Thanks/AN

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review - y'all are awesome! I know the last chapter seemed like a filler, but it wasn't. As always, there is an overarching reason for that setup. Just like our favorite Cajun, this plot is in it for the long con. That also includes seeing a feistier Rogue. For all y'all who have been asking for her, the Southerner we all know and love still has a way to go before she completely breaks out of her shell. Just be patient and enjoy the ride because it's going to be one hellofa rollercoaster until the very end! For now, enjoy Chapter 27 and bring on the rotten produce, baby! (Did I mention how I'm delightfully wicked...)


Chapter 27

Despite what Remy thought, Jean-Luc was still very much in control of who was assigned to which guild contracts. Apparently, the stunt with the paperwork was just the tip of the iceberg, as well as his father's way of getting some long overdue revenge on his son. Rogue unfortunately happened to be an unintentional victim simply by her association as joint guildmaster. Regardless, they were both surprised to see Jean-Luc outside their suite after their mad dash to get changed.

With his hand still raised in mid-air about to knock, he focused solely on Remy, "Fils. There's a smoke tour."

Remy immediately recognized the urgency, both by the private language of the Thieves Guild and the grim look on his father's face. In the past, he hadn't hesitated when such a serious request was made. Then again, he hadn't been married and newly named guildmaster either. There was so much more on the line if he helped and bigger consequences if he failed. He knew he couldn't make the decision on his own this time.

Looking to Rogue, he silently asked for her input. It remained unsaid that they weren't going to make the birthday dinner date he'd hastily thrown together, much less the run for creole pralines.

"Go on, sug." Rogue encouraged him with a small smile, a hint of sadness touching her eyes.

Even though the thieves had been acclimating her to their way of life, there were still things they kept secret. She didn't know what a 'smoke tour' entailed, but she knew it had to be important if Jean-Luc was considering involving the patriarch. Whatever was going on, her birthday was insignificant in the grand scheme of things, even if it was the first one spent with a family who actually cared about her.

Remy searched her face, hating to further disappoint her. He was already kicking himself for not knowing today was her birthday. On top of that, the celebration he'd rushed to plan was paltry at best. Now, he was going to add further insult to injury by backing out last minute and leaving her alone for the remainder of the night. If their situations were reversed, he knew he'd be bitter and disappointed.

When he quietly asked her, "Êtes-vous sûr?" she only nodded in confirmation.

Giving her hand a gentle squeeze and placing a light kiss on her temple, Remy left her standing outside their suite and followed his father into the lower levels of the compound. It wasn't until they were in the privacy of the patriarch's office that Jean-Luc explained the details of the contract to Remy.

Taking the seat behind the desk out of habit, his father let his ire show as he said, "C'est le bordel ici! Toussaint blew-up and downed de mark."

"Pu-tain!" Remy drew out the swear under his breath. He knew it was only a matter of time before the man would get sloppy.

"Ouais, eh bien," Jean-Luc scrubbed his hands over his face as he sighed. "Needless t' say, we now have t' take a different approach. I'm sendin' in Etienne."

Remy's eyes widened in disbelief as he nearly choked. Etienne hadn't been out on a major job since his Tilling, and that was all because he'd almost died during the initiation rite. If Remy hadn't been there to save him, his younger cousin wouldn't be here today.

"Père," He started to object, but Jean-Luc raised his hand to pause him. "I know what yo' gon' say, fils, et I don't disagree wit' y'. But de situation requires someone who can fly under de radar. Blend in as an average Joe."

'Someone no one would expect of bein' a thief.' He left unsaid.

The only logical choice was Etienne. The problem was, Jean-Luc was worried the job was too big for his nephew. He trained like any other master thief, but very little of his field experience was spent on anything more than minor star pinches. After the trauma of his Tilling, he grew up almost painfully introverted. The characteristic led him to be hesitant at times, which could be a liability on a job.

"Why even go through wit' de contract then?" Remy asked. "It's not like we ain't backed out of one when things were un peu mal-pris."

