Author's note: I was in two minds about drawing attention to it, but I just want to be very clear that I've reported the vile spam in the reviews for this story. If I could do anything else to get rid of it, I would. If there isn't action by moderators in a reasonable time period, I'll delete the story and repost as, as far as I can tell, I've just been unlucky to have updated when I did - the account in question appears to have spam-posted the same thing across multiple fandoms at random.

In the meantime, if you're reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts instead of the hate!

2.

Three months had passed since Wes Winters had been laid to rest and life had, inevitably, continued on without him. And while Albert had no doubt been shaken by the loss of his old friend, it seemed he had bounced back by simply throwing himself into living each moment to the fullest. No fewer than three marks had already crossed paths with the crew, all expertly roped by the veteran grifter. None of them had in themselves provided a big payday, but they couldn't exactly complain about easy money and the coffers were certainly looking much healthier than they had of late anyway.

Besides, a fourth target was now in their sights – another one who seemed just the right mix of greedy and sleazy to make the prospect of ridding him of thousands a downright pleasure.

Almost too easy, Ash thought to himself as he eyed the mark across the crowded bar. There was no real need for discretion on his part for once - he'd blagged himself a security job in the busy bar they'd decided was ideally suited to their plans and could move around at will, hiding in plain sight. Not that the others were exactly keeping a low profile either. This was, after all, where they thrived - inserting themselves, chameleon style, into the worlds of their marks so convincingly they could afford to be bold.

There was Mickey, suited and booted and holding court with the city boys as they blustered and bragged, each probably trying to outdo the others so he could feel better about himself. By the bar, Stacie kept a cool watchful eye as she sipped her cocktail with her usual grace, and Danny… Where was Danny?

Ash frowned for a second, scanning the bar before rolling his eyes as he sighted the errant member of their crew caught up in admiring the singer on stage.

"Bleedin' typical," he muttered, though not really overly put out. It was Danny after all and the redhead he was ogling was, to be fair, a little stunner with a cracking set of pipes. Besides, their self-designated ladies' man did admittedly have a knack for shifting focus back from any distractions in a split second when he had to.

Sure enough, they seemed to clock their mark making his entrance at exactly the same moment, the entertainment all but forgotten in an instant.

"Showtime," Ash grinned, but only to himself, squaring his shoulders in preparation and reaching into his trouser pocket to brush his fingers over the small wrap of coke just ripe to be planted.

But even as he started to head from his position, feigning a conversation with unseen sources with a touch of his hand to the earpiece that actually let him communicate if necessary with Mickey, it was his turn to be distracted by a commotion near the stage. It seemed the singer had attracted more than one admirer, only this one was more persistent than Danny and definitely drunker.

Having apparently finished her set, the singer seemed to be doing a decent job of ignoring the lewd catcalls being thrown her way as she packed up her guitar and headed without a second glance for the door marked "private" and "staff only".

With the baffled, yet offended look of a man who'd never been told no, her unwanted admirer swayed where he was for a second and then, with a sly check behind him, lurched after her.

"Ah shit," Ash muttered, realising he appeared to be the only one paying attention and technically he was supposed to be security…

"Problem?" came Mickey's voice in his ear, calm and quiet, but with a sharp edge that told him his delay in giving the signal to put their plan into action had already been noted.

Sure enough, Stacie was also glancing his way, a question in one elegantly raised eyebrow, while Danny was fidgeting as was his wont when he got impatient. Which was often.

Mind made up, Ash strode towards the door. "Problem," he confirmed grimly.

Acutely aware he'd just thrown their own plans into chaos, Ash pushed his way through the door and into the dark, narrow corridor beyond. He couldn't in good conscience just leave it. He knew all too well what entitled pricks were capable of when they wanted something, he'd had dealings with enough of them over the years.

He wasn't particularly worried for himself either. Between serving time and having to be prepared for whatever trouble a grift might land them in, he knew he could handle himself. The civilian caught up in the middle of all this though, through no fault of her own – other than having the nerve to be an attractive woman in a public place – she didn't deserve this kind of hassle.

Various sets of stairs and doors led off the corridor, but muffled grunts and sounds of a struggle drew his attention to the fire escape at the far end and he hurried towards it. Taking a second to inwardly debate the pros and cons of stealth or force as an approach, he made his decision and sent the door crashing back on its hinges, barging through it only to nearly trip over a writhing figure on the ground.

