Author's note: This is my first fanfic story. All constructive criticism is appreciated and encouraged.
Warning: This story contains scenes of torture, childhood and adult sexual assault. If this bothers you, please don't read the story.
Disclaimer: I do own a 1975 Torino, but I don't own Starsky or Hutch-I wish I did, they're so much fun to play with. I take responsibility for my bad boys, Suko and Vinetti, and my good girl, Bree. Feel free to play with them, but keep the boys on a tight leash.
Acknowledgement: To my beta reader, britwizz. Thank you for your many hours in helping this story reach its full potential. The cheesecake is on me.
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A Sister's Love
Chapter 1
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"I'm afraid we have a problem, sir."
"Problems, as you call them Jenkins, are not my concern."
The last speaker leaned back in his chair and blew out a thick cloud of cigarette smoke, watching it slowly diffuse. A solid gold nameplate engraved with "Benjamin T. Rothman" sat on the stylish desk in front of him in an office surrounded by ornate walls and twelve foot high ceilings. Various oil paintings and art sculptures added to the room's elegance.
The man sitting behind the desk enjoyed a privileged life. Body massages and manicures regularly showered his agenda, and the tailored suits he wore came imported from Italy. His hair was graying, but meticulously styled and trimmed, and accentuated his tanned facial features. But he had not always been so prosperous.
"Benny" Rothman had been kicked out of his father's house while still in his teens, but quickly caught on to the economic laws of street survival. Starting as a drug courier and numbers runner, he had clawed his way up the syndicate ladder, inch by bloody inch, until achieving his present position.
Those within the consortium's inner circle respected him, but while many saw this 'respect' as fear, Rothman didn't care how it was interpreted. People did as he ordered; the careful and meticulous way he chose his subordinates guaranteed this. Many had learned it was healthier to work for, rather than against him, and the callous way he punished failure kept the drug lord comfortably high in the syndicate's ranks. But Rothman loathed the times when his subordinates failed him; his position necessitated making money for the consortium. Time spent solving problems was precious—and better spent in more industrious pursuits. Taking note of Jenkins' insinuation, Rothman felt his temper beginning to seethe.
"Sir, I'm sorry to report…we've just lost the Hernandez shipment." Jenkins braced for his boss's reaction, and with good reason. He had seen people shot over less.
"Jenkins, did I just hear you correctly? Are you referring to the shipment I explicitly put you in charge of? "
"Yes sir, that one," Jenkins answered, his voice slightly breaking. "It seems the police were tipped off. They've confiscated the entire shipment, and arrested three of our people."
The explosive sound of Rothman's fist hitting the desk made Jenkins jump. "Are you telling me I've just lost a half million dollar shipment!" Rothman's face flushed as blood rushed in. "I put you in charge of that order because I thought it was something you could handle. Obviously, it wasn't!" His voice echoed off the walls, magnifying the intensity of his anger.
"Sir! We know who the snitch was. I promise he'll be dead before tomorrow." Jenkins waited breathlessly for Rothman's verdict.
"What kind of bullshit excuse is that? So you knock off some piece of crap. What about my money!" Rothman was now standing, poised like a bulldog ready to attack.
"Mr. Rothman, we also know the names of two detectives this snitch sang to. I don't think this is the first time these cops have caused us…problems." Jenkins' heart thumped wildly as he clung to this last chance at redemption. Disposing of cops smart enough to intercept Rothman's drug shipments could be worth a lot of money. If this didn't quell his boss's anger, nothing else would.
"Two cops?" Rothman slowly settled back into his leather chair. Looking at Jenkins with inquiring eyes, he said, "Good ones? Partners?"
"Yes, sir. They're very good, and I do believe they work together."
"Okay—you get rid of that snitch tonight. I want to read about it in the morning's paper. As for the cops, I want them taken out." Rothman's tone sounded smooth, almost casual.
"Yes sir." Jenkins fought the urge to take in some deep breaths, afraid his boss would notice. He hadn't taken many in the last few moments and now his lungs were begging for more oxygen.
"Oh, Jenkins—" The man's heart sank. He had been Rothman's assistant and hired gun for nearly ten years. But now, Jenkins feared it might his turn to be on the wrong end of a barrel. "—I've had a second thought."
"Anything, sir."
