1 Day Until Deadline

(Getting ready in) Wyndham Manor, England (to make a not-so-innocent visit to the Henley)

Monday morning came early.

Monday morning Hale lied on his bed, still waiting for Uncle Eddie's call.

Monday morning was too late to step out, but it didn't matter because they had made their choice the day in the Wyndham Manor library.

Monday morning it was shown that no matter how dangerous or genius they proved to be, boys were still hormone-crazed teenagers.

"Kat?" Hamish's voice was high, like a girl's. Simon turned and dropped the Ultra Supersonic Maestro Gamma Ray Imaging Device XIV.

Hale followed their gaze up the staircase and felt his lips tug up. His eyes grew comically wide as they trailed down from the very form-fitting white blouse to the exposure of long, smooth legs.

Hale was willing to bet his Monet that the thought that had secretly flashed across his mind many times before was now, for the first time, bursting the brains (and muscles) of the criminal masterminds in the room.

Kat is hot.

Meanwhile, the girl being admired was starting to look distinctly uncomfortable. "What?"

The Bagshaw brothers and Simon were too busy ogling, and Hale was far too entertained to answer.

"Are you guys freaking out on me?" Kat said, her voice going up an octave. "Because today is not the day for freaking out!"

There was still no response. Hale bit his lip to hide a smile.

"What is going on?"

Hale caught the eye of Gabrielle at the entrance of the foyer. They shared an isn't-she-cute look before Gabrielle sauntered into the room. "Now isn't this role more fun than a nun?"

"Kat…you have…legs." Hamish sounded like he was in a trance.

"And boobs," Angus added in awe. He was staring directly at a certain section of Kat's blouse.

Hale gave up trying to subdue his smirk.

"Seriously, Kat, when did you get boobs?"

Hamish looked at Hale. "The boobs are new."

Hale raised his eyebrow and mocked surprise.

"Is that padded?" Simon held out his hand as if to cop an oh-so-scientific feel. Kat slapped his hand away.

"What do you think? C-cup?" Hamish whispered.

"Her dad's gonna get out of prison one of these days, boys," Hale told them, still grinning. Kat's glare told him that he was enjoying the situation far too much.

The kitchen door swung open and Hale's amusement died. Of course, there was New Boy swooping in to spoil the scene every time.

Hale hid his scowl as New Boy walked over to Kat. His gaze didn't waver from her face, which was lucky for him because for several days, Hale had been itching for a chance to punch him in the face.

Hale pushed himself off the railing and caught Kat just as she was heading for the door. When New Boy appeared, he felt his tolerance snap. "You mind?"

New Boy glowered back at him. They both looked to Kat, whose gaze was fixed on Hale, to his pleasure.

When New Boy walked away, Hale felt his smugness vanish. The only things occupying his attention were the two blue eyes locked onto his. The Henley and the crew felt a million miles away. Right now, there was only him and her, two teenagers in an empty hallway.

"Kat," he murmured, savoring the way her name molded his mouth. He put his right palm on the wall behind her and leaned closer until their eyes were inches apart—and their mouths were closer. "I have a bad feeling about this."

She offered him a small smile. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Hale thought he saw a glimmer of regret in her eyes. "It's a little late to stop now, Hale. As you can see, I've already broken out my boobs for the occasion, so—"

"I'm serious, Kat. I don't trust him."

He expected her to move away from him, maybe throw out a sentence in New Boy's defense, and disappear out the door to head the operation.

Kat did none of the three.

Instead, she held his gaze and leaned in closer, until her nose skimmed his. Pale, slim fingers reached out and straightened his collar. They lingered there, before skittering down the sides of his shirt. Hale felt a shiver go through him.

"Trust me."

She turned and began to walk out of the hallway to where New Boy was waiting. But something made her turn back and look at Hale one last time.

"Ten thirty," she reminded him. Her voice sounded small, as if it was coming from a great distance instead of just a few feet. "I'll see you at ten thirty."

Hale gave her a smile. He could still feel the warmth that blazed down his skin from her flittering fingertips. "Oh, I'll be there."

It had been four years ago that Bobby Bishop and his daughter brought Hale on his first heist. The target had been nothing big, just an antiques shop in Iraq.

Apparently, Bobby Bishop had owed a favor to a man whose mother desired a particular item for her Oriental carpet collection. Kat had convinced her father to let Hale tag along. Apart from a slight stumble against a rumpled rug that had everyone nervously awaiting the sound of porcelain shattering, the operation had gone smoothly.