The singer's drunken would-be suitor was rolling around in apparent agony, trying to clutch both his face and groin and howling something indecipherable about his eyes, while she stood over him, her hair askew in a way that could only mean one thing, trembling but clearly furious.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you no means no?" she raged, trying to get her breath back, before sparing a fleeting glance towards the newcomer on the scene. "Oh good, security at last!"

"She assaulted me!" the man on the ground wailed, his words shrill with outrage yet obviously slurring. "My eyes – help me, I'm blind!"

"Should have thought of that before you got handsy then, shouldn't you, you complete arsehole?" she shot back.

Staring at her as he saw past the wig for the first time, Ash's eyes narrowed, then widened in surprise.

"You!"

That got her attention and she looked at him properly for the first time, something that seemed like a complicated mix of shock and relief crossing her face. "Oh my god, Ash!"

Skylar Winters.

Ash floundered for something to say. "Didn't know you could sing."

At that moment though, the third wheel to their unexpected encounter seemed to suddenly find his second wind and lurched to his feet, his face flushed and eyes already enflamed. He staggered towards the now former object of his unwanted attention, his feelings having clearly soured in the last few minutes. But even as he made a grab for her, the snarl died on his lips when he found himself slammed back against the rough brickwork of the alleyway.

The "oof" as the wind was knocked out of him morphed into a whine over the thud of the back of his head against the unforgiving wall. It trailed off when the arm across his throat pinned him a little tighter and a stern glare met his watery, stinging eyes.

"Between you and me, son, you wanna count yourself lucky," Ash growled. "She shoulda kicked your balls into your throat.'

"I did try," she interjected.

Fair enough.

It turned out there wasn't much time to worry about what to do with the sorry sight before him. Approaching heavy footsteps and shouts demanding to know who was out of bounds sent Ash's brain into overdrive. Pretending to be a bouncer was one thing, having that hold up in the course of dealing with the fallout of an entirely real civilian drama was another. The fewer questions directed his way the better as far as he was concerned. Especially as the actual head of security was a real hard ass who wouldn't exactly take kindly to having had the wool pulled over his eyes.

He wasn't sure he had enough faith in justice to trust that this would play out as it should though. Guys like that tended to talk a good game, or at least be connected enough to wriggle off the hook. Besides, he had questions himself now.

"Time to go," he said decisively, letting the drunk slump to the ground and grabbing Skylar's hand to hurry down the cobbled alley, conscious he was making her keep up the pace in a skintight dress and impractical stilettos. He didn't slow though, choosing a route on instinct that took them round corners and down dark side streets, tugging free the earpiece as they went and fishing for his mobile phone instead.

"Mick? Yeah, sorry, mate – something came up," he said, his call having been answered on the second ring. "Couldn't be helped. I'll explain back at base. Yeah, yeah, later."

"You were on a job…" Skylar said, no question in her voice, only apology.

"Don't worry about that," Ash shrugged, nodding in his intended direction as he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, a plan formulating on the fly. "Casual now."

He had to admit he was quietly impressed at how quickly she caught on, straightening her hair as they slowed to a stroll and slipping an arm through his as if they were any other couple returning to the swanky hotel ahead from a night out. Commandeering someone else's privately booked car with nothing but front and confidence was a piece of piss, all things considered, and he grinned as he held open the rear passenger door to let her slip across the luxurious backseat, making room for him to follow.

"Not here," he said, putting any explanations as to how they'd found themselves in this position on ice and giving the waiting driver an address just around the corner from the building where the crew had set up their latest home before sinking back against the leather.

He had more than enough experience at dealing with the unexpected to avoid flinching at the hand on his knee, but he did give her a questioning look that only brought her closer to his side.

"Too much, we leave an impression," Skylar whispered in his ear, apparently – given the coy glance at the driver in his rear view mirror – under the guise of familiar intimacy. "Too little, he remembers the couple with trouble in paradise."

Ash smiled and shook his head as if indulging his companion, shifting to drape an arm around her shoulders. "You sure you ain't a grifter?" he murmured into her hair.

"Here, get that down ya."

With Skylar settled on the couch in the crew's plush penthouse apartment, her heels kicked off and the wig discarded on the coffee table, her own blonde hair freed if somewhat rumpled, Ash handed her a steaming mug of tea and then, after a second's deliberation, chose the armchair.