"Don't kill those cops right away. Bring one of them to our city dock building, as healthy as you can. Is that clear?" Rothman took a long, last drag on his cigarette, then snuffed out the burning end into a green marble ashtray. The gold pinkie ring on his outstretched finger glittered briefly as it caught a hint of sunlight.
"Of course. Just one?"
"Yes. Where the one goes, the other will want to follow. He won't be interested in anything else until he finds his partner."
Rothman was often in contention with the police, viewing them as another gang intent on taking over his territory. He knew there were good cops and bad. The good ones were the hardest to deal with. They were so judgmental, always seeing things as black or white, never grey. Most possessed an impenetrable bond, formed by the constant need to protect each other's back. But that same bond was also a weakness, and Rothman knew how to exploit it.
Continuing his train of thought, Rothman added, "That should give us time to arrange for another shipment, and for me to decide how I'm going to extract payment. And Jenkins?" Rothman gave him a deathly cold stare, "Don't screw this up."
"No, sir." Jenkins turned and quickly walked out of the office. His superior wouldn't tolerate any more mistakes, even ones he wasn't responsible for.
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The young woman stood outside the front door of Rachel Starsky's house, summoning up the courage to knock. Fifteen years ago, she had walked out that same door intending to never return. Several devastating events had precipitated her departure, all occurring within a short period of time—the loss of a father, the absence of an admired brother, and a younger brother slipping into an oblivion of self pity. Wanting to escape the turmoil engulfing the comfortable refuge she'd known as home, she had decided to leave. But in doing so, she'd inadvertently hurt the one person most responsible for saving her from an even earlier hell. Excuses set aside now, she had to see Rachel. She owed nearly two decades of atonement to this woman who'd not only taken her into her home when she was ten years old, but also legally adopted her.
"Breanna! Oh, my goodness, it's you!"
Bree burst into tears the moment Rachel recognized her and threw open the screen door to grab and embrace the prodigal daughter. She hadn't expected the compassion Rachel immediately showered on her, and felt relieved that she still had family who loved her. Once inside the warm home, Bree apologized profusely for all the hurt and heartache she caused when she left. She then spent hours describing to her mother how life had slowly taught her the importance of family and unconditional love. She also desperately wanted to know how her two brothers were doing.
Sitting at the kitchen table, talking well into the night, Rachel recounted everything she knew of her sons' lives. Sadly, nothing about Nicky's situation really surprised Bree, but she was amazed at David's story. Somewhat relieved she'd never known he had fought in Vietnam, she was shocked to hear he was now a police detective in California. Davey, what were you thinking? Dad was a cop and he got shot dead, practically on our doorstep! Why on earth would you want to go and do the same thing?
Bree picked up a photograph, one of many lying scattered on the table that Rachel had gathered earlier to show her. This one showed two men standing together on the beach. Bree instantly recognized her brother's lopsided smile. David looked well, and happy. A different person than when she had last seen him, hurt and angry at the world, still grieving over their father's death.
"Bree? Breanna!" Rachel could tell that her daughter hadn't heard anything she'd said.
"What? Oh, I'm sorry, Mom. I just wandered off. What were you saying?" Bree hoped the woman hadn't turned into a mind reader.
"You never were a good liar, little one." Rachel said in a gently scolding manner. "It's about Davey being a cop, yes?"
Bree sighed, hesitating a moment. Thoughts of times better left forgotten churned around in her head. "It's just that after what happened to Pop, I can't believe he would want to be one. Doesn't he realize how dangerous it can be?"
"Davey loved his papa, your father. He always wanted to make him proud. Your father gave his life—"
"Pop didn't give his life away, it was taken from him!" snapped Bree. Rachel may have chosen to live in denial, but there was no way she was going to.
Seeing her child's hurt still festering, Rachel carefully worded her response. "Bree, this pain, it serves no purpose. We cannot change the past. Your father loved what he did. He realized every day he was out there working, he was doing something good. He loved each one of you, and knew this was how he could make you feel safe and happy."
"I know what you're saying, Mom, but why can't Davey do something else? There's plenty of jobs where he can help people and not have to risk his life every day to do it." Bree angrily pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. Trying to cool off, she walked over to the counter and poured a cup of coffee.
"I felt much the same way when I first married your papa," Rachel said, trying to empathize. "I can't answer your questions. But this job, it's a calling and needs a special person. Davey is special. He's a good cop. You know, he has a good partner, too. Someone who loves and cares about him very much."
