Cesare was posted up behind one of the well-lit clubs on the Strip. The moon competed for dominance in the sky amidst the flashing neon splendor of Vegas. Cesare's face illuminated softly from the fanning flame of the cigarette in his mouth as he leaned against the building. Another day, another shakedown for the crew. Today he had Thomas and Paul with him for the taxi hit. Thomas was a 'street kid' who liked to pal around with wise-guys because it made him feel tough. He'd be a shadow and do what was asked of him and the guys would toss him a bill or two that he'd use to show one of his school girlfriends a good time. He couldn't be more than 17 years old. Paul was a lifelong associate of a small Italian outfit in Summerlin. As an Irishman, he would never earn a button but that never seemed to bother him and he took advantage of not being tied down to one crew.

Cesare had gotten a tip off from one of his cab drivers that a guy he would be transporting was carrying something he was very keen to keep secret. Sadly for him there are no secrets in any of Cesare's cabs.

The three men waited in the hazy alley. Thomas was throwing rocks against a wall, the grating skipping noise ricocheted through the alleyway. 

"Jeezus kid, cut it out." Paul tossed annoyingly over his shoulder. He approached Cesare at the mouth of the alley,

"What d'ya think he's got eh?" Paul asked, wondering at the prize to come.

"I have no idea Paulie boy," replied Cesare playfully, "but I want it."

The two men smiled as the sound of another rock skipped down the walls, "Oi! Ya bleedin'..." Paul stomped back over to the kid down the alley as Cesare laughed.

Then from down the road he spotted the familiar yellow vehicle he was waiting for.

"Look alive gentlemen!" Cesare shouted back, before flicking his cigarette into the street. "Our paycheck is coming."

The taxi veered off the main road and suddenly stopped in front of the three men behind the club. Cesare immediately threw open the back door as his boys "scared off" the driver. The passenger was an unimpressive man in a suit fit for an accountant, bowler cap and all, who immediately began shouting the usual things... "Who are you?! What is going on?! Do you know who I am?!"

"Yes yes..." Cesare played along impatiently, "I'm sure this is an outrage and that you're a very important person from back East." Cesare had the man by the collar of his shirt and dragged him out of the side door. As the mans legs fell out of the cab, Cesare noticed the suitcase in the backseat.

"So what is it that's so important back here friend?" He asked, bringing his face close to the passenger.

"I... I... don't know what you're talking about."

CRACK

Cesare could feel the fracturing teeth under the weight of his fist. The man began to slump to the side but was caught by the tension of his collar in Cesare's hand.

"You could have just told us. Now I'm gonna have to beat you, AND I'm gonna find out what your hiding for myself." Cesare held the man erect as he called over to Thomas, "Tommy check the suitcase back here!"

The teen jogged over from his altercation with the driver and obediently rummaged around in the taxi. Meanwhile Cesare set about the butcher's work. The taxi rocked on its axles from the impact of the man's head on the wheel-well. Cesare was silent save for the exhalation preceding the muted thuds of strikes on tender flesh. Through some divine intervention the man passed out and Cesare dropped him to the floor as the suitcase clicked open.

"Holy. Shit." Thomas exclaimed from the back seat, "Cesare you gotta come look at this!"

Cesare leaned through the open side door and saw the suitcase open on the backseat. Inside were stacks upon stacks hundred dollar bills, neatly bound and organized in rows. Cesare's eyes got wide as he struggled to grasp the full magnitude of the score.

Paul wandered back to the side of the taxi after "chasing off" the driver, but he froze as he saw the passenger on the ground,

"Mary mother of God, do you know who this is, Cesare?!" he yelled in audible unease.

"Paul! We're fucking rich!" Cesare called excitedly over the top of the taxi,

"We're fookin' dead is what we are!" Paul cried, now obviously distraught.

Cesare chuckled, "What the hell are you on about?" he asked as he grabbed a stack of cash. He walked around the cab to show Paul the take. Paul's hands were behind his head, finger's intertwined...

"Cesare," he said, almost trembling now, "it's one of Nikki's boys."

Cesare froze, "Who?"

