Thank you to all of the people that enjoy the stories regardless of the storyline. I like writing even though I'm not very good at it and I will continue writing my stories the way I'd like.

I hope you enjoy this AU. x

"I miss our old house." Sighing, Jane nestled her head against Roman's shoulder.

We were a team, Roman and I. He was king of distractions and diversions, I was the light fingered little sister.

Our act was a thing of beauty, choreographed, timed, perfected. No one could beat us.

"I do too, J." He replies throwing an arm over my shoulder. Roman was the kind of guy that didn't care much about anything. He cared little about where we slept, what we ate, his ex girlfriends but the one thing I was extremely certain about was his love for me. He'd try to act all tough but he doesn't fool me. He wishes I hadn't been dragged into the life we now had and he missed no chance to tell me how he wished I was settled down somewhere with a few kids. Honestly, the mere thought of children scare me more than anything I've ever encountered.

Michael, the leader is resting against the wooden pillar with a face of utter nonchalance, as if he were merely waiting for a bus on a spring day, apple in hand. He isn't slumped at all, his body is clearly too muscular for that, yet it is just as relaxed as his face. He's almost smiling—smiling as if something good were about to happen. The world falls through my feet. Good for him is likely bad for me. Very bad.

Being the only woman in the group, it was expected of me to bring in what Michael called the 'big men'.

"Just use your little charms, bat your eyes or whatever," he'd say waving his hand around in annoyance.

Roman wouldn't have any of it.

"Just get a random hooker or someone to do your dirty work. You're not using my sister as a whore."

They'd go back and forth for awhile until I finally tell them that it's okay and I don't mind it.

The man has the swagger of someone I don't even want to lock eyes with, let alone cross. His arms are more ink than skin and his blonde hair so tousled as if he'd just rolled out of bed.

Night rolls around and after a time, sleep comes heavy to my lids. I feel the shuttering of my synapses, the quiet lure into sleepiness. As each limb becomes heavy and my heart slows to a more peaceful beat, the comfort of bed calls.

"C'mon, bedtime" Roman says wearily, nudging me off of his shoulders. I get up wobbly on my feet but I manage.

The room we rented was pretty rundown and the paint chipped badly but it was home and it had been for quite sometime.

We left our childhood home when I was six and Roman had been fourteen. Our childhood was shit and we got out. Not much to it.

Our father had been a soldier almost his entire life. He joined originally to prove to his father that he was nothing like he was—he wasn't a drunk and he'd never lay a hand on his wife, the way his father did his mother.

We were happy. Roman was the usual rebellious kid; getting into trouble and completely ignoring his little sister. I was more of a daddy's girl. When my father had to leave for all of those months I'd sit by the window and cry for hours. No one could get me to move — my mother had been worried for awhile. She even took me to a bunch of kid shrinks.. Fun!

They all assured her that I was alright and that was just my way of dealing with my father's departure.

Every month my father would write us all separate letters. When that one letter didn't come I immediately knew something was wrong. My mother was either oblivious to the whole thing or was every optimistic.

"Maybe he didn't have the time," she would say everyday but I knew and I was certain Roman had known too.

After two months had passed, my mother finally received the fatal news.

When he saw the brains of his best friend blown out in the trench next to him he had dropped his rifle and run. He had run from the battlefield in blind terror and panic, and ran straight into a hidden bomb. He died instantly.

My mother didn't take that news very well. She'd drink herself into oblivion everyday. She paid little to no mind to my brother and I — Roman had basically taken over the role of a parent. He'd make sure I ate while our mother was out partying with the local strippers young enough to be her daughters. He'd get me already for school and helped out with my homework. We hadn't been close when I was younger but his bravery and persistence to take care of me made me love my brother more than I thought possible.

When I finally sleep I wake after only a couple of fitful hours and wake as if a whole night had passed, but it hasn't. I wish I could be one of those people who roll over and doze off but I can't. I can either lie in my bed watching the colour slowly seep back into the walls, waiting for the dawn chorus, or I can get up. Sometimes I get dressed and go downtown to a late night club or bar. If I'm going to die early from never sleeping enough I figure I should make the most of my time.

A slight tap on the door makes me spring up to my feet, grabbing the gun I kept under my pillow for safety. The tap grew louder and persistent.

Does no one else hear that? I thought silently

tap, tap, tap

Slowly I make my way over to the door. The tap stops abruptly and for a second I thought I was imagining things until I heard it again—louder this time.

Holding firmly onto my gun, I take a peek through the peephole but I saw no one. I was definitely hearing things. My insomnia caused me to hallucinate. Great!