The blunt red bob had been sexy, but he decided he preferred her own look, before wondering where the hell that thought had come from. Must be spending too much time around Danny. That was probably it.

"So," he said finally. "I gotta ask, what's with the get-up?"

"It's not a con, if that's what you're thinking," she said, with a small smile. "I guess it's just… a stage thing, you know?"

"This is what you do then? Sing? I mean, you're good. Too bloody good to be knocking about bars."

"What can I say? Think I missed my big shot," she said wryly.

"Sounds like there's a story there."

"Long story. Well, not that long, I guess. I thought music was going to be my life," she sighed. "Singing lessons as a kid, piano too, taught myself guitar. Mum and dad didn't mind when they thought it was… a hobby, a phase. Something to put on the university applications. Applications for something more… dependable. Law, accountancy. Anything other than music."

"But you followed your dream," Ash smiled, only to be cut short in envisioning her younger, idealistic self, all ambition and creativity and determination.

"Nope," she corrected. "Gave in under the pressure. Couldn't stand disappoint them. Went to law school…"

"Hold on, law school?" Ash echoed. He was hard to shock, but that had thrown even him.

"I get the irony now," Skylar said. "Back then, I didn't know about dad. Trust me, I feel pretty stupid not to have seen it. I don't even know what I thought he did. Just… business, I guess. But he kept the grifter side of his life completely separate."

"Some do," Ash nodded, "Tough way to live though."

"I was already at uni when I found out. Didn't take it well – I suppose I felt humiliated, studying to be a lawyer and it turns out my own dad's a conman. I nearly dropped out. Didn't want to take a penny from him knowing how he'd earned it…" she trailed off, obviously pained by the memory, but shaking it off. "Anyway, I ended up kinda doubling down, all the more determined to not follow in his footsteps. So you are looking at a fully qualified solicitor, believe it or not. And me and dad patched things up eventually, learned to live with our differences. The rumours I could handle. But when he got sent down for murder… Turns out that's a step too far for the kind of ties clients want for their legal representation."

"Shit, sorry," Ash sympathised. "That's rough. Ain't like you're responsible for your dad."

She shrugged, taking a long sip of her tea, her hands wrapped around the mug. "That's why I went back to the only other thing I know how to do. Even thought I was getting somewhere – had a manager, cut an EP… Didn't work out though. Enough of my sob stories though. What did I get in the way of tonight? Anything exciting?"

Ash knew when he was being fobbed off and suspected there was much more to the semi-failed music career story that Skylar was letting on, but after the night she'd had, he was tactful enough to let it slide.

"Ah, nothing we can't salvage for another day," he said easily. "Besides, was hardly your fault. Seemed like you had it under control anyway. Proper laid that prick out. Bet you didn't learn that in law school."

"You'd be surprised."

"So lemme get this straight, you blew our whole operation to rescue a damsel in distress who didn't even really need rescuing? Ash, me old son, tell me she was at least fit," Danny sighed, ignoring the disapproving looks he was getting from both Stacie and Albert.

"Look, I'll hold me hands up," Ash explained to the collected crew. "Maybe I should have kept my nose out and yeah, she probably had it handled, but what's done is done. And it turned out to be Skylar, so I'm just glad it didn't get any messier than it already was - she's been through enough."

"Skylar?" Albert noted in concern. "Poor girl. And you're sure she's ok?"

"Bit more shook up than she was ever going to admit, I think, but she'll be ok," Ash said, just a little distracted as he picked up his suit jacket and rummaged through the pockets. "We can make the same set-up work again – we just need a different bar the mark…"

"Ash, something wrong?" Mickey asked.

"Uh, no, nothing," he covered. "Just thinking ahead. I'll sound out options since I blew tonight."

"Okay," their leader nodded slowly, not quite looking convinced. "I'll leave it with you."

Retrieving his pack of cigarettes and a lighter, Ash excused himself and stepped out onto the balcony, lighting up and taking a deep drag before tilting his head back with a groan as he stared unseeingly up at the star-filled sky. Shit.

He'd definitely had it in the bar, right trouser pocket for ease of slight of hand, but switched to left jacket pocket as he'd changed course and headed for that door. Couldn't risk it falling out at an in opportune moment. But now, that tiny wrap of coke with a key role in their con was definitely gone.

In itself, it was no big deal. A replaceable means to an end. But only one other person had easy access to his jacket since then and therein lay the problem.

Skylar.