Number 06 │ A Leverage Fanfiction

The Jailhouse Job | Part 1

I took a slow drag of my cigarette, letting the smoke curl lazily from my lips before stubbing it out in the ashtray beside me. My gaze drifted to the corner of my loft, where my home gym stood. My fingers twitched with the urge to move, to work off the restlessness coiling in my muscles. But the dull throb in my shoulder and the sling strapped around it served as a firm reminder: no workouts till next week.

I sighed, shifting on the couch, flipping through the channels on the TV with disinterest. Nothing held my attention. Five minutes later, I was pacing. Ten minutes later, I was staring out the window, watching the city lights blur in the night.

Screw it. I needed to get out.

Grabbing my wallet and keys, I headed for the door, only to pause mid-step. My jacket—my damn jacket—I'd left it at HQ last time. A groan slipped past my lips. No way was I going out in the cold without it.

Later...

"Thanks," I muttered to the cab driver as I stepped onto the curb outside McRory's bar. Taking the stairs two at a time, I reached HQ—Nate's apartment—pushing open the door without a second thought.

I barely made it two steps inside before I noticed them. The whole team was there. Parker perched on the back of the couch, idly flipping a lockpick between her fingers. Eliot leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his ever-present scowl in place. Hardison was glued to his laptop, fingers tapping away at lightning speed, while Sophie stood nearby, arms folded, expression inquisitive.

My brow furrowed. "Did I miss a call or something? What are you guys doing?"

Hardison jolted upright and, in one swift motion, slammed his laptop shut. "Uhhh, nothing. Nothing at all. Heyyy, Sky," he said, dragging out my name with an unconvincing grin.

I arched an eyebrow. "Right. You don't actually expect me to buy that, do you?"

Before anyone could scramble for an excuse, Parker casually blurted out, "We're breaking Nate out of prison."

The room went dead silent.

Eliot pinched the bridge of his nose. "Damn it, Parker."

Parker just shrugged. "What? Well, Nate and the client."

My gaze swept across the group. "Oh? So we have a client now? And no one thought to call me?"

Sophie sighed, offering a placating smile. "It's nothing personal, Sky. We just wanted to give you time to, you know... heal."

I scoffed. "Please. Even with a gunshot wound, I can still take Hardison."

"Hey!" Hardison protested, throwing his hands up.

Eliot chortelt. "Not exactly a high bar."

I crossed my arms. "Look, I'm not sitting a job out just because I got shot. That'd be ridiculous."

The team exchanged glances. They knew me well enough to realize arguing was pointless.

I sank into the sofa, my gaze fixed on the screen as Hardison moved to block part of it, gearing up for one of his info dump briefings. With my good arm, I slipped my comms into my ear, listening in as the team laid out the details.

Hardison gestured to the screen. "Two years ago, Judge Melvoy got himself a safe deposit box—right around the same time he started handing out hard times. And I'm talking citizens, not, you know, people like us."

Parker tilted her head. "Well, Judge Melvoy's not the only one. Four other judges got safe deposit boxes at the exact same time."

Sophie's brows furrowed as she scanned the cases. "There are hundreds here... and these are just the ones we've found."