Disclaimer: I don't own The Losers at all, just two characters that make an appearance in this one-shot. Originally, this was supposed to be a full-blown fic but my muse died shortly after I finished this so all you get is a one-shot. Sorry! Parker was inspired by Tolour from Oceans 12, so there is reference to his crimes (though as being Parker's, hence the title as there were nine named) so I don't own them and Parker from Leverage was the look I had in mind. Read and review, and enjoy!

9 CRIMES

LAS VEGAS

"Clay. I've got a lock on the target," came Cougar's voice in Clay's earpiece.

"I know. I'm looking right at him," he replied, aiming his gun at a terrified looking man. When he thought about it, the man had every right to be terrified as it wasn't just one gun trained on him. No, there were three others.

"So this is the famous Parker, huh? The one that's gonna help us find Max?" Pooch questioned sarcastically, turning a dry eye to Aisha.

"What?" she snapped. Clay rolled his eyes. Here they go…

As Aisha and Pooch went at it, with Jensen throwing in a few side comments, Clay smirked and looked at Parker. Needless to say, the man was not what he or the others were expecting. They had been expecting a man like them, fit and ready for a fight. A man who would, at least, be carrying some kind of weaponry on his person. From what they saw, this bloated, overweight, and profusely sweating balding ball of nerves before them didn't even have mace on him, let alone a gun or knife. This was their key to Max? This guy sure as hell didn't look like a master thief of any kind to him, unless he was stealing from the local donut shop. That seemed more likely. According to Aisha, this guy was said to be the best of the best, top dog. Apparently, Parker had hit the Bank of Geneva, the Danish Treasury, the Bank of Italy, the Brussels Diamond Exchange, and the Antwerp Diamond Exchange before going into an art phase. He hit the Tate in London, the Louvre in Paris, twice, and the Prado before moving on to bigger and better things. Aisha's personal favorite was that Parker had stolen the king of Morocco's yacht, vanished into thin air. The crew surfaced a few days later in a life raft, unable to remember anything, and if the king knew how Parker had hid his yacht, he certainly wasn't telling. Apparently, the yacht was returned a month later and now Parker is good friends with the king. According to Aisha, the king's phone records are filled with calls to an unknown, completely blocked number. Parker. After Jensen worked his magic, they traced the number to Vegas and to the man sitting before them.

"Clay!" Cougar shouted in his ear. Aggravated, Clay touched his earpiece and turned from the argument.

"What?"

"I've got a lock on Parker," he repeated.

"I heard you the first time, Cougar. We've got him covered."

"No, you don't."

"Hey, Losers!" Clay shouted and the trio immediately shut up, turning to stare at him – or glare, in Aisha's case. Sighing, he calmly turned his attention back to Cougar, "All right, now, what the hell are you talking about?"

"You don't have a lock on Parker," he explained.

"And why do you say that?" There was some muffled movement through the earpiece and tapped it once more. "Cougar? What did you mean we don't have a lock?"

"Your friend – Cougar, was it? – he meant you don't have a lock on Parker, because Parker has a lock on him."

Clay froze and turned to look at the others, who also heard everything through their own earpieces, and paled. Immediately, Jensen apologized to the man on his knees before shooting him with a tranquilizer. Before the man thudded to the ground, Clay and the rest of his team were at the expansive windows, eyes drawn to the roof of the skyscraper across the street. They could clearly make out two figures and the one standing over the one laying on the ground was most definitely Parker, who most definitely had a gun trained on Cougar. Parker, looking through a handheld scope, smirked at the four people inside the building and waved mockingly. Soldiers, they were just so easy to trick and fuck with, she thought to herself. This had been almost too easy, practically child's play for her.

"Now," she said in a bored tone, sitting down on the edge of the building, gun still aimed at Cougar, and inspecting her nails, "what exactly is it that I can help you with, Lt. Col. Franklin Clay?" One leg was dangling off the side of the building, swinging easily as if she was in no danger of falling at all. Hell, Parker knew she wasn't in any danger and smirked a little.

Clay groaned a little, hearing his former U.S. Marine Corps title. As he stared out the window, he vaguely heard the other three Losers with him arguing about Parker. The real Parker, who was across the way with a gun trained on their sniper. Pooch was blaming everything on Aisha, who was just about ready to slit Pooch's throat, while Jensen was trying to play mediator between the two. Clay was certain he heard the techie say, "Can't we all just get along?" That made him smirk but it quickly vanished as she thought about the voice and stared at the figure.