"He's one of Nikki Swango's boys! She's a fookin' Right Hand in Chicago she is! She was housin' up with that group outside the Strip for awhile setting up business in Vegas, she's got places all over the country!"

Cesare dropped the stacks of cash. There was no question as to who's courier he had just knocked over. He knew there had been something more to Nikki when he had spoken to her in the coffee shop, but he had no idea who exactly he had been speaking to. Cesare put both hands on his head running his fingers through his hair in the darkness.

"SHIT!" He screamed standing over the unconscious courier. Looking back at the taxi Cesare realized Thomas was stuffing his pockets with hundred dollar bills, "Tommy put it back!" he called to the teen,

"What?"

"Just fuckin' put the money back! Quit asking so many goddamn questions huh?!"

He began pacing back and forth in the alley, his shadow passing over the scattered bills and the legs of the man on the ground, racking his brain for a solution...

"Okay... okay, okay Paul, what do we do? How do we fix this?"

"We can't let it set," Paul replied, "Maybe if we bring it all back and beg forgiveness we won't end up in a hole in the desert, but if we go, or if there's a single dollar missing from that case, we may as well clear out."

It sounded good to Cesare, anything to stay alive at this point.

"Right, good. Help me get all this back into the case."

The men began collecting the fallen bills comically crab walking foot by foot from bill to bill in the dark alley. Suddenly a voice broke the silence,

"Hey you there!"

A pair of police officers had noticed the taxi while on their beat and were blocking the entry to the alleyway. Cesare and Paul looked up and with almost complete instinct, both men were standing. Paul turned and began his flight, as Cesare called out, "Tommy get out!"

But it was too late, the officers had the teen trapped in the backseat of the taxi. Cesare turned and began his flight out of the alley. Leaving the shouting officers behind, Cesare hurdled himself over a fence behind the club and turned in the direction of the Strip hoping to lose himself in the evening crowd. Paul was nowhere to be seen.

Eventually Cesare made his way to his flat. His head was spinning. He tried to pour a drink but his hand was shaking. Frustrated, Cesare sent a glass careening across the small kitchen shattering against the far wall. He was a dead man. He collapsed on the couch hoping he would wake up in the morning and find it was all a dream.

The morning brought no such solace. Cleaning the grime of the preceding night off, Cesare got himself ready for the uncomfortable necessity of the day. There was nothing for it. He had to find Nikki and he had to do it before the confiscation of however much money he had just lost her became public knowledge. Cesare grimaced at the idea that this could become the second time a woman wanted to kill him.

The Strip moved on much as it always does oblivious to the danger Cesare found himself in. He began by moving through territory he know the Longneck crew operated in. After an hour of well placed bribes and eavesdropping, he felt like he had a suitable address. Oddly, the address didn't lead to a dingy part of beat down Vegas where hoods normally hang out. The building almost gave off a homey feeling. Cesare knocked on the door... ready to once again be face to face with Nikki, Right Hand of Chicago, and the Queen of Vegas...

Nikki carefully wrapped all the items she'd purchased from Top Glass, throwing up a quick prayer that the movers wouldn't smash all the lovely pieces to bits before they reached Chicago. Then again, maybe dragging the odds and ends of her past around might not be such a great idea when one is seeking a fresh start. She stood there staring at the hand-blown sconce in her hands when a brisk knock sounded at the door. Opening it, she found one of her bodyguards there, looking a bit green.

"Spill it," she said with a sigh. Of course something had gone wrong. Didn't it always? 

"Lewis, Ma'am. He got pinched by some guys, took a beating," he said, staring at the floor as she sat heavily on the divan. "Cops showed up and confiscated your cut from that last Radhe deal," he added, now watching her turn green at the double punch to the gut.

"Get out," she said, eyes closed. 

"Ma'am. Me and some of the fellas can try-"

"GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT!" She screamed at him, causing him to nearly trip over his own feet as he backpeddled out the door and closed it quickly. 

She sat there for a minute. An hour? It could have been a month for all she knew. Another knock sounded at the door and her head raised slowly, the tendons in her neck making an almost audible creak. 

