“It’s a job. S’got nothing to do with me.” He was deflecting. His sea-blue eyes met yours, he couldn’t help the slight smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. You still looked good, real good.

He hadn’t seen you in—what?—five years? It had been a while. The two of you used to be damn near inseparable. It was young love, lust, fun. Working together all day to pull in jobs and doing other things together at night. But it fizzled out, as did most of Rusty’s relationships.

It was dark outside and under any other circumstance it would seem bizarre that your long time fling showed up to your house uninvited. That’s why Rusty came with an excuse. “C’mon think about it. We have a crew so it’s not like it’s just gonna be me and you, and you’ll get a nice hefty cut for your troubles.” His hand moved to your waist, the smirk never leaving his face. He knew the touch wouldn’t do anything to sell you on this though. You we’re still a hardass.

You had a nice apartment, sleek, clean. You were obviously living off of the millions you had accumulated off of jobs. He wondered if you still did them or doing some kind of young retirement sort of thing.

As soon as the robbery plans started Rusty knew you were the only one for the job; your brains, wit, stealth. Hell, he was half sure if you were on the crew there’d be no need for most of them to even be there. He didn’t want to beg, but if push came to shove, you’re the only person he’d even think of doing it for.

The Vegas heat did little to calm the feeling inside him as you gave him that glare. Yeah, maybe the relationship didn’t fizzle out…maybe it ended cause you caught him with another woman. But the past was the past. In the present he continued to think that glare was stupidly sexy.

Just one more job. Just one more heist. You. Him. The crew. And robbing Bellagio, Mirage, and MGM Grand.