(The Woman in the Garden)

This is a reminder that this story is rated T. In this case, for language and violence.

I don't own Bones.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ramon Ortiz had done the unforgivable. He had put out a hit on his partner and Booth could not let that stand. Brennan had humiliated the gang leader at the Hoover and Ortiz wanted to make an example out of her. Well, Booth would make an example out of anyone that went after his partner and Ortiz would find that out shortly.

Booth had tracked Ortiz down on his home territory. The cocky bastard was strutting down the sidewalk like he owned it and he probably did. The gang leader was a dangerous man to cross and most people were afraid of him, but not all people. Ortiz didn't know who he was messing with, but that was his problem.

The agent had cornered Ortiz in an alley and warned him off of his partner. The man had not appeared to be afraid of Booth and that was a mistake. With cold menacing heat radiating from him, Booth had shoved his revolver in Ortiz's mouth and threatened him. "She's my partner and if anything happens to her, I will find you and I will kill you. I won't think twice. Look at me. Look in my eyes." He cocked the gun and spoke with hatred. "Look at my face. If anything happens to her, I will kill you. This is between you and me. Nobody sees, nobody knows. You got nothing to prove. Understand?" Ortiz didn't move and that made Booth think he wasn't getting through. Moving the gun deeper into the gangster's mouth, he knew that Ortiz was on the verge of gagging. "You understand?"

The look of naked fear coming from the gang leader couldn't be missed by anyone looking at him. Booth removed the gun and uncocked it. "Yeah, I thought so. I'll leave first because I have somewhere I have to be." As he stepped away, Booth had a thought that leaving Ortiz behind alive might not be enough. Drawing his gun, he placed the end of the barrel against the gangster's forehead and thought about pulling the trigger. Who would know? Who'd care? No one . . . No, I'd care. He removed the gun from the man's head and nodded his head. If he kills my partner, I'll make sure it takes days for the bastard to die.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooo

That evening, Booth was jogging in a nearby park when he was approached by a middle aged man wearing new running gear. Wary, Booth slowed down and stopped, letting the man come closer. His gaze on the man's hands, he was prepared when the stranger moved his hands under his shirt and pulled out a gun. Stepping behind a large oak tree next to the path, Booth pulled a gun from a holster he had strapped around his left leg and aimed his weapon. "Not very smart."

Moving to the right into the grass, the gunman started firing as he tried to move around the tree. He hoped the shots would make Booth afraid to move and that would allow him to get closer.

Calmly, Booth squatted, leaned around the tree and shot the gunman between the eyes. Holstering his gun, he stood up and walked over to where the dead man lay.

He had not been alone in the park and several people had scrambled away from the scene while making 911 phone calls. Soon two policemen raced up the path to the scene training their weapons on Booth. "Hands up where we can see them."

Carefully, Booth held his hands up and nodded his head. "I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth. I have ID in my pants pocket. You can take it out of the pocket or you can let me take it out. Whichever makes you comfortable."

Uncertain of who Booth was, one of the officers holstered his weapon, stepped closer to Booth and pulled the ID from the Agent's pocket. Flipping the case open, he looked at Booth then turned to look at his partner. "He's FBI."

Officer White kept his gun out, but lowered it. "Explain what's going on."

Since the situation was still tense, Booth lowered his hands, but kept them at his side. "I was jogging and this guy came towards me. My gut told me something was wrong. New jogging clothes, new runners, staring at me like I was a prize at a carnival. The guy was smiling at me and only me and his vibe was just wrong. I stopped running near that tree behind me and when that guy pulled a gun, I stepped behind the tree. He started shooting and I shot back. He fired maybe five shots, I shot once. He's dead and I'm not . . . I have no idea who he is. I've never seen him before."

Officer Ricci squatted next to the dead man, searched the body and found a knife in a sheath buckled to the outside of his left arm under the sweat shirt. "Nasty."

Booth agreed. "That's a Ka-Bar combat knife."

Placing it next to the body, Ricci continued his search. When he was done, he had found another pistol in a holster strapped around the dead man's left ankle, plus a wallet in his pants pocket and a pair of brass knuckles. "Not exactly your usual jogging stuff."