Standing slowly, she smoothed her hands down her dress and tucked her hair behind her ears before opening the door. Her eyes widened in mild shock at the sight of Cesare, the handsome young fellow from poetry night at the coffee bar. He, too, looked a bit green around the gills. Seemed that color was popular today.

"Mr. Torretta," she said, the confused crease in her brow and tilt of her head countering the smile that his appearance had elicited. "Are you in trouble? Please come in," she said, stepping back to allow entry. "Excuse the mess. Moving day," she murmured, leading the way past several boxes and towards the couch. "A moment," she said, leaving him there to grab two bottles of beer from the kitchenette and placing one in his hand before sitting down. 

"I don't know if you're a drinker, but you look like you could use one. I know I could," she quipped, popping the top and drinking deeply.

To any other guy that day Nikki's smile would have signaled good fortune. To Cesare all it meant was that she didn't know yet what had happened; or if she did that she hadn't pinned him yet. He needed to figure out exactly what she knew already.

He awkwardly shuffled into the room and accepted the beer placed in his hand. He tried to smooth his hair, no doubt still unkempt from the night before. Composing his nerves as best he could, he tried to project the innocence of his visit,

"Thanks!" he began, already a bit over-excitedly, "I uh, yeah. I guess I could use one..."

He followed Nikki further into the room where she sat and took his own seat.

"I hope you don't mind me stopping in unannounced like this," He began trying his best to look natural leaning against the back of his chair, "I heard from a guy, who knows a guy, who says they know you, that you're making a move to Chicago, so I thought I'd stop in to see if the rumors were true." He let his eyes move around the boxes in the room before softly adding, "Seems they were."

Cesare could see the shadow on Nikki's brow. The shadow of a distracting thought buzzing in the mind constantly crying for attention. He swirled his bottle in his hand absentmindedly before raising it to his lips,

"Rough morning?"

Biting her lip, she debated on what she should and shouldn't say. In the end, she decided it wasn't anything but embarrassing. And expensive.

"One of my guys got rolled, and in the end, the cops made off with my take that he happened to be carrying. Took a beating as well, but he'll be well taken care of for as long as he's silent," she said, watching him tip back his beer bottle.

His knuckles were scraped and bruised.

He​​​​​​ rolled people for a living.

A slow blink as her fingers began to peel the label from her own bottle. Sure, she could get mad, but what good would it do? He'd have had no way of knowing Lewis was one of hers. Instead, she stood and began to pace the room. She couldn't afford this loss, not now. Everything she'd had had been funneled into Menace's headquarters in Chicago. Draining the beer, she stopped near her front window and gazed down on the gaudy Strip. God, this place. One nightmare after another, and she was ready to leave every bit of it behind. Unfortunately, she couldn't do that while flat broke.

"Did you get any, Cesare? Before the cops confiscated it...did you get any?"

The words struck Cesare in his chest, each one knocking more air out of his struggling lungs. She knew. She fucking knew! Should he play dumb? No. She wouldn't suffer that. It said a lot that he hadn't been greeted with the barrel of a gun already. Silence crept noticeably into the room as Cesare leaned forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees. He thought for a moment about whether Mexico would have been the right decision after all...

Lifting his head up to her, he placed his hand into his jacket pocket and produced three crumbled hundred dollar bills he had in his hands when the cops had showed up. He laid the pathetic take on the table in front of him. There were no words necessary. He sat there just looking at her as she stood silhouetted in front of the window.

"I would have brought it all back here with me if I could have..." he said resignedly. "This is all I had in my hands when the cops pinched both our guys and the case." He motioned to some invisible figure in the corner of the room with the bottle, "Mine was just a kid..."

He could imagine her tensing up as he spoke. He paused a moment longer before venturing further...

"How much was it?"

She tried to play it cool, and at one time, maybe it was just a drop in the bucket, but that haul was the last of her reserves.

"One million," she said, lifting the bottle to drink, and finding it empty. She returned to the kitchenette for another and came back to sit near him on the couch. The crumpled bills on the table looked as if they'd been dragged through a puddle and splashed with blood. 