Jean-Luc simply shook his head. "De whole guild is un peu mal-pris. Wit' de Unification, we're under even more scrutiny than ever before t' prove nothin's changed. That we can still deliver quality services t' our clientele."

Catching on to his father's drift, Remy realized this was just another situation where the guild was using its token Le Diable Blanc card to save its reputation.

Irritated that he wasn't being called in simply to support his cousin, he suspiciously said, "Y' want me t' go wit' him. Make sure everythin' goes smooth."

His father just steepled his fingers and appraised his son. He had thought Remy had gotten over the petulance about being guildmaster and looking out for the good of the guild. The last week had actually been a surprise to Jean-Luc that his son only really complained about the early mornings and long days rather than the amount and type of work that needed to be done. Taking a closer look, maybe it was Rogue's influence on Remy that had enacted the change and not a natural progression into accepting responsibility simply from being named guildmaster.

Nodding his head once in acknowledgement of Remy's assessment, Jean-Luc said, "Y' have t' lay low this time. Not only does de situation call fo' de mark t' interact only wit' Etienne, y' can't put yo'self at unnecessary risk anymore."

He was of course referring to the fact that guildmasters very rarely took contracts for the obvious reasons. Being out in the field made it easier for enemies to pick off the figurehead of the guild and leave them leaderless. And since so much of the Unification's peace rested on his and Rogue's combined shoulders, losing Remy would call into question whether an assassin plot had been in the works all along. That kind of distrust would lead to the destruction of both guilds.

Remy suddenly changed the subject, asking, "Did y' know t'day is Rogue's birthday?"

"Oui." Jean-Luc didn't elaborate, instead trying to figure out the turn in the conversation.

"Did y' plan anythin' or get her somethin'?" Remy prodded.

"Non." He answered.

Not satisfied with his father's one word responses, Remy caustically said, "Mais, de rest of de famille did."

A heavy sigh escaped Jean-Luc's lips as he quickly grew agitated with the line of questioning and diversion from guild business.

Leaning back in the chair, he said, "Rogue let it slip t' yo' cousins durin' Russo's birthday. Mais, yo' femme knows our famille well. She made Emil promise t' keep things quiet. Etienne was there and heard de whole thing, so they only told Mercy and Henri."

Confusion and irritation warred in Remy's head. He was more than a little indignant over the situation. Wasn't anyone going to clue him in? It didn't even cross his mind that they all assumed he would know his own wife's birthday.

The former won out as he asked, "How did y' find out then?"

Jean-Luc simply raised an eyebrow and said, "Unlike you, I paid attention t' de paperwork Marius presented de day y' deux were married."

Remy had the good sense to be embarrassed over his behavior from the wedding and it showed in the slight pinking on the tops of his ears and cheeks. Still, he pressed forward as he asked for confirmation, "Mais¸y' didn't get her anythin'?"

"Non." Jean-Luc reiterated. "I didn't get her anythin' because she didn't want a fuss made over it."

Getting the answer that he wanted from his father and remembering what he was sacrificing tonight, Remy decided to push his luck.

Flipping back to the matter of the cleanup job, Remy said, "Bien. I'll go wit' Etienne and protect de guild's reputation. Mais, y' owe me and Rogue a week's vacation when I get back."

The oscillation between business and personal topics nearly left Jean-Luc with whiplash. Still, he was able to keep up with the breakneck speed and burst out laughing. "Guildmasters don't take vacations."

Thinking quick on his feet, Remy bargained, "Peut être, mais we never got a honeymoon."

Even when they thought his bride would be Bella Donna, there had been no honeymoon planned. It was one of Marius stipulations: they had to stay at the LeBeau manner. Now that the Unification was complete, there was no reason why they couldn't take some time away. The peace would hold while they were gone.

"Une nuit." Jean-Luc countered, coming to the same conclusion Remy had. Still, he wasn't about to let them go for more than 24 hours.

His son narrowed his eyes as he said, "Cinq jours."

"Troi." Jean-Luc leaned forward, quickly pointing his finger as he added, "Et that's my final offer."