Bree's jaw dropped slightly. "Are you saying Davey is gay?"
Rachel let out a laugh. "No, no, little angel! I don't mean like that. His partner though, he would do anything to keep Davey safe, and your brother feels the same way about him."
Not entirely convinced, Bree asked, "So what's the name of this guardian angel?"
"Ken. Ken Hutchinson. And you are probably closer to the truth than you realize."
"What do you mean?" Bree knew her mom could exaggerate at times, but Ken Hutchinson sounded too good to be true.
"A few years ago, Ken called me. Davey was in the hospital because someone had tried to poison him."
Bree let out a small gasp; this wasn't what she wanted to hear.
"When Ken found the scum who did it, Davey killed the man, even though he was the only one who knew what was in the poison. So why did he do this? I tell you. It was because that snake was ready to shoot Ken! Phewpt! I spit on that coward's grave!" Rachel's tone had turned livid, but then softened when she added, "So, you see? Davey cared about him that much."
"Oh, Mom! So, was the poison deadly? I mean, how did he survive?"
"Poor Davey—he got very sick. But Ken found more of the awful stuff in time so the doctors could give Davey an antidote." Rachel visibly shuddered. "It still makes my stomach turn to think about it."
"That's…an incredible story." Bree could feel her stomach turning also. Yeah Mom, Davey's special. Thinking for a long moment, she asked, "So Ken would do the same for Davey?"
"Yes! In a heartbeat!" Rachel's face took on a pensive look. "I think sometimes, Davey doesn't tell me everything, so I don't worry about him. Oh, if he only knew!"
Looking through more pictures, Bree compared the two partners. Her brother, with his dark brown, softly curled hair, tanned skin and strong facial features, and Ken with his straight blond hair, gentle Nordic looks and fairer skin. They seemed on the surface a very unlikely duo, but from the stories Rachel had told that evening, that assumption was far from the truth.
"You know, malekh, you should go see your brother."
"Davey? In California?" Bree felt uneasy about Rachel's suggestion. How could she expect Davey to understand her absence after all this time? It had taken every bit of strength to seek absolution from Rachel. But mothers were genetically wired for that; they always loved their children, no matter what. Davey didn't have that obligation. He could just as easily tell her to go to hell.
"What is it, my little one? You don't think your brother would be happy to see you?"
"I don't know, Mom. Davey…well, he may not be as understanding as you."
"Phooey! You don't know your brother! He is not the same boy you knew twenty years ago. He is a man. A fine man, and with a big heart! If he knew you were here, he would jump on the first plane just to come see you." Leaning across the table, Rachel continued. "You already know this. Go. Go and see him. Talk. You will see. Here." She grabbed her purse from off of the kitchen counter. Reaching inside, she pulled out her wallet and slipped a checkbook from its thick center.
"Mom! No! What are you doing? I can't take that!" Bree tried taking the pen out of her mother's hand, but Rachel just scooted back in her chair.
"Who are you to tell her mother what she can and can't do?" After signing the check, she tried to hand it to her daughter, who refused to touch it. Rachel laid it on the table, and took both of Bree's hands into hers, staring lovingly into her eyes. "You don't know how happy you made me tonight. I always prayed for you, that you were well and safe. I know you think that Davey would not want to see you, but you are wrong Bree. Please trust me on this." Picking the check up, she said, "Here. You take this to the bank tomorrow, and you buy a ticket and go see your brother."
"But what about Nicky? Shouldn't I see him, too?"
"Ah, Nicky. Yes, he calls now and then. Mother's Day, or when he needs money. He never tells me where he lives, what he does. I guess I am happy he remembers me at all. You know, Nicky blames Davey for leaving, but I was the one who sent him away." Rachel cast her eyes down. It wasn't hard to see the pain hidden behind those words. "So, I take what Nicky gives me. Even though I wish he would just call a little more often, yes?"
"Mom…I'm sure he loves you." Bree cringed inside. Apparently, Nicky hadn't changed much, but then who was she to judge? At least he hadn't waited fifteen years to call.
"Oh, he loves his momma. But he loves too many things that can't love him back. Nicky can wait. Go see Davey, yes?" The pleading look on Rachel's face and her twinkling eyes were too much to resist.
"Okay, Mom, you win. But promise me you won't call him first and tell him I'm coming." Emphasizing her point, Bree pointed her finger at Rachel.