Their first major hit was Credit Suisse, a financial powerhouse in Switzerland. He smiled at the memory. As per thief tradition, he and Kat had been making their way along the prominent European banks. Credit Suisse was a terrifying steel contraption decorated with laser grids, heat sensors, and 140dB alarms, to name just some of half a dozen state-of-the-arts, updated weekly security features.

It was the crown jewel on their list. Hale and Kat had saved it for last and instead targeted the smaller banks around it, prolonging their fear and excitement. When they could put it off no longer, Kat called together the first meeting of the younger generation of thieves. Simon, Gabrielle, the Bagshaw brothers, and the DiMarco triplets (who Hale still couldn't tell apart).

With Uncle Eddie making a cameo appearance, the young thieves had sauntered out of the West Wing of the Credit Suisse bank that day with nine $10,000 bonds.

The money was negligible compared to the Hale family fortune, but that didn't matter. That day, Hale learned the true meaning of friendship and family (and also learned how it felt to successfully break into the most secure bank in the world—amazing).

He learned that friends and family were always there for each other, whether to protect, deliver a warning, listen and give advice, or celebrate an accomplishment.

So when Uncle Eddie finally paid him back a call and told him he had been right about Paris and New Boy, he didn't care if his actions would disrupt the plan Kat had fretted about to the very last detail.

He simply stared coolly at the looming hulk of a museum in front of him, braced himself against the cold, and charged onward to save Kat.

"Slow down," Marcus snapped as the wheelchair hit yet another bump. But Hale paid him no attention because they had just passed through the doorway of the Romani Room.

Hale caught blue eyes from across the room. Blue eyes that were looking at him with barely concealed fury.

"Slow down!" Marcus grumbled again, this time a bit louder. Hale glanced at him—and immediately did a double take. The old man was actually glaring at him, W.W. Hale the Fifth, the son of his employers!

But there was also a warning in those aged gray eyes. Marcus cared about Kat too, Hale remembered. He was reminding Hale that there was a larger game to play and it had already started. Pulling out right then would not save Kat—on the contrary, it might even lead to her demise.

"Let me out of this contraption!" Marcus continued, playing his part as a cantankerous old man to perfection. Hale bantered with him, playing his own role as a dutiful nephew. On the back of his mind, he suspected Marcus was rather enjoying the opportunity to order about his bosses' son, but that thought was quickly buried by a more pressing concern.

I need to talk to you, he tried to convey to Kat.

Her eyes radiated annoyance. Stick to the plan.

And then the bumbling buffoon that was Gregory Wainwright arrived, and the siren went off, and he and Marcus were dragged outside.

Leaving Kat and his hope to save her still inside.

Hale ignored the furious and terrified director and now-silent "Uncle" Marcus beside him. Apparently, the singed grass on Wyndham Manor had not been for naught. The Bagshaw brothers had done a spectacular job of setting the Henley on fire.

Another achievement to be listed on their job résumé, Hale thought humorlessly.

He glared at the burning Henley, as if through his scorching gaze, he would be able to melt a hole in the concrete wall big enough for him to jump in and rescue Kat.

Later, it would seem like he had spent hours outside watching the dark smoke rise and listening to Wainwright babble hysterically on the phone. A makeshift wheelchair was brought in for Marcus. A few fire trucks and police cars piled in, but like the director had said, there was nothing to do but wait for the oxygen deprivation measures to beat down the fire.

Reporters flooded onto the scene and tested the limits of the yellow tape separating the crowd outside and the suffering museum. A few were curious to know what the young billionaire W.W. Hale the Fifth had to say about the incident, but he just brushed them away like flies.

Hale cursed New Boy's presense and Uncle Eddie's tardy phone call. He cursed the slippery Visily Romani, Kat's obstinacy, and Gregory Wainwright's fire protection measures. He cursed himself for not abandoning his role earlier in the Henley, for not insisting during their planning sessions that he stick with her, for encouraging Kat in Vienna to disobey Uncle Eddie.

Most of all, he cursed Arturo Taccone. He hoped, oh how he hoped with all his heart that the bastard would get his share of the suffering he caused Kat, her family, and so many other people out there.

But for now, there was nothing to do but wait. Hale shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Nothing to do but wait and trust in Kat.

Hale wasn't supposed to run when they finally came out. He wasn't supposed to sweep Kat up in a hug or press his cheek against her thick black hair.

After all, Hales were too dignified to do any of those things. Plus, he wasn't supposed to cause a scene, not when the game was finally ending.

But Hale was a veteran rebel against the phrase supposed-to-be. In any case, it made life a heck of a lot more interesting.

He finally released his hold around Kat—her face was as pink as Chinook salmon, he noted with pleasure— and leaned against his limo to get a better look at her. There was a bit of dust scattered on her clothes, but she was otherwise unscathed.