Three days was better than none and it would give Remy a longer opportunity to make up for missing Rogue's birthday. "C'est une affaire. Mais, I'm doin' de job fo' Et. Another time, another place, it can be fo' de guild. But this time it's for him."

"D'accord." Jean-Luc really didn't care what Remy's reasons were, so long as he agreed to go. Leaning forward, he sent the signal that would bring his nephew down for briefing. "Y' leave as soon as we prep Etienne."

(X)-(X)-(X)

Four days had passed and there'd been no word.

"Père?" Rogue uneasily asked, chewing her lip.

She still wasn't used to calling Jean-Luc by that name, even after all these months living with the thieves. But she needed his guidance and was nervous about asking for it.

"Hn?" He mumbled, distracted by the paperwork in front of him. His forehead rested in the purlicue of his right hand while his left held up the top sheets of the stapled stack.

As she waited for him to look up, she started wringing her fingers together. Worry had been floating through her head for the last four days, ever since Etienne and Remy had left to cleanup Toussaint's mess. At first, Rogue tried to distract herself by continuing to learn her new responsibilities. Jean-Luc had gladly welcomed her presence in the patriarch's office and together, they had fallen into a comfortable, quiet routine. While he reviewed current business at the desk, she curled up on the Chesterfield sofa and poured over the last year's records.

As the days progressed, the mild concern she'd been ignoring turned into a maelstrom of anxiety. Now it was so strong that reading the words on the page had become and impossible swirled mass of black and white markings. Rogue finally admitted to herself that she needed a confidant and not just any sympathetic ear, but one that ultimately had the power to help her.

When he didn't look up, she softly padded over to the desk and sat in one of the matching club chairs. She flattened her bare feet on the firm leather and rested her chin on her updrawn knees, her arms wrapped protectively around her legs. A deep contemplation took over her mind, casting a hollow, unseeing glaze in her eyes.

Sensing the movement, Jean-Luc flicked his eyes up to her face but retained his hunched over posture. A quick assessment and he realized she was lost in her own thoughts.

"Petite?" He gently called but didn't receive a response. With a soft sigh, he straightened, put the papers aside, and leaned back in his chair. In a louder voice, he asked, "À quoi tu penses?"

Rogue blinked once and, finding her eyes dry from staring, continued in quick succession as she gently shook her head. Focusing on Jean-Luc's face, she found she could only look him in the eye for a second before she dropped her gaze to the soft knit covering her knees.

Her fingernails flicked over imaginary lint as she gathered the strength to convey her concerns. Clenching her jaw, she decided it was best just to push forward. All the same, she started with the lesser of her two worries.

"D'ya think Remy and Etienne are okay?" She asked, not looking up from her knees.

A wide grin stretched across Jean-Luc's face, his heart warmed by his daughter-in-law's concern over his son and nephew.

In a soothing tone, he assured her, "Ils vont bien. They're just keepin' a low profile. They'll check in when necessary."

Mimicking his earlier gesture, she flicked her eyes up to his for a second before dropping back down to her knees. His soft, gentle smile did little to help assuage her fears.

In fact, his next statement only spiked her heartrate. "De closest analogy I have is de assassin's sub rosa."

Rogue's gaze darted to his, trying to determine if he was just imparting knowledge or fishing for information. There was a sharpness in his look, but nothing that wasn't always present in his cunning eyes. If he knew about the sub rosa she'd requested from Marius months ago, then Jean-Luc wasn't letting on.

Regardless, it was a perfect opening to her bigger concern. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she reopened them, she chose a spot on the bookshelf behind her father-in-law instead of looking directly into his face.

"Ah, um…" She started but the words stuck in her throat. Pausing and trying again, she said, "Ah did somethin' bad and Ah'm afraid of what might happen now."

Intrigue quirked Jean-Luc's brow. However, just like every other time he tried to get a read on his daughter-in-law, all he could pick up was that she was hiding something just below the surface.

"Why don't y' start wit' tellin' me what y' did and then we'll talk 'bout de consequence, hein?" He politely but firmly pressed.

Rogue refocused from the random spot on the bookcase to Jean-Luc's face. They stared at each other before she finally admitted, "Ah hit Marius in the head the night of the Cotillion."