"I...have no idea what to do. I don't have time to build up that kind of savings again. I owe people. A lot of people, a lot of money. God, just my goons alone..." she said, falling back into the couch and pinching the bridge of her nose. She could feel a migraine trying to take over. 

"Your kid, he's a civilian? How old?" She asked, desperate for something else to worry about. Getting ratted out by a teenage deliquent seemed to fit the bill. 

Cesare winced at the thought of Tommy in an interrogation room... "Seventeen...maybe?" He blamed himself for letting the kid tag along.

"Luckily he doesn't know anything about you, if anyone it will be me the cops want to see."

There was really no telling how Thomas would behave inside, but Cesare would owe him if he got out without turning rat.

He knew he had to come up with a way to fix this, but Christ, where could anyone find that kind of money? He looked at Nikki clutching the bridge of her nose with her eyes closed, and a thought struck him. There was a heist that had been stirring in the visionary portion of his mind from the first time he had walked into one of the glittering casinos of Vegas. It was the type of job that old gangsters mentioned with hushed voices and laughter in bars. They spoke about it like they were speaking about walking on the moon. Cesare now had no choice but to believe that this deep echo of a dream could be possible. He needed it to work.

Leaning roughly back into the couch he breathed in deeply before speaking into the ceiling,  "Nikki..." he tried to talk himself out of sharing his thoughts, "I may have an idea." He waited until he felt the shift of fabric on the couch indicating she was listening, "An absolutely crazy idea, but I'm not sure how to get that kind of money faster than what I'm about to suggest."

Cesare refused to open his eyes. Any look of disbelief would end this fragile idea before it could escape his lips. "I think we can hit The Las Vegas Club." His crew of cab drivers also brought him information from commercial teamsters which had opened his eyes to the opportunity of a lifetime. The chance to rob a Las Vegas Casino. It was out in the air now and there was no taking it back.

He opened his eyes and turned his head toward her, not sure what reaction to expect...

Nikki leaned forward, ready to listen. Everyone wanted a piece of the casinos...everyone. Rumors, stories, daydreams of pulling it off abounded everywhere. Unfortunately, not many succeeded. None she knew, anyway. 

This fella, though. This one might. Even at his level, he was wise beyond his years, clever, and ambitious. She forgot about the money for a moment and smiled. This, she had to hear.

"Lay it out for me, end to end. I'm quite curious as to how you'd pull it off. I'm sure you've heard about all the same failures that I have, hell, the penitentiary is full of dreamers that have attempted it," she said, shifting her weight and tucking her legs to the side, a kid waiting for storytime to begin. 

"Before you begin, though, make sure you work me in to the scenario. No way you're having all the fun...I want in."

Chicago could wait. Things just got interesting.

Cesare hadn't really thought she would be so open to his idea... well alright...

He moved forward on the couch, his voice was rushed, "Well, I've been working with taxi drivers for a long time now, and some of the guys I know are friends with other kinds of drivers, truckers, chauffeurs, and whatever-the-hell-else. Well awhile back, I was talking to Mick, a regular of mine, and he told me about how he ran into a couple armored car drivers in a bar on the Strip talking about how they had to make some deposit pickup later from the Vegas Club."

He started unconsciously motioning with his hand as if painting the scenario in the air, checking her expression for confirmation to continue, she seemed genuinely intrigued.

"So I had my cabs keep an I on the loading side of the casino when they had jobs there for a couple weeks, and the armored cars show up for the deposits every week at the same time!" He was speaking excitedly now like working up to a grand reveal, "I also figured out where the casino contracts out their uniform laundering. I have thought since then that it would be a stroll to knock over the deposit truck from the loading bay of the casino itself, the only problem is, the floor guys in every casino know my face..." An unfortunate side-effect of living such a boisterous night life in Las Vegas is that guys working there start recognizing you... makes it really hard to rob them.

"But they don't know you!" He waited for the idea to naturally click inside her head, when her eyes emitted that tell-tale spark of understanding he finished, "If you can find a way into the back of the Vegas Club and find an outside door, I can have a team of guys in the loading bay dressed as workers like that" he accented with a snap of his fingers, and then seemed to come back to his senses. He must have sounded like a blathering mad-man...