Then the tapping starts again; too loud and persistent to just be my imagination. Without giving much thought to the fact that whomever is on the other side on the door will most likely shoot me in the face, I yanked the door open in annoyance keeping my gun steady.

There was no one there. I'm crazy

Shaking my head I made my way back to my room and slumped down on the bed. I yanked the covers over my slim body and squeezed my eyes tightly. Sleep, I command thee!

After a few minutes —hours of rolling around, I finally settled into a dreamless sleep. That lasted for what seemed like a few seconds before my alarm clock blasted nearly knocking me off my bed in the process.

Shit!

"Up and about, sunshine" Michael yelled banging on my door.

One of these days I was going to shoot him square in the face.

As soon as my barefoot crosses the threshold I know they're having a fry up by the smell of the bacon. If Michael is doing the cooking it will be perfectly crisp as good Canadian bacon should be, I can already taste it layered generously between two slices of a white bloomer from the bakers. But when I round the corner the smile is wiped from my face. They are not alone. Two strange girls sit around the breakfast table dressed up like they're all set to go clubbing, only they have no makeup on they look like the smallest sounds would make their heads explode. I could run and hide but no, this is my home. So I put the smile back on my face and greet them all, very loudly.

"Jesus," one of the girls winced. "Could you not be so loud?"

A frustrated sigh left my lips earning me a hard glare from Roman. I shrugged and helped myself to some bacon and eggs.

"Busy day today, so if you two are done sucking faces we need to move," I muffled through a mouthful of breakfast.

Michael apologized to the girls and led them through the front door. He offered to pay for them to get home safety but they declined.

Atleast they have some decency.

After washing up the dishes, Michael chucked a stack of papers towards me.

"Study this"

Roman peered over my shoulder and read along with me

"You're crazy," I said shaking head

"Kurt Weller is the most influential man right now. We'll get caught before I even get to see what he looks like" I grimaced, throwing the pile of papers back at him.

"Think about all the money, angel" he said rubbing this forefinger and thumb fingers dramatically.

"Think about all the jail time, too" Roman interrupted. My brother might've been an ass but he'd never let me risk my life for anything—not while he was alive atleast.

"Fine. You're either in or you're out. If you're out, princess pack up and leave."

"Mr. Weller?," Tasha, my secretary spoke quietly into the phone.

"There's a— she paused for a second as if reading from a script of some kind— Jane Fitzgerald, here to see you. She doesn't have an appointment, sir" she continued gently.

No rest for the wicked, he said inwardly.

"Let her in and you can leave now. Thanks Tasha" I hung up and loosen my dark tie with a simple tug.

It had been a long and all I needed was a cold shower and some beauty to warm my bed.

A firm rap jolted him out of his deep thoughts.

"Come —" he started before the woman just marched right in like she owned the place.

My kind of lady.

Kurt let his eyes roll up to the woman that had entered. Her heels clacked like they were damaging his walnut floor and he wanted to tell her to take them off. Her long dark hair was swept into a bundle on the top of her head and her makeup was well applied.

she wore a dark suit, but that isn't what grabbed his attention.

It was the nonchalant expressive she wore and the way her lips were pressed so tightly together as if she'd rather be anywhere but in his presence.

"Jane Fitzgerald," she said outstretching her hand to meet his.

Instead he extended his hand open palmed and invited her to sit. She stopped with no intention of letting him call the shots and proceeded with the formalities and her first question.

"I hear you're looking for a personal assistant," her hazel eyes gleamed and a small smile crept its way onto her face.

She's so beautiful when she smiles.

Clearing my throat, I sat upright and mirrored her unexcited expression.

"I am"

"Good. When can I start?"

I threw my head back and roared with laughter.

"Confident little thing, aren't ya" he say reaching across the table for her credentials.

"While I appreciate your confidence I have to interview as I would everyone," he added with a slight smile on his face.

She nodded and he proceeded.

Before each question she paused, head tilted to one side just a smidge, and then she delivered an articulate answer.

"You seem qualified enough but I still have to make a few calls."

He added seeing the uneasy look on her face, "as a precaution, I have to ensure you aren't just another pretty face after my money"

A little chuckle escaped her lips.

He stood up and outstretch his hand. She returned the gesture and shook his hand with the gentlest squeeze.

"I'll call you.. I mean I'll call your people and have them call you," he said confidentially.

"Lovely meeting you, Mr. Weller"

After she left Kurt threw his jacket off and rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows.

His phone flashed besides him notifying him of a call. His on and off sex buddy's face flashed across the screen.

"Hey"

"Are you done?" She asked seductively

"Yep. I'm on my way out" he replied, picking up the necessary files he'd need and headed out.