"Kat's fine," a familiar snarky voice said. "So are the rest of us, if you were wondering."

Hale felt his cheeks redden and he glared at the smirking blonde. He glanced at the rest of the crew; Simon was a little pale, the Bagshaw brothers had Cheshire cat grins on their faces.

"Hey, where's New Boy?"

"Got ditched," Gabrielle answered simply before ducking inside the limo.

Hale looked at Kat, who smiled slightly. Her eyes were still sad, though.

Hale frowned. She didn't miss New Boy that much, did she?

Then he noticed the four blank canvasses. Angus, Hamish, Gabrielle, and Simon each held one, but Kat's hands were empty.

"The last one wasn't there," she said softly. Hale held the door for her as she slipped into the limo. Their legs touched as Hale sat next to her. The car started, and Kat's head dropped onto Hale's shoulder.

It was only two weeks ago that they had been sitting in the limo together. Only two weeks ago since Hale had busted Kat from the Colgan School. Somehow, it felt longer.

"I'm glad," Kat murmured suddenly. Her lips brushed his ear, sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. "Girl Praying to Saint Nicholas deserves better than being Taccone's prisoner."

"But what about your dad?" he asked.

She didn't answer.

In fact, Kat was silent during the rest of the car ride. Her eyes closed somewhere along the way, but her eyelids fluttered every few moments. Hale didn't question her further.

Gabrielle, Simon, and the Bagshaw brothers filled Hale in on the events that had occurred at the Henley. Without so much as a glance at Kat, Gabrielle skipped over Nick and headed straight to the part where Gregory Wainwright had burst in with the security guards.

"The faint was prearranged, remember?" Simon protested against their snickers.

"Yeah, but not a real faint."

"I was fake fainting!"

"Dude, you did a real faint," Angus told him.

"We were right there, remember?" Hamish added.

Simon glanced at Gabrielle.

"Well, anyway, you saved us from the guards," Gabrielle said.

Simon turned pink. Hale stared at the blond supermodel, who was studying her nails with a bored expression on her face.

Hale wasn't fooled. As his mind ran through all the encounters between Simon and Gabrielle in the past week, he became more and more convinced that Simon's crush wasn't one-sided. Not at all.

His lips tugged up in a smirk and Hale made a mental note to pay Gabrielle back for playing matchmaker to him and Kat.

As the limo pulled up to Wyndham Manor, Kat's eyes snapped open. Her back straightened. Hale observed the new sparkle in the seas of blue.

"The paintings don't belong to Arturo Taccone," she said, talking more to herself than anyone else. Hale remembered she had said the same thing a few days ago on Abiram Stein's doorstep and wondered what Kat was planning.

Marcus opened the door. Without missing a step, Kat slid out of the limo and called over her shoulder, "Book the next plane to Paris, Marcus."

Hale stared after her retreating back. He should've expected it, but instead, he felt disappointment crashing down on him. So that's that.

Suddenly, a few steps onto the lawn, Kat stopped. As if feeling Hale's gaze, she turned and looked straight back at him.

Time slowed down. Every sound faded until Hale heard only his racing heart. Thump. Thump.

Pale, beautiful blue. Restless blue that flew across the sky and sailed the tumultuous sea. Blue, the color of earth.

Hale didn't think he'd ever get used to the tingling feeling he got when Kat looked at him, whether she was seeing him as a friend, an accomplice, or—dare he hope—a potential boyfriend?

"Hale." His name fell gracefully off her tongue. "Do you…want to come?"

Hale smiled. With a few long strides, he met Kat on the lawn and took her slim hand.

"You can always count me in, remember?"

Author's Note:

THIS FANFIC IS FINALLY COMPLETE. :o

I was wondering how I should finish, and then it hit me that when Kat tips off Taccone to Interpol and Hale picks her up afterwards, they're in Paris. Together.

I don't know, maybe I'm reading into this too much, but remember how throughout the story, Kat flies to Paris solo and Hale greets her coldly afterward every time? But in the end, when she meets Taccone for the last time, Hale comes with her, showing that Kat and Hale are on the same page.

(At least for the time being. *sigh* Uncommon Criminals…)

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this last chapter.

Before posting this, I went back and made a few revisions/edits to the previous chapters. I have to say that I'm rather pleased with the final product. ^-^ Every review, favorite, and follow for this story has made me incredibly happy. I can't say how grateful I have been for everyone's support. Thanks for reading!

I have no plans for writing Hale's POV for the other books, but that doesn't mean I'm leaving Heist Society fanfiction. ;) Who knows?