"Cross my heart and hope not to cry! Oh, my little bird, you will see. Then you can tell me later how your momma, she was right. Yes?"
"Yes, momma."
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The police squad room was bustling with activity, uncommon for so late in the morning. A successful bust around dawn had resulted in the confiscation of a large cocaine shipment and numerous personnel had been called in to help. Starsky and Hutch were the lead investigators in the arrest and now sat basking in the good graces of not only their superior, Captain Dobey, but the mayor and commissioner as well. Unfortunately, they were also sitting in front of typewriters, trying to produce the mound of paperwork needed for when the case eventually went to trail. But the two partners could cherish one fact; at least today the chance of an ass-chewing from their boss was slim.
"Starsky?" Hutch had watched his partner gobble down two donuts and start on a third in the last five minutes. He was growing tired of sweeping powdered sugar off of his paperwork.
"Ummph?" Starsky mumbled, floury mix still stuck in his mouth.
As one more bit of powdery glob landed on his report, Hutch had enough. "Starsky! Quit dropping food all over the place! And go wash that stuff off your mouth. You look like you've been sampling the evidence."
"Hey!" As Starsky finished gobbling down the last morsels, he wiped his mouth off with his sleeve, then added, "I'll have you know this is the first thing I've eaten since five o'clock this morning, which was the exact time you woke me up saying that shipment was coming in. You know I can't function without sugar."
Dryly, Hutch said, "Starsk, your body's already a walking candy machine. If it had any more sugar, you could package it into five pound bags and sell it in a grocery store. Why can't you eat a real breakfast?"
"I wanted to stop and eat before we came back here, but you said you weren't hungry."
"You were ready to pull through the drive-thru at McDonald's! That's not my idea of breakfast, Starsky."
"Well, the day they put in fast food restaurants serving desiccated liver and seaweed shakes, that's when this partnership of ours is gonna have to end, buddy. Until then, you can either learn to eat real food like the rest of us, or don't blame me when my stomach gets hungry."
Hutch knew there was no winning over Starsky's logic, so he gave him one last dirty look and went back to typing.
As both detectives settled back into finishing up their reports, the desk sergeant stuck his head into the squad room from the hallway.
"Starsky!"
"Yo, that's me," he answered, not looking up from the typewriter.
"You got someone out here who wants to see you."
Hutch glanced up, but Starsky remained focused on his report.
"Yeah, who is it?"
"I dunno. Some gal."
That got the brunet's attention. "Yeah? She give you a name?"
"Starsky."
Starsky wasn't sure if he had missed a question, or if the sergeant was just repeating his name. Confused, he glanced over at Hutch. Suddenly, his face lit up.
Turning back to the sergeant, he eagerly asked, "Is she about five foot five, around sixty years old, with broad hips and carrying a plateful of falafel and knishes?"
"No—she's closer to your age, about five foot seven and her hips don't look anything like a sixty-year-old's!"
Hutch noticed Starsky still looked puzzled, as if he were trying to come up with a name or a face before going out to meet the mysterious visitor. Suddenly, his partner's perplexed expression vanished and Hutch wasn't sure if the excited look that replaced it was one of impending doom or extreme happiness. Starsky shot up from his chair and grabbed the jacket hanging off the back of it. "Oh, my God! Is it her!"
"Starsky? Who…" Hutch didn't have a chance to finish his question. His partner had raced out of the squad room and he had no other choice but to follow him.
Starsky ran a short distance down the hall, struggling to slip his jacket on while trying not to plow into anyone. He turned off into the main lobby, where a reception area sat tucked away close to the elevator doorways. The visitor, hearing the charging footsteps approaching, turned towards the noise. When her eyes met his, Starsky suddenly froze at the lobby's entrance. Recognition took only a second.
Hutch arrived right behind his partner, just in time to see Starsky and the woman collide and lock together, reacting as though each had found a long lost friend.
Hutch guessed the woman was a little younger than him. Her blondish-brown, shoulder-length hair was feathered and curled slightly around her face. Blue-green eyes peeked out from thick, dark lashes and her pert features reminded him of Terri, Starsky's fiancée who had died two years before. Visible even from beneath the blue jeans and loose fitting top, her athletic frame only added to her striking features. As the pair's embrace continued, Hutch patiently waited for his presence to be acknowledged, increasingly convinced that Starsky's explanation was going to be one interesting story.
