He was stopped just as he was getting ready to leave for lunch.

Gang unit picked up some new info. Ortez had put a hit out on Brennan.

For all of five minutes Booth felt his body go slack. He followed in his mind her close call earlier when they had been shot at. Her fearless approach to dealing with suspects. Her stories about the dangers she had faced overseas. The things that she had seen. Things she had been through.

It was a miracle she was even here to be his partner. And his partner was being targeted by a piece of scum who had been humiliated by her. He hated people like Ortez with a passion. People who could so boldly proclaim what they did as part of organized crime and still be untouchable. He had irked him even more than Bones but he had remained steady because their victim deserved justice. But now? After they had solved her murder? He was under no obligation to overlook this.

His phone chirped up with a reminder that he needed to be at a funeral in a few hours. His first instinct was to ignore the reminder and pay Ortez a visit. But soon he realised that that wasn't what was needed. He didn't need face to face with this scumbag to show him exactly who he was messing with.

He would keep his funeral commitments. He would offer to drive Bones there and back to her house, maybe stop on the way at Sids for dinner. Making sure she was settled for the night he would order a surveillance team on her block and wait for the night to settle.

But first he needed to make a call.

The seedy underground club meet didn't sit well with Booth but he agreed with his contact that this was the best place to meet.

The equipment and its delivery at the specified location was to be handled very carefully. He couldn't take any of his FBI-ness into this. This had to be off the books. Completely.

No one threatened his Bones.

Climbing the last rung of the fire escape Booth arrived at the apartment floor he had commandeered. His target was due to arrive, according to the gang unit, in about an hour. Just enough time to set up.

Dressed in dark fatigues and combat boots. He looked a far cry from Special Agent Seeley Booth. He took his place at the vantage point and sighted the target location with his binoculars. Seven blocks away. Only a slight gap between two buildings granted him the view of the room he was scoping out. He had already planted a phone in the room and now all had to do was wait for the fucker to show up.

Turning to the long box shoved under the bed. Pulling it out he opened it up to look at the deadly weapon that lay inside. There was a time when he would have admired the machine. Carresed it maybe. Enjoyed piecing together the rifle. This wasn't one of those times. He clinicly inspected each and every one of the components that assembled into the rifle. He meticulously put the entire thing together in record time and snapped the scope up on top.

Walking to the ledge he placed the stand of the rifle on the sill and leaned down to look through tne viewfinder. He was still early. Dragging the bed over to the window he aimed the sniper right at his target and lay perfectly still on the mattress belly down. Prone. Waiting.

Waiting.

There was a slam of a door two floors down. He didn't flinch. Two spiders from the filthy duvet crawled up his arm. He didn't flinch. Ortez walked in the door flanked by two Mara Muerte's. He didn't flinch.

He tracked the bastard with his scope as he moved through the floor. Three windows on Booth's side allowed him to track the man as he sauntered through the doors of the establishment and grabbed two of the dancing girls. They barely seemed sixteen.

Both seemed terrified but resigned to their fate as he dragged them to a private room. The room where Booth had planted the phone. With a clear view of his disgusting face, Booth watched as Ortez ordered the girls to dance as he lounged in the sofa next to the open window. Grabbing a beer next to him he sipped it as he ordered the girls to strip.

Hooking the Bluetooth ear piece on, he dialed the number of the phone he had planted next to Ortez, took aim and fired. He didn't even smirk as the bottle in his hand shattered and the near naked girls screamed and took cover.

Ortez swore and reached for his gun and Booth fired once more hitting his gun hand and shattering his wrist or as Bones would put it, his scaphoid, trapezium and trapezoid.

He screamed this time dropping the gun even as the phone rang louder next to him. Finally after a prolonged scream which alerted the henchmen at the door he picked up the phone.

"Hey, Ortez." he muttered his voice measured and calculated. "You can't see me, you won't ever see me." He aimed once more as the two henchmen burst in. A shot to one guys capula and the next to the others clavicle and both went down with non lethal injuries. He could see Ortez almost piss himself as he frantically looked around.

"Who the fuck is this!" he screamed into the phone as the girls rushed out of the room.

"You know who this is," he replied calmly even as he exploded the bottle next to his head making him scream again. "You put a hit out on my partner. Take the order down or the next time I won't miss. You have two hours." He cut off the phone.

He watched through the scope as Ortez swore once more, his hand bleeding profusely as he looked around the room at the carnage taken place in the last two minutes. He looked down the phone in his hand in abject terror for two seconds before Booth pulled the trigger one last time and the phone exploded in his hand sending plastic shrapnel into his face ripping into his already scarred, disgusting face.

He finally smiled as Ortez ran like the espirito Santo was chasing him. His work done, he packed up his gun shoving it back under the bed, climbed down the firescape and got into his car.

Fifteen minutes later he got confirmation. The hit had been called of and he could finally sleep easy.

Bones was safe.