Amused, Booth snorted, "No shit." He had spied a tattoo on the man's left arm when Officer Ricci had moved the sleeve up the dead man's arm. "Mara Muerte . . . the tattoo . . . he's a member of Ortiz's gang."

Officer White stepped closer and nodded his head. "You must have pissed off the wrong guy, Agent Booth."

"Or he just pissed off the wrong guy." Booth knew what was going on and why. "The FBI had to deal with Mara Muerte this week. A woman was murdered and her brother was a gang member." He didn't say anything further.

Ricci shook his head. "Better watch yourself, Agent Booth." Disgusted that gang shootings were spreading into the park, he called in the shooting to his supervisor. "I need you to stay and give a statement, Sir."

Since he didn't know how long this was going to take, Booth sat down next to the tree. "Not a problem." Stretching out his legs, he crossed his ankles. "I don't have anywhere I need to be."

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

Groggy, Ortiz woke up and realized that he had a cloth tied over his eyes and his hands were tied behind his back. Grunting, he squirmed and wiggled until he sat up. "Hey, do you know who the fuck you're messing with?" He heard a chuckle behind him, but decided to stay where he was. He had no intention of losing his dignity. "You heard of Mara Muerte? You let me go and all is forgiven." Amused laughter his answer, he heard his kidnapper move around to stand in front of him.

"I know who you are . . . you were warned, but did you listen? Of course not. Big boss like you. No one threatens you, do they?" It being a long day, the kidnapper sat down on a log facing his captive. "You were warned to stay away from Dr. Brennan and then you go and do something stupid by attacking her partner, a Federal Agent. I thought gang leaders were supposed to be smarter than that . . . Maybe not."

"Agent Booth . . . I know it's you. What're you going to do? Kill me?" Ortiz thought he knew what was happening. "You threaten me and I threaten you. Now you want to scare me. I don't scare easy you fucker. You let me go and maybe I let you live."

The situation was hilarious to the kidnapper. "I have you tied up, out in the middle of a National Forest and you're threatening me . . . Hey Carl, should we be scared?"

Another voice came from Ortiz's right side. "Yeah, I'm quaking in my boots. Maybe we should let him go . . . course, he might try to wack us or Dr. Brennan or someone else . . . nah, let's not let him go."

"Alright." The voice in front of Ortiz was calm. Too calm.

Afraid, but not willing to show it, Ortiz tried to take control of the situation. "Look Booth, it was business. You came after me and I went after you. We both failed. You don't think I took you seriously, well I do. We're both serious men. You let me go and I'll stay in my territory and you stay in yours . . . Come on, you're a Federal Agent, F B I. You shoot me, someday you get caught and you fry for killing me. You don't want to fry for being a murderer. Of course not. You let me go and all is forgiven . . . Agent Booth . . . I'll leave the pretty doctor alone and I'll leave you alone. Man to man, I give you my word."

"Your word doesn't mean shit." The voice was closer. "You put out a hit on my daughter and her partner. You fucked with the wrong people, you piece of shit." A sudden crack and Ortiz felt a crushing blow to his head. As he lay dying he heard a growl from the man who shot him. "And the name is Max Keenan, you asshole."

Oooooooooooooooooooo

Harris walked into Booth's office and sat down on the chair near the door. "No one knows where Ortiz is. We've had some of our people looking in all of his usual haunts and no one has seen him for at least a week now." Harris crossed his legs. "Maybe he went south to visit relatives."

"If and when he shows up, I want his ass." Booth was still fuming about being attacked in the park. "I know it was Ortiz that put a hit out on me. I want his ass in jail. No one gets away with ordering an attack on a Federal Agent. No one."

Since they couldn't do anything until Ortiz showed up, Harris decided that the absence of a vicious gang leader was probably a good thing. "One of my contacts says there might be a new gang leader. He's not sure. He thinks that maybe they had a coup. The Mara Muerte gang members are acting like Ortiz isn't coming back."

That was strange, but not completely unexpected. Booth leaned on his desk. "Lets get someone to find out who the new leader is, bring him in and lean on him. I want to know what's going on. If Ortiz is dead I need to know about it."

Standing, Harris scratched his chin. "Sure. In the meantime, watch your back. If Ortiz is still around, he may still be gunning for you."

"Yeah, yeah." Booth was a cautious man. "If that bastard comes near me or Bones, it will the last thing he does in this world."

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