"Bree….I can't believe it's you!" Starsky pulled back, but kept holding on with both hands. "Have you been okay?" Glancing at her from head to foot, he added, "You look terrific, and very grown up!"
"Yes, I've been fine, and you look really good too. I know it's been a long time Davey…" Suddenly her composure broke, and her expression turned sorrowful. "I'm so sorry I never tried to get a hold of you." Her eyes began to tear up. "But I was so angry back then. I just felt abandoned, especially after you left for California."
Starsky's head bowed a little with Bree's last comment. The last time he heard a similar accusation was when his brother Nicky came to visit, blaming his criminal actions on Starsky's absence.
As soon as Bree saw David's reaction, she took a hold of his face in both hands. "Davey…I'm not blaming you. I'm not like Nicky." Starsky jerked his head up and looked at her questioningly. Bree sensed his tension. "Look, the last thing I wanted to do here was get off on the wrong foot. I went to the house, Davey, and saw Rachel. She was so happy to see me. We talked for hours, but I really needed to come see you. I had to see you."
"Hey. I'm glad you're here." Starsky returned her pleading gaze with one of equal intensity. After a long moment, they dove back into a locked embrace.
"Eh-hem!" Hutch felt it was time someone introduced them; he was becoming more intrigued by this woman with each passing second.
The couple slowly separated and turned to face Hutch. Starsky said, "Bree, I want you to meet my partner…Ken Hutchinson."
Hutch stepped closer; taking a hold of Bree's extended hand, he flashed a smile. "Very pleased to meet you."
Bree had been captivated by his handsome features while looking through the photographs at Rachel's. Seeing him now in person, with his brilliant cobalt eyes, he looked even more attractive. "You must be Hutch. Rachel had a lot of nice things to say about you."
"Well, she's a sweet lady. I'll have to thank her next time we talk." Hutch still held onto Bree's hand, not wanting to let go.
Starsky eyed his partner's actions with amused interest. "Yeah, well Mom always did like you best, blondie."
"Starsky?" Hutch said as coolly as he could, still gazing into Bree's eyes.
"Yeah?"
"You gonna tell me who this lovely lady is?" Hutch now gently raised Bree's hand up to his mouth and gave it a soft kiss.
Starsky, feeling a need to intervene, took hold of Bree's hand and pulled it smoothly out of Hutch's grasp. "Hutch, this is Breanna Starsky. She's my sister."
Hutch felt like a boy just caught with his hand up a girl's dress. "Your sister! Starsk, you never told me you had a sister!"
Before her brother could explain, Bree jumped in. "I can probably tell you why. I left home not too long after Dave moved to California, and I haven't been in touch with my family for a long time. But that's mainly why I'm here, trying to play catch up." Turning back to her brother, Bree added, "I hoped by coming here around noon, I could catch you at a good time. I think 'we need to talk' is an understatement, but honestly, I wasn't sure what your reaction would be."
Starsky looked at her as intently as he could. "You're my sister—that's called 'family'. You need me, you just have to ask."
"Well, I think I'll grab a bite to eat here at the station," Hutch said, breaking in on them. "Someone needs to finish those reports before Dobey blows a gasket." Turning to Bree, Hutch half whispered, "Make sure he takes you someplace that doesn't think 'green vegetables' is a dirty word."
"Hey! I heard that! Actually, I was thinking of going to The Pits."
Bree had to laugh at what she thought was possibly the worst name for a restaurant, drawing rolled eyes from Starsky. Catching her breath, she said, "Hutch, please, don't back out on my account. Come with us."
"Tell you what. You guys go have a nice long lunch. Unless you've got other plans, let's all get together for dinner tonight, and I'll pick the restaurant." Hutch pointed his finger at Starsky and said, "And I've got you covered in case lunch runs a little late." With that, Hutch winked at the two and headed back towards the squad room.
Boy, not only is he good looking, but he's too good to believe. Bree slipped her right arm around Starsky's waist and lightly took hold. "So, you want to take me out to 'the pits,' huh? Well, I guess beggars can't be choosers."
"Hey, trust me. It's a great place. A really good friend of ours runs it. His name's Huggy Bear. I think you'll like him."
"Huggy Bear? That's his real name?" Bree was starting to realize this thing about a 'California lifestyle' probably had some validity.