Misunderstanding her confession, he just waved it off and returned to his paperwork. "Mistakes happen, petite. No need t' fret over it."

"No, ya don't understand." Her eyes widened as she tried to impress the seriousness of her actions. "It wasn't for show and it wasn't an accident. Ah smacked him upside the head. On purpose. Only hard enough ta give him a really bad headache, but he promised ta make me pay for it."

Jean-Luc's first instinct was to laugh out loud at his old nemesis taking a blow for once. That was, until the ramifications ran through his mind a split second later. Discarding the stack of papers, he stared at her with narrowed as his expression grew hard, cold.

When her father-in-law didn't verbally respond, she nervously rambled, "Ah think it's why he hasn't arranged ta transition any of the assassin work."

To herself, she added, 'Not that he ever had any intention to anyway.'

"What were y' thinkin', fille? "Jean-Luc's harsh tone accused more than asked. "Y' put yo'self at risk, y' put ma famille at risk, over what, hn? Some petty disagreement y' have wit' yo' père? Stupide!"

Fat tears welled in her eyes when his tirade started but dropped onto her cheeks when she flinched at the befitting epithet. Rogue had never cried when Marius chastised her. In fact, she'd taken the opposite approach. Cold, calculating, distant. But the same accusation and disappointment coming from Jean-Luc garnered shame and guilt in her now.

"Ah'm sorry!" She cried, her unbidden revelation continuing before she really thought about the words coming out of her mouth. "Ah didn't know what else ta do after he and Julien attacked me!"

"Wait, what?" Holding up his hands to stop her, he blinked and cocked his head to the side as if he hadn't heard her correctly. "Marius and Julien attacked y'? When? Where?"

Wincing as if he'd physically slapped her, Rogue realized she would have to explain the whole thing. After a quick summary, she pulled down the high neck of her shirt to reveal the now sickly yellow and brown marks on her throat.

Jean-Luc's hard glare grew unfocused as he mumbled to himself, "Dans ma maison. Sous mon toit."

Unconsciously, his hand balled into a fist and he slammed it down on the desk. The sudden pounding made Rogue jump in her seat and she started rambling again.

"Remy wanted ta exile 'em right away, but Ah begged him not ta. It'll only make things worse." She said as she straightened her shirt and curled even further into her knees. Her muffled words were barely audible as she added, "Ah'm so sorry. Ah've done nothin' but bring trouble ta yer family. Ah am stupid."

It was Jean-Luc's turn to flinch at her reiteration of his earlier reproach. He hadn't meant that Rogue was stupid, but rather that her poor decisions were. Now that he had the whole story, the young woman sobbing before him was nothing more than a lost little girl tugging at his heartstrings. The feeling wasn't much different from the one he'd had years ago when a little pickpocket nabbed his wallet.

Rising, he walked around the desk and dropped down to his knees in front of the chair. He rested his larger hands on top of hers as he tugged her arms loose. Once she peaked up at him, he tilted her chin higher to force her to look into his eyes.

"Premier, youare not…stupid." He slowly emphasized as his gaze darted across her face. "Et seconde, you are this famille now. And in this famille, we protect our own. All of our own. Comprendre?"

He waited until she tentatively nodded.

"We all make bad judgement calls from time t' time, fille. Mais, we'll get through this t'gether."

"Ah can't go back there." Rogue's voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke about the Assassins' headquarters. "Ah'm afraid of what they'll do."

Jean-Luc tutted as he pulled her into a hug. "It's okay, petite. Y' don't have t'."

Rogue gladly melted into the embrace, her head tucking neatly under his chin as his strong arms wrapped around her shoulders. Using his palms, Jean-Luc rubbed soothing circles on her back. In that moment, she finally realized that he was the father she'd never had and not just the father-in-law she wasn't supposed to keep. Raw and vulnerable from the last half hour's conversation, she made one more confession.

"Ya can't let Remy go over there either. Marius will kill him." While not entirely the truth, it was freeing to finally acknowledge part of the truth about her adoptive father's plot.