Her gaze travelled somewhere into the middle distance as she clicked through the scenario, looking for holes. Finding none but the risk itself, she smiled, eyes returning to focus on Cesare's handsome face.

"When?"

***

Just two days later, the plan was set into motion. Nikki arrived in one of Cesare's cabs and strolled through the front doors of the casino, dressed in a very tight, very form-fitting button-down dress. Her hair and makeup had been impeccably tended to, and her only accessory was a small pocketbook hanging from the strap over her shoulder. 

Inside it, the remains of everything she had left, and with any luck, it would only be for show.

Strolling around the tables and finding the manager chatting with one of the pit bosses, she politely interrupted.

"Excuse me. I'm new to this casino, could one of you gentleman point me to the high-stakes room?" She asked, watching smugly as both sets of eyes course up and down her figure before the manager replied. 

"Yes! Yes, of course! I'm Donald Jacobs, the floor manager here. Please follow me," he said, resting a hand on the small of her back and guiding her towards the poker area. "New to the casino, did you say? Well we're happy you chose us this evening, Miss...?"

"Call me Jess," she said, slowing her pace. "New shoes. Lovely things, but they're killing my feet. Unfortunate I can't run around barefoot," she laughed, stopping to look down on her insanely high heels while giving him an eyeful of leg through the slit in the dress in the process. "Really looking forward to a sit-down and a stiff drink. Too bad I've got to lose so much money in the process, am I right?" She said, nudging him playfully. His eyes flared and he inhaled deeply. 

"Oh, we can't have that! There's a very comfortable couch in my office, if you'd care to join me for a cocktail before conquering our poker tables, Miss...Jess. Shall we?" 

Gotcha. 

With a demure smile, she took his offered arm and was escorted to the manager's office, where she sat on the leather couch while he set his keys on the desk blotter and poured two bourbons. He handed her one, but before he could sit, she knocked it back. With an apologetic smile, she handed the glass back to him, and he returned his own wolfish grin and went back to fetch her another. Standing, she followed closely, popping open her pocketbook and palming the keys into it before he even reached the decanter. When he turned around with both glasses, she was right there behind him, accepting one of the glasses and knocking it back just as quickly. He blinked, knocked back his own, and was immediately backing her towards the couch, hands traveling up her sides. There was only so much of this she was willing to put up with, however, so once she'd been pushed down onto the couch and tolerated a few seconds of his bourbon-scented mouth on hers, she put the brakes on when he'd unbuttoned most of her top buttons and was attempting to shove his hand in there.

"Gosh, wait 'til Tobias finds out I shared a cocktail with one of the big casino managers! He'll be so impressed that I-"

"What?!?" Jacobs squeaked, scrambling off her and standing, only to run his hands through his hair in despair. "So you're...you're..." 

She watched as the wheels spun, and panic set it. Throwing on a playful smile, she stood and smoothed his lapels. 

"I'm not his wife, silly. I'm his sister, just flew in from-"

"Oh, God, that's even worse! Please, you need to leave, and not speak of this," he pleaded, terror in his eyes.

"But why, Donald? He'd be proud of me, making such an important friend on my first night in town," she purred, backing him up towards the door and placing her hands on his chest. He shoved them away before grabbing the door handle and twisting it open.

"Why?!? Because anyone that touches you will be dead before they hit the floor. Good evening, Miss!" He said, propelling them both out the door and practically running away down the hallway to the casino floor. 

With a satisfied smile, Nikki turned the other direction, towards the fire exits and kitchen area. Following the red arrows, she found herself through the maze and at the floor to the loading dock in the back. Using the pilfered keys, she unlocked the door and stepped through it into the late afternoon sun. Cesare was there with his men, resting against a wall and smoking. He crushed his cigarette out under his shoe and walked towards her with a grin as she extended the keys towards him. About halfway across the width of the alley, though, he stopped, attention drawn to not her face, but below it. Looking down, she laughed at her exposed cleavage, framed like a photograph by the open dress. 

"All hands, that one," she chuckled, buttoning back up and throwing him a wink.