"No, but it's what everyone calls him. C'mon! I've got to show you my car!"
Once outside, the two siblings walked through the parking lot reserved for police vehicles. Bree was surprised to see cars of all kinds sitting in the lot. When David stopped in front of the Torino, and began digging keys out of his front pants pocket, Bree wasn't sure what to say.
"Davey?"
"Yeah?" Starsky answered with a big toothy grin, looking every bit like a proud father showing off his first born son.
"This is your car?"
"Yeah!"
"But it's red."
"Candy-apple red." Starsky's emphasis made him sound like a swooning lover.
"And it's got a big, white stripe on it."
"A racing stripe. Gives it a sense of…style." He flared both arms out from his body, mimicking the horizontal contour of the stripe.
"And you're an undercover cop? Jeez, how do you sneak up on anybody in this?" Bree propped both hands on her hips. "Why am I asking that? You probably just stick some lights on it somewhere and blast your siren, right?"
"That's exactly what we do!" Starsky opened the passenger door and ducked into the car. Pushing the button on the glove box, he reached in and grabbed a red, teardrop emergency light, dragging it out along with its attached power cord. "Care to see a demonstration?"
"Oh, you've got to be kiddin'!" Bree glanced down at her brother and then behind him as she scanned the rest of the car's interior. Starsky showed her the police radio mounted on the transmission hump along with various compartments that contained extra handcuffs, hidden keys and even a backup handgun. "Wow, I have to admit, I'd never guess this was a cop car." Seeing the pride in his eyes, Bree couldn't resist boosting his ego a little more. "Well, ya gonna take me somewhere in this rocket of yours, or are we walkin'?"
"Jump in, sis!"
After Bree got in, Starsky closed her door and raced around the Torino before hopping into the driver's seat. Turning the ignition on and revving the engine, he glanced over at her with a devilish look on his face.
Smiling, she said temptingly, "Ya gonna peel out now too? Someone might give you a ticket."
"Nah," Starsky drawled, putting the car into drive. "I'm the law in this here town." With that, he punched the car's accelerator, producing a sharp tire squeal just long enough to leave a pair of blackened marks etched on the asphalt, hovered over by a whitish-grey exhaust cloud.
What escaped the pair's attention was the dark green Oldsmobile parked across the street, where two sets of eyes had been watching for the Torino's occupants to return. The two men hunched down slightly as the Ford sped past them. As they regained their positions, the driver started the engine and pulled the Olds out into traffic, intent on tailing their target.
"So this is who we're supposed to follow?" the passenger asked. "Might as well stick a big flashing arrow on the roof."
"Yeah, ain't it a trip?" The driver snorted. "Like you could really lose somethin' painted up like that. You'd have to be pretty blind."
"No kiddin'. So who's the girl? I thought these were supposed to be two guys."
"Dunno. My guess is she's a girlfriend. Anyway, don't seem to matter much. Jenkins told me to just grab one of 'em, so it might as well be this one."
"What's your plan if she's around when we snag him? I don't think we should be bringing two people when the boss is only expecting one." The passenger, Eddie Lapentz, was a recent hire of Rothman's and not fully at ease with his status in the organization. He'd witnessed brutal retributions doled out to those who didn't follow orders, and had no intention of becoming an example.
"Not sure yet." Frankie Suko, the driver, was a more senior employee. It wasn't often he got sent out on jobs like this, where he only needed to 'stuff-n-bag' a live snitch or rival syndicate member and deliver them to a superior. His expertise lay in getting uncooperative people to talk. While Jenkins hadn't said so, Suko felt this was one job with a lot at stake. He thought about the bust earlier that day on the shipment Jenkins had been in charge of. Yeah, the man probably couldn't afford any more mistakes.
Suko continued. "I'm thinkin' we'll just keep tailin' him until he gets home. If she's still there…"
After a long pause, Lapentz asked, "What? If she's still there, what?"
"Maybe if she is there, we can use her to make grabbin' him go a lot smoother—ya follow my thinking?" Suko glanced over to his partner.
"Yeah, you're right. He ain't gonna go easy. Didn't you say something about the boss wanting him in one piece?"
"Yeah, I think 'healthy' was the term. If we do end up snaggin' her, we just dump her off somewhere so she won't be an issue."
"Sounds good to me."
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TBC