"Oh, Christ," he groaned, running a hand over his head. The soft chuckling in his ear snapped him out of it and he took a deep breath. "So this is how you treat old friends, Holly? That's not even your name is it? Holly Bennet?" Looking over at his team, he sighed at the stares before looking back out the window.

She laughed again, "No, it's not. Jezzie Parker," she introduced. "Couldn't very well be giving on my real name to every guy that catches my fancy. Oh, and before we go any further - friends? That not exactly how I remember it. Do friends typically fuck each other senseless for an entire week then get a bomb slipped between one of the two's sheets? Me being the one, if memory serves."

"Hey!" he shouted, jabbing his finger on the glass as if she was actually before him and would be poking her. "That bomb was not because of me! It was because of you! You and your job, if you can even call it that," he sneered.

At first, he had believed the bomb had been because of him. Way before Max, he and the boys had been on a job in Cairo. It was small, but what she had been doing there made him curious. Well, Clay being Clay, he just couldn't let an All-American "girl next door" type walk around Cairo all by herself. She could've gotten hurt or worse, especially since she was brazen enough to walk around without her face covered. The locals didn't take too kindly to that. So, after a week of getting to know each other rather intimately, it had been a bit of a shock when her little apartment exploded. Especially, since they were both still in it. He'd never found her body, assuming that she had been dead, but the next day was all about revenge, and getting the job they were paid to do done, so he enjoyed every minute of the blood bath that occured almost twenty-four hours later. When he asked the head honcho of the group they were after why he killed Holly, he claimed that he had no idea what he was talking about. Back then, Clay hadn't believed him but, if everything Aisha told them about Parker was true, then it made more sense for the bomb to have been one of her enemies rather than his.

"I may not be the most legally-minded person, Clay, but at least I don't land myself in jail or, you know, am basically blacklisted from these glorious United States and living in some shithole south of the border."

"So you've done your research." He wasn't surprised. Not at all.

"I always do my research," she stated, a little too proud for his liking. Off to the side, he heard Pooch say to Aisha, "Nice to know someone who does" before she smacked him. "What else did you expect me to do? Just sit around and wait for you to get yourself killed? I figured your new girl would try to track me down so I set up a few phony phone calls and that poor bastard you knocked out? Well, he's a former client of mine, owed me a favor. Couldn't have this going down on your terms." Hearing sirens, the blonde looked over the edge of the building and saw a couple cop cars pull up outside the building Clay and his team were in. Parker sighed, "You men, you're always getting into some kind of trouble." Parker paused and looked down at Cougar. Rolling her eyes, she lowered the gun and waved for him to get up. Cautiously, he did so, eyes on her the whole time. When he was certain she wouldn't do anything, he held out his hand. "What?" she asked him, confused. He jerked his hand and she finally understood, sighing. "Clay, your mime wants his toy back so I've got to go. If you really want my services, just come to my summer home. It's in Lake Como. I'm sure you and your crew are talented enough to get there. I'll give you three days. If you aren't there by then...well, I'm sure you can guess." Smirking, Parker tossed the earpiece back to Cougar and ran over to the other side of the building before jumping off. Cougar quickly ran over to see, not really sure what to think, until he saw the cables.

"Cougar! Cougar!" Clay shouted and the sniper put the piece back in his ear. "Cougar!"

"Here, sir."

"You okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where is she?" Cougar looked over the side of the building and shrugged.

"Gone."

"Goddammit!" she cursed, punching the window. "All right, Losers. New plan. We get out of here and get to Lake Como, wherever that is."

"Italy, boss," Jensen stated helpfully. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, clearly exicted by the prospect of going to Italy.

"There's just one problem," Cougar stated.

"Oh, yeah? And what's that?" Clay sighed, not really sure he wanted to know.

"Cops pulled up about two minutes ago. She must've tipped them off."

Behind them, Clay heard a can fall into the room. Gas. Sighing, Clay looked at the others and covered their faces as best they could before Jensen of Pooch rigged up some kind of propelling device for them. Looking at Aisha, who was glaring at him and coughing, Clay shook his head. Women, they really were more trouble then they were worth. As soon as Jensen and Pooch gave the ready, the group shot out the windows and jumped. Just another day for the Loser.