Cesare found it difficult to get guys to jump on his plan, the fact that one of his last jobs had gotten a kid pinched in addition to the sheer audacity of this one meant that only guys with nothing more to lose were eager to give it a shot. Eventually by scouring enough bars and back-room poker tables, listening closely to see who was trustworthy, Cesare had put together a crew he thought he could trust. "Crew" may be a generous term... "Trio" fit better. Eager to make up for his part in the failed recovery of Nikki's money, Paul had volunteered to take on the heist. It was the best opportunity he had to finally make a big score and disappear from the life. The other two were fraternal twins, Ryan and Albert Vickson. Sons of a bar manager who ran a known mobster hot spot they were eager to break into the in-crowd of wiseguys and saw the casino as their way to make a splash.

The morning of the job found Cesare's boys in the parking lot of Wanda's Laundromat. The widow of an American officer who died in the war, Wanda had become quite the entrepreneur in the years following the conflict turning a small house laundry service into a nearly industrial system of washers growing with the casinos and union workers of Vegas.

"Just four Wanda, that's all." Cesare leaned across the laundromat counter, "They'll be back before the day is done, I swear on my mother."

Wanda was a lovely if aging woman with a mind for business, "I don't know what you have planned, Cesare, but I don't feel comfortable risking the trust of one of my biggest contracts, I'm sorry!"

She walked from around the counter and into a side office, Cesare followed her,

"Wanda it's not like that," he pursued, "It's a quick in-and-out thing, quiet as you please, and we'll be right back here before you close up for the night."

She eyed him from behind her desk, "I'm sorry Cesare I just can't risk being connected to something! I don't even know what it is, but whatever you're planning can't be good." There was a finality in her voice that hinted that any further argument would only strengthen her resolve. Cesare couldn't let this fall through... he brought out a battering ram.

Walking to the office window, Cesare shut the blinds. He reached into his jacket and produced a sizable stack of cash and threw it onto the desk with a thump. Wanda's eyes grew wide.

"You see that?" Cesare said hushed pointing at the money, "There's ten thousand dollars, right there on your desk. It's all I have in the world, Wanda, and all I want is to rent four uniforms from you. Just a business deal."

She took a step closer to the surface and flipped through the bills with her thumb on the desk.

"Dammit..." she said to herself, "You Italians and your words. Smooth as olive oil aren't you?" Scrutinizing Cesare a moment longer with her hand on the money she finally relented, "Jesus, fine! But mark my words if I don't see those uniforms before I lock this door tonight I'll strangle you myself with my bare hands, Cesare Torretta!"

Cesare excitedly pulled Wanda's head in and kissed her forehead, "Ah Wanda you're an angel!" leaving the money, Cesare hurried toward the door.

"WITH MY BARE HANDS!" Wanda called after him...

***

They looked so... legitimate. Cesare thought as he scanned the group in the alley behind the Vegas Club in their white double-breasted uniforms. The late afternoon sun was skating over the asphalt giving everything an orange tone. Paul was seated near the door on the ground and was bouncing his leg in a humorous impatient manner,

"Relax." Cesare said calmly, "She's a professional. We'll be in there any second."

"Oh, of that I have no doubt, boss," Paul replied, immediately stilled, "It's what happens on the inside that has me nerves wound up tight'r than a girdle on a Baptist minister's wife at an all you can eat pancake breakfast."

Cesare choked on his cigarette comically coughing out a cloud of smoke, "What?!" he asked incredulously hardly able to contain his laughter. The twins behind him were almost falling over each other howling.

A moment later the door clicked. The men all looked over in unison to see none other but Nikki Swango looking absolutely stunning leaning into the alleyway. Cesare dropped his cigarette and rubbed it into the ground with his foot. Making his way toward the door, he stuttered a moment at the sight of Nikki's unbuttoned dress...

"All hands, that one," Nikki half laughed following his eyes and quickly amending herself. Was that a wink he saw?

"Goodness Nikki," Cesare said, awestruck, "Putting on the Ritz tonight, aren't we?" Receiving the keys from Nikki's extended hand, he turned and nodded at the other men and moved past the door.