With a monumental effort, Jean-Luc remained loose, relaxed as he continued comforting her. For Rogue, the moment may have been cathartic, but it only ratcheted up his anxiety. They all would have to be extra vigilant now. The compound's security would have to be beefed up. The most trusted thieves would have to keep a closer eye on the more questionable guild members. And neither his son nor his daughter-in-law could take another contract for the foreseeable future.

While all of this tactical planning went on his mind, Jean-Luc squeezed Rogue tighter and gently said, "We'll figure it out t'gether. That's what famille does."

(X)-(X)-(X)

Etienne and Remy had been in Atlantic City for a week now. Much longer than what the new patriarch had thought it would take for a simple whip off. Toussaint really had made a mess of things and it took several days canvasing and preparation to clean it up enough to introduce Etienne into the mix. The problem was, the mark was a slippery bastard.

Giacomo "Big G" Ventimiglia, was a wannabe mob boss. He had just enough savvy to amass quite a little fortune, but in the end was no more than a little fish in a big pond. The speak Remy and Etienne had been contracted to steal was really outside of Big G's league. The man had stumbled upon the device months ago and, being the discerning 'businessman' that he was, decided to capitalize on the opportunity the careless owner had exposed.

While Ventimiglia didn't have a big organization, he did have enough loyal flunkies that he could easily slime away from any attempts to tail him. It made Remy initially question whether he had downed them too, but he quickly dismissed the thought after observing that the man was just exceptionally lucky. Once he had identified the trigger the man used, Remy figured out it was only a matter of misdirection. When Big G had had enough of a situation, he sent in one of two regular enforcers to distract everyone while he and the other enforcer simply walked away. Simplistic, but effective.

"Rappelles toi, y' don't know me and I don't know y'." Remy reminded Etienne for the hundredth time as he straightened his cousin's jacket and gave the expensive suit a once over. "Don't even acknowledge that I'm in de same buildin' as y'. Just know I've got yo' back if anythin' goes wrong."

Tonight was the first break they'd gotten where Etienne could ease into Big G's graces. Unfortunately, it was going to be at an exclusive gentleman's club that the mob boss frequented. If they went in together, it would raise too many suspicions. So after some slick swindling, they had managed to secure a trial membership to the invitation-only club for Etienne. That gave them the cover story that he was local to the area. Meanwhile, Remy would be going in separately as an out-of-town business associate of one of the permanent members.

Frustrated with his cousin's fussing, Etienne pushed away. "Je connais, je connais! This ain't my first whip off, Remy."

It was true. Because of his nearly failed Tilling, the best Etienne had been assigned for solo work was small jobs that normally went to the errifs. The difference usually came when the speak was more valuable than what was entrusted to untested guildmembers.

"Bien! I'll see y' there in a half hour." Remy relented, holding up his hands in surrender.

Checking his own appearance, he grabbed the keys to the rental they'd gotten specifically for tonight and headed out the door. The drive over to the club took less than ten minutes but under the alias Marty Arnold, Remy drove around the block a couple of times before pulling up to the valet station as if he'd gotten lost looking for the location.

In perfect nonregional diction, he said, "You folks are really serious about keeping things low-key, huh?"

Looking up at the building's plain off-white façade, he saw it had no markings indicating it was a club or otherwise. All of the windows looked like generic, albeit blacked out, business offices. Only the valet station and front entrance tipped off passersby that the building possibly housed something other than what it appeared.

Without missing a beat, the bouncer stepped forward before the valet would take the keys from Remy.
"Sir, this is a private club. I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Oh, I'm supposed to be here. At least, I think this is the location my business associate Tony told me." Remy gave a nervous smile as pushed a pair of fake glasses further up his nose and read an email on his burner phone. "2303 Pacific Avenue. Tell them your name and that Anthony Demarco is your host. I'm Martin Arnold, by the way. Marty, just in case Tony listed me under my nickname."

His nervous rambling was all part of the game. Distract them with nonsense details and they wouldn't notice the things that made him stand out. Of course, he'd also done everything he could to look as 'average Joe' as possible, including wearing special contact lenses that disguised his unique eyes into a very human and uninteresting brown. He held out his hand to shake as an introduction, but the bouncer only looked at him.

