on his cell phone.

"Everyone," He stood from the couch.

"I gotta go," Frank slammed the phone shut and looked to my father.

"I would like to introduce the solution to all of our problems: Ms. Margaret Walto—err—Smith."

"How—" He cut me off.

"You are looking at one of the best pickpockets I have ever had the pleasure to meet," She let out a chuckle at his words.

"Obviously I wasn't the best."

"Wasn't. And," He looked toward Danny. "She is also a skilled con-artist—"

"But what woul—"

"She can be our eyes on the inside."

Danny and Rusty looked toward her. Danny seemed thoughtful, and was about to ask something, when she cut him off. Strange, she must have known Bobby from some job…

"I owe him, I won't charge much, and I must admit," She smirked again, "I am pretty damn good."

Basher laughed and took a drink, "She's got my vote."

I should have known things wouldn't be the same forever.

"Yes, no, go ahead and bid 7 grand…no," Tony James spoke into his office phone. "Yes."

As he hung up the phone, his assistant walked into his office. Anna Nelson was a small woman with simple black hair and thin, blue glasses.

"Sir, the new development is going to have to be postponed because of—"

The phone rang. He answered and immediately started talking to both Ms. Nelson and the man on the phone.

"What? No, this is not happening, I want my lawyers on this… the pool must be finished before the first opening," He looked to Anna when he said the last bit and signed the document she set on his desk. "You do that, I want this finished!"

He slammed the phone down and put his face in his hands. "You know, it's sometimes difficult taking over the hotel industry."

Ms. Nelson slowly nodded and noted to bring her boss a drink when she came back.

"How about the applications? Have you read through them?"

"Yes," She rolled her eyes while he wasn't looking; sometimes she wondered what made her keep her job. "I also had a young girl hired to help me out, which I had asked you about—"

James cut her off by nodding his head and mumbling, "Yes, yes, and all is in order for the entertainment?"

"A live band will be playing at the main bar and it will be heard throughout the casino."

He shuffled through some papers, "Good."

Anna opened her mouth to say something, but the telephone rang again. She sighed again as James answered it. She set some more files in his drawer and exited the room to finish showing the red-headed Jessica Collins how to know who to call and how to fix James' schedule properly.

So, she was officially part of our 'group'. After Danny, Rusty, Bobby, and she went into the next room over, I knew I would be seeing a lot more of her. Strangely enough, I was wrong.

I guess since she would be the eyes on the inside that means I would barely see her. And, as soon as she put in the job application as Jessica Collins and was accepted into working closely with James' assistant (who knows what she did to get that close to him?), she was out of the hotel and only in contact with us through Bobby.

After almost a week, I finally saw her again, and though I hadn't spoken a word to her, for some reason I felt the need to know more about her. Of course, she would be the same arrogant person that spoke like she'd been friends with my father for ages, though she is probably my age. And she'd walk in with the same grace and perfection that most people would only dream of having all while saying a witty remark.

The average female con-artist.

A/N: Alright, I'm trying something new… and different. So far this is my first fic that's not HP related in any way, so...here it is. It is a one-shot at the moment, that may change if I think of something, but at this moment it is only a one-shot to me. Review please.