"Alright remember," He instructed, "We aren't here to drop bodies, Christ knows we don't want more heat than we're likely to get already."

He began to lead the group down the back hallways of the casino in the general direction of the loading bay, the clicks of Nikki's heels echoing down the empty corridor. They caught no more than a couple inquisitive glances from the kitchens as the group moved confidently with the over-dressed woman. Rounding past a couple awkwardly placed corners, Cesare finally spotted a set of industrial-looking double doors. The group held up for a moment in front of them.

"Alright, chances are there will be a couple of loaders waiting in the room with the deposit bags and a security manager if they're smart." Cesare said as he looked through the keys on the ring Nikki had given him, "I'm guessing no more than three to four men from the information I have."

Finally finding the right key, Cesare slid it into the lock, "I'll do the talking up front with Nikki while you three get into position to take care of it, but remember, we can't afford a shot going off now."

Looking at the group around him, Cesare grinned before turning the key with a clack and pushing open the doors.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" A well-built man barked as the group made their way into the loading garage, "You can't be back here! Go on! back the way you came!"

Working quickly Cesare scanned the room. Two large loading-men. One security man, the barker. Two large carts of deposit bags. Empty bay with open garage door. Wooden door far side of the room. Perfect, a supply closet of some kind.

"Sorry sir," Cesare responded to the man, "But this is coming straight from the top. We've got a VIP here," He motioned towards Nikki with his hand as the other men began dispersing into the room... "She asked if she could enter her limousine from the back of the establishment so as not to make such a fuss exiting out the front, so the boss asked for us to walk her out from the high-rollers tables."

The man was absorbed in Nikki to the point that Cesare wasn't sure he'd even heard all of what he'd said. Paul had worked his way behind him as the twins moved over toward where the loaders were seated at a table.

The trap was sprung. On Paul's mark, the three men produced their weapons. The two loaders were completely surprised by the twins and were starting to be corralled into the side-room with threats of an indiscernible nature. Paul swiftly placed a hand over the security manager's mouth and placed the barrel of his pistol against the man's jaw,  "There, there boyo," he growled as the security man's eyes widened watching Cesare and Nikki, "Let's go have a talk. This way." Paul began to lead the man following in the twins' footsteps and depositing him into the supply-room.

"The boys'll look after those three and make sure they stay quiet as a mouse," Paul announced returning from the room.

"Perfect." replied Cesare turning to Nikki, it was the first time he had actually had a chance to look at her in detail. She seemed carved out of marble. The extravagant dress embraced her figure sliding gently from her shoulders to her legs which exposed themselves as she took a few more steps into the room. Her dark hair fell generously over her neck and Cesare wondered at the juxtaposition of her body and the work to be done. She turned and caught him watching, "Perfect." he said again, reaching into his own uniform's waistband he retrieved the pistols he'd brought.

Handing one to her he took a deep breath, "Ready for the fun part?"

Accepting the piece, Nikki checked the cylinder and safety, trying to ignore the fact that the metal was warm in her hands, having been tucked in Cesare's pants. She looked up at him then, an innuendo ready to fly off her lips when the sound of a heavy vehicle approaching echoed down the service alley, brakes squealing a bit as the armored car swung into view and began backing up towards the mouth of the open bay. Glancing around for a hiding spot, Nikki found nothing, save a large cabinet a few feet away that may or may not keep them out of sight. It was going to be a tight fit...but it was that or haul all those bags themselves. Wordlessly, she backed Cesare behind it, crushing herself against him in the process. Her breathing was too fast, but she didn't know if it was from the thrill of the job, or the proximity of the man in front of her. Inhaling slowly, she tried to focus on the sounds of the armed guards as they heckled each other and began slinging bags into the back of the truck as if they were sacks of potatoes. 

"Yeah you don't wanna eat at that place, it's just for drinkin'. I ate there one time, the missus was out of town, you know, and I can't cook worth a shit so I go down there for a beer and a sandwich, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I swear to ya, I was on the crapper for three days," Moron #1 huffed out. Moron #2 proceeded to laugh at Moron #1, and the sound of a money bag hitting someone in the gut was heard, followed by an 'oof'.