"Just one moment, sir." The muscular bouncer replied and quietly spoke into his headset. A second later he nodded to the valet and said to Remy, "Right this way, Mr. Arnold. The VIP lounge is on the second floor."

Entering the darkened first floor, Remy briefly took in the stage and DJ booth to his right and the bar to his left. Making note of the emergency exits, he assessed the rest of the club with a thief's eye for threats and weaknesses. As he quickly took in the finer details with a fleeting glance, he realized there was a clear membership echelon even within this private club. The patrons on this floor were white-collar workers with six figure salaries, but clearly unable to afford the pricier VIP level even with their fancy Rolexes flashing in the strobing lights. And the exotic dancers on the stage and mingling in the crowd were attractive but weren't anything someone didn't see on the beach in the summer.

As he approached the wide staircase leading to the VIP floor, a second bouncer nodded in greeting to him and unhooked the velvet rope blocking off the entrance. Quickly climbing the steps, he found exactly what he would have expected from a private gentleman's club. Instead of the open floor plan downstairs, the perimeter of the upstairs was filled with numbered booths, darkened for private dances.

While he knew which booth belonged to Big G, the shadows provided cover for whomever may have been sitting there. A small central stage was setup in the middle of the room, but it was clear these dancers hadn't worked their way into servicing the high-end clientele yet. A small bar used solely for filling drink orders was off to one side and an open archway leading to individual champagne rooms was on the opposite side.

Finding the real Tony Demarco's booth, Remy slid onto the plush leather bench seat and observed the room. He hadn't even been there a minute before a voluptuous redhead approached the small alcove. With the practiced steps of a regular routine, she flaunted her black lace corset ensemble to its best advantage. Sliding onto the seat and cuddling into Remy's side, she let her crossed leg invade his personal space and practically brushed against his groin. She enticed him to touch the thigh-high stockings by smoothing her fingers back and forth over the sheer silk. As the long, thin digits barely brushed his leg, a purely instinctual twitch of his dick tightened his slacks.

"I'm Vivienne. What'll it be, handsome?" She purred in his ear, her free hand playing with his neatly groomed hair.

"Oh, um," The cough that followed wasn't entirely put on for show. "An Old Fashioned. And can you make it with Redbreast?"

Vivienne threw her head back, her long, tousled hair brushing his arm as a husky laugh seductively vibrated across her lean throat. She moved the hand caressing her leg over to his muscular quad, massaging small circles closer and closer to his inner thigh.

With a tilt of her head to some unknown source, she ordered his drink and said, "I think we have something you might like better. Would you like to see the fare?"

"No thanks. Just the drink. I ate before I got here." Remy cleared his throat, unused to feeling awkward in situations like this. In fact, he was usually the charmer instead of the one being charmed.

Vivienne laughed again, though not as deep and smoky. Instead, she ran her nails through his hair and across his scalp in a soothing movement as she whispered, "We don't serve food here."

It was a fact that he knew going into the setup. The menu here entailed every possible sex act that members were willing to pay to enjoy. Even though prostitution was illegal in Atlantic City, the club's private operation included paying off the right local officials. And the exclusivity and high prices ensured the beautiful women were thoroughly vetted and kept in peak health. Still, he wasn't prepared for the blatant offer he received immediately after arriving.

Remy cleared the pretend confusion from his expression as he said, "Oh, I'm married," and flashed the plain gold band on his left hand. He'd swapped out his more unique wedding ring as another detail that was too identifiable.

"Men who come here don't care about the wives they leave at home." Vivienne answered as she swiftly slid her leg fully over his lap and straddled him.

He could feel the moist heat emanating from her scantily clad center as she slowly writhed on his growing erection. Grinding his teeth, he tried to focus on anything other than the smooth curves of the woman currently pressing her cleavage into his face. As she grabbed both of his hands in hers and planted his palms firmly on her shoulders, she guided him across the trim landscape of her body. The action served as a bucket of cold water and helped him gain control over his body's natural reactions. She just didn't feel right to him.

