Heists and Vengeance

Twenty-Two

Cole

Cole hadn't been in the house when the doctor had put in Lana's stitches – the sight of medical procedures made him uncomfortable. It wasn't, as Erin liked to joke, the blood (he was a marksman after all) but something about the whole scene just made him squeamish. Needless to say, Erin had described everything to him in excruciating detail, and he was prepared to take her word for it.

Even thinking of it now, twenty-four hours later, he shuddered, and cast the image out of his mind. He leaned back into the sofa that he was reclining on, and darted a glance to his watch. Two o'clock. He frowned. A vague memory of Erin saying something about them having to meet a tailor at two-thirty from the night before surfaced in his mind. He sighed, and got up, the moral part of his brain outweighing the lazy part.

He trudged upstairs, and peeked his head into Erin's room, expecting to find her at her desk, either drawing or creating another one of her explosives. So when the room was deserted, he was mildly surprised, but decided to head to the person who probably knew her the best – Brett.

He headed down the hall, and knocked on Brett's door, feeling slightly awkward. Of all the Aces, Brett was the one he interacted with the least. Even Lana had a better relationship with him, and he hadn't known her for nearly as long.

"Come in!" Brett called, the trademark mischief infecting his tone. Cole opened the door and headed inside.

The room was painted blue, with numerous posters up on the walls. Cole recognized a few – one was for a popular rock band, another was for a sports team that he vaguely remembered seeing on TV.

Brett, who was sprawled over his bed, looked up from his laptop, and followed Cole's line of sight.

"Oh – the New Merida Royales – best baseball team ever. Supported them since I was a kid, in a home of Tempent Wolves fans. What about you?"

"Ah...I'm more of a football – and by that I mean soccer – fan myself. In England, we don't play much baseball. Quite frankly, I don't understand what you Americans see in the sport – a guy hitting a ball and running around a pitch, as other people try to stop him? Sounds boring – I'll pass."

"First of all, it's called a baseball diamond." He would have come across as condescending if it hadn't been for the cheeky smile that graced his face as he spoke. "And, I don't see much appeal in soccer either. But, while I'm sure we could talk for hours about our passions for two very different sports, I doubt that that's what you came to talk about. So what's up?"

Cole thought for a second, trying to remember himself. "Oh, yeah – Erin told me that we had to go meet someone? In like...twenty minutes? Do you know where she is?"

Brett blew out a breath. "Umm...last I checked, about an hour ago, she was in the shower. So, chances are, she's still there."

That, unfortunately, was probably true. Cole sighed, gave Brett his thanks, and slipped out of the room. He strode down the hall, and knocked on the bathroom door. Sure enough, he heard a yelp from inside, and Erin's voice shouting.

"Who is it? What do you want?"

"It's Cole. And – aren't we supposed to meet someone now? A...tailor?" Cole responded in the same tone of voice.

"Crap! Yeah. Okay, okay. What time is it?"

He glanced at the clock in the hall. "Ten past two."

"Okay. I'll be out in a sec. Wait for me in the living room."

Erin kept her word, and appeared downstairs two minutes later. From the disgruntled look on her face, Cole judged that she was not happy with her shower being cut short.