"Jackass. Like you never got the squirts before," Moron #1 retorted before Nikki looked up at Cesare and rolled her eyes. His, she noticed, were a color of blue she'd never seen before, almost electric. Something brushed her hip...his fingers? 

Before she could find out, the sound of the rear doors of the truck slamming brought her back into focus. She nodded at Cesare and he returned the gesture, both of them bearing smiles of anticipation as they erupted from behind the cabinet and advanced on the Morons, guns raised.

Cesare almost stumbled as he was pushed into the nearby cabinet. The sound of the armored car bounced off the concrete garage walls. There was little more to do but pray they didn't think too hard about the conspicuous lack of help...

He was snug, back against the cabinet with Nikki pressed up against him. Cesare maneuvered his hand toward her back to keep her from stumbling out in those heels. He could feel her breath on his neck as she looked up at him. Inclining his head down he saw her smile, and he knew it was time.

As they burst from the cabinet, Cesare could already tell it wasn't going to go as planned. Normally when you get the drop on someone while armed their instinct is to drop what their doing and surrender, not draw a gun of their own. Moron #1 wanted to be a hero. The noise from the cabinet had drawn the weapon from his holster as though it were simply instinct reacting. Not two steps from the cabinet, Cesare heard it.

Or he didn't hear much. He knew a shot had been fired, but the close concrete walls had turned it into a constant ringing noise. Nikki had walked out in front of him, he'd seen the flash of red on her neck and the warm sensation on the side of his face. She stuttered for a moment as he moved past her towards the hero. Another shot. Everything was quiet now. Cesare's eyes burned a blue passion. The man's hands were shaking uncontrollably as Cesare approached him driven by a singular purpose. He didn't know if he'd been hit, he didn't think about it. All he could think about was this man's defiant insolence in thinking he could touch Nikki and live. His footsteps echoing in his head in slow motion, the man's hands ejected the weapon he'd been holding as he seemed to shrink under the weight of Cesare's figure approaching. Cesare looked him in the eyes and tried to communicate the sentencing. He believed the man understood... then he raised his pistol and the man disappeared.

BANG!

The resounding retort of his own weapon seemed to clear the fog from the room. Searching for the other guard, he discovered his terrified form cowering behind a nearby bin. Sensing no danger, he turned back to Nikki, fearing what he'd see...

As Nikki and Cesare advanced on the guards, a bee stung her. 

She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a bee in the desert, but that was her thought until a warm wetness ran down her neck and along the neckline of her dress. Grabbing at the wound, she only had time to confirm that there was no arterial spray when Cesare stepped in front of her and moved like a hot knife through butter towards the man who'd shot her. Another shot, but it was as if there'd been none at all. The guard dropped his weapon in the face of whatever he saw in Cesare's, and Cesare simply...killed him.

Lifting her arm again to see to the second guard, she slowly lowered it again as Cesare turned towards her. Blood seeped from his side, blossoming like a dark red flower on the starched white of the uniform. He seemed to not notice it, instead looking at her with those blue, blue eyes as she absorbed whatever quiet rage they were emitting. Without thinking, and without breaking that eye contact, she quickly lifted her arm and put a bullet in the center of the second man's chest. 

There's something intimate about murder. Whether they wanted to be or not, they were bonded now, doomed to carry the burden of these deaths together, for better or worse. Richer, or poorer.

Well. Maybe not the poor part. She moved towards him and gently peeled open the uniform jacket to inspect the wound. 

Another graze. How the hell had they gotten this lucky? Silently placing a hand on his cheek, she offered a small smile before they broke apart and slammed the back doors of the truck. Then they climbed inside, him behind the driver's seat and her scrambling into the passenger's. Less than a mile later, they were pulling into the rented warehouse and her men were unloading it before the engine was even cut off. Both crawled out and stood to the side and they watched, two bloody people dressed inappropriately as bag after bag of cash passed in front of them.

She was in pain, she was exhausted, and she was sticky with her own drying blood, but she'd do it again in a heartbeat. Leaning into Cesare, she spoke quietly. 

"You can have every dollar if you come with me."