While Vivienne was fit with a slight curve in all the right places, she was soft. Not at all the toned musculature he'd come to desire. Her arms were thin and angular instead of firm strength. The swell of her breasts was enhanced by the push-up of the corset and couldn't compare to a naturally full weight. While smooth and flat, her stomach was a lean plain but not a defined set of abs. Her shapely hips and thighs were the result of not eating versus regular athletic training. There was no part of her body where the smooth skin stretched over taut muscles.

In short, she wasn't Rogue.

"I'm just here on business." He said, his mind clearing even more when he spied Etienne out of the corner of his eye. His cousin moved into the booth they'd previously identified as Big G's.

Remy tried to disengage from Vivienne, but she drew his attention back to her as she said, "Pleasure is business," and crashed her lips against his.

What she was offering was so very tempting. He was away on a contract and no one would be the wiser, except maybe Etienne if he was watching him instead of doing his job. Other than the two times Remy had been with Rogue, he hadn't engaged in the carnal act for more than seven months. And this would just be sex, no strings attached, no emotions involved. Simply a release of pent up, frustrated energy.

The impromptu make out session continued to gain intensity as he silently debated whether to give in. Vivienne's breasts fell out of her corset as she undid the top few hooks. Her hardened nipples grazed his chest through the fine Egyptian cotton of his dress shirt. She grabbed his hands and placed them on her hips before setting a steady rhythm grinding on his crotch. A groan rumbled deep in his chest when her fingers unzipped his fly and slid into his pants.

His foggy brain barely registered that Big G had emerged from his booth along with Etienne. Three blondes accompanied the men as they headed toward the champagne rooms. His mind was made up when Vivienne slid her slick core over the exposed flesh of his member. If nothing else, he needed to be back in the exclusive area to help his cousin if called.

Breaking the kiss, he asked, "Is there someplace we can go that's more private?"

"Of course." Vivienne cooed, satisfied that she had captured the fly in her web. "But there's a $10,000 cover and everything is à la carte."

Pulling his wallet out of his jacket's inner pocket, Remy flashed a phony American Express Centurion card with Martin Arnold's name emblazoned in titanium. The black card was designed to get a positive authorization but could never be settled against since it was an untraceable, dead end forgery. Simply the appearance of the exclusive credit card left most people dazzled beyond common sense. And from the sparkle in Vivienne's eyes, he could tell she was no different.

"Right this way, Mr. Arnold." She stood and led him by the hand to the secluded hallway.

They rounded the corner of the entryway as Etienne followed Big G and the three blondes into the third door on the left. Vivienne took Remy to the second door on the right, close enough to his cousin that he was satisfied he'd be able to back him up if anything went wrong. At the last second before either man entered his specified room, Etienne caught Remy's eye and raised his brow in indignation. The older cousin simply ignored the look and followed his redheaded temptress.

(X)

smoke tour – (Canting noun/variation of the verb) smoke - to have suspicions that a job has been compromised or made common knowledge and tour - to be a sharp lookout/be on guard during a job

Êtes-vous sûr? – Are you sure?

C'est le bordel ici! – What a fucking mess!

blow-up – (Canting verb)to discover the thief mid-job and the confusion that arises from discovery

down – (Canting verb) when a mark suspects the thief's intention to steal from him

star pinch – (Canting variation of the verb/noun) star the glaze – to break into or rob a jeweler's display case and pinch – to steal items from jewelers all while pretending to be purchasing something.

un peu mal-pris – (Cajun) a little badly taken/in a bad situation

Peut être, mais – Maybe, but

C'est une affaire. – It's a deal.

À quoi tu penses? – What are you thinking about?

Ils vont bien. – They're fine.

Dans ma maison. Sous mon toit. – In my house. Under my roof.

Comprendre? – Understand?

whip off – (Canting noun/variation of the verb) to snatch and run away

speak – (Canting noun) anything being stolen

Rappelles toi, – Remember,

Je connais, je connais! – I know, I know!

errif – (Canting noun) thieves just beginning to practice or recently initiated