Disclaimer: I don't own Bones and any profit that I make from writing about it is entirely non-monetary.
A/N: Tag to 1x13: "The Woman in the Garden." I've always thought that there's a lot of potential for a story about Max that takes place behind the scenes of Season One. Since I'm unlikely to ever write that fic, however, here's a short one-shot starring our favorite ex-convict; it's been sitting on my computer for a quite while and desperately needs some fresh air. ;-)
Max Keenan still keeps his ear to the ground when it comes to his kids. There was a time when it was too risky to use his contacts to keep an eye on them, but that time has passed. Less people are actively searching for him these days, which means that he can afford to make his presence known in the criminal community.
He goes under a series of aliases, of course; his current identity is 'Chris Bussman', an homage to his old code name. And everywhere he goes, he continues to expand his intelligence network. Some of his contacts know who he really is, many of them don't, but they all know that he's interested in information on Russ or Temperance Brennan.
So when one of his sources, Jack the Beanstalk, as he calls himself (and what the hell kind of name is that, anyway?), tells him that he's got some important news, Max arranges to meet with him at once.
"Hey, Chris," Jack says. "Dunno if you've heard, but Ortez just put a hit out on Keenan's kid."
Max's face tightens and his eyes grow flinty. "Which one?" he asks.
"The girl."
Tempe.
His little girl.
His blood runs cold with fear, then hot with anger. How dare that bastard try anything? Max Keenan's kids are off-limits, everyone knows that.
He must have been clenching his fists, because Jack throws his hands up and says, "Hey, don't blame me, I'm just the messenger. Speaking of which…"
Right. Payment.
He tosses two twenties at the man, then stalks away. If he'd stayed there a minute longer he might have hit the guy. Because his daughter's in danger, and all this fucking idiot cares about is money.
He has a trip to make.
It takes him a bit under a day to reach the headquarters of Mara Muerte but it feels longer. Each minute stretches into eternity, an eternity in which he may already be too late. He can barely hear himself think over the frantic pounding of his heart. Be alive, Tempe. For God's sake, be alive.
He hasn't decided what he's going to do to Ortez yet, but it's not gonna be pleasant. The guy's got to learn.
By the time he's staked out a corner to wait for Ortez, his world has narrowed down to a single point. He's focused and alert.
So when Ortez comes around the corner, he pounces without hesitation.
"What the hell?" Ortez growls, reaching for his gun.
Fortunately, Max is stronger, and he manages to pin the guy against the alley wall.
"This is my neighborhood. I don't know who you are, but you don't have jurisdiction here," Ortez continues, still trying to free himself.
Max doesn't question how the man knows he's into illegal activities; in this kind of business, you learn to read people real fast or you don't survive. He just hopes that this leader's smart.
"You will remove the hit on Temperance Brennan," he informs the man, almost pleasantly.
"How many men is that bitch sleeping with?" Ortez exclaims incredulously.
"Excuse me?" Max asks, voice dangerous. He tightens his hold on the man's throat for a second.
Switching tactics, Ortez gasps, "After that agent threatened me, did you really think I wouldn't keep my word? Well, you can tell him that the hit's been called off, so he needs to call off his dogs."
Interesting.
"The hit's been called off?" he asks, staring Ortez down.
"¡Sí!"
"If you're lying to me…" Max begins warningly.
"'s truth."
"…or if anything happens to her, I will hunt you down and kill you. And it won't be short; you'll be begging for death before I'm through with you."
"I understand," Ortez wheezes.
"I don't think you do," Max says casually, but there's steel in his tone. "I can make your life hell before I send you there, and I won't think twice. I won't feel even the slightest twinge of remorse. So you'd better pray to your God that nothing happens to that woman."
Ortez nods his head jerkily in comprehension.
Max whips out a knife and saws off Ortez's smallest finger before the man even realizes what's happening.
"There, we have a blood contract, now," Max says coldly. "Renege on it and this will only be the beginning."
With that, he strolls back to his car, senses still on high alert.
And as he drives back to his current hideout, Max makes a mental note to find out the identity of the agent who got his daughter off of Mara Muerte's hit list. Law enforcement officer or not, he owes the man one.
Still, Max figures it's just as well he came down here to chat with Ortez; the guy might've gone back on his word otherwise.
And no one messes with Max Keenan's kids.
No one.