Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.

The warehouse. Later the same day.

An accident on one of the city's arterial roads delayed Chance's arrival at the office significantly. Around the time he should have normally made it to the office, his mobile started signaling in rapid succession – texts, incoming calls, all from the same, well-known number. With the clients present, Ilsa apparently was in boss mode.

Of course Chance could have simply picked up the phone or send a short text, explaining his absence.

Nah…

At the office he stepped into the elevator the same time as Ames. "I'm a bit late", she said sheepishly. "Alejandro and I've just been to the bank. We've bought a house."

"Don't worry, I don't think Ilsa will be mad at you."

Ames' fine-tuned ears immediately picked up the way he stressed the word "you". She was just about to make further inquiries when her mobile signaled. A message from Guerrero:

stay away from office. clients must not see u

"Oh damn, what shall I do now? With the glass walls in the conference room they'll see me in the elevator." She looked slightly panicky.

Chance stifled a sigh. After her mistake in the back alley in Washington she was convinced Guerrero was pissed off with her. She hated that he was behaving coldly towards her and was so fiercely determined not to aggravate their relationship further that she turned into jumpy klutz as soon as she got into a fifty feet radius of him.

What she didn't realize was that Guerrero wasn't punishing her, he was teaching her.

Damn, she looked on edge. He needed to talk to Guerrero about his methods.

Hm, although… the mere idea of convincing him to give Ames some kind of pep-talk was kind of outlandish…

"Don't worry. I'll distract them", he told her, trying to calm her at least a little. Ilsa would be angry, but for the sake of Ames' peace of mind and the success of the new job…

Ah, cut the crap.

If he was honest with himself, just thinking about pulling this stunt off greatly appealed to his mischievous side. Eyes sparkling with waggishness, he removed his shirt for the second time that day.

Winston was sitting with his back to the elevator, so when he saw the expression on Ilsa's face he first didn't understand why it was going through a sudden rapid succession of disbelief, shock, humiliation, annoyance and disbelief again. He also didn't understand why the mother of their new client suddenly stopped sniveling and their new client herself, a sixteen year old girl, asked with thinly veiled excitement: "Is that my bodyguard?" while the father looked slightly confused. Then he turned around.

Oh no.

"Damn, it is hot today." Chance entered the conference room, stopped and looked around as if he had only just noticed the half dozen people sitting around the table.

"Oh."

He wrinkled his forehead in a puppy face expression directed at Ilsa and put the shirt back on.

"Sorry."

Nobody except Guerrero noticed the elevator riding downstairs seemingly on its own.

Introductions were quickly made and Winston informed him about what the Burkes had told them so far: Three weeks ago somebody started hassling their daughter Chastity in rapidly more aggressive growing fashion: At first things started disappearing – pens, books, a bag… Her school library account was deleted. Then somebody manipulated her locker so she couldn't open it anymore. Three days in a row. A week ago a dark red paint bomb was thrown against her bedroom window and when she wanted to go to school the day after she discovered that all of her car's tires were flat.

"And yesterday…" The mother, an attractive woman in her mid-forties whose blond hair and blue eyes the daughter had inherited, started crying again. "Someone… killed… Fluffy…"

The daughter's eyes had pretty much been glued to Chance ever since he had walked in, but at the mentioning of her murdered cat they lost focus and became moist. "I got her for my seventh birthday", she whispered.

"Somebody…" The father choked. "…nailed her on our backdoor." He looked just as shaken as his wife and kid. Winston hated seeing him like that. He probably felt not only deeply worried but also humiliated because he couldn't protect his family properly. The impression of utter helplessness was one of the biggest problems in stalker cases. It often hurt more and had a longer lasting effect than anything else the stalker did. Winston felt his anger rise. Nobody should be forced into feeling like that.

"We went to the police, but they didn't even look at the evidence", the father continued. "We filed a report and that was it. Budget cuts… Too many real crimes… Are you going to look at the evidence?"

"It is our policy to examine everything as thoroughly as possible", Winston assured him, switching into experienced cop mode. "And believe me, after 25 years on the force, there's not much I miss."

"See", the father told the mother. "It was a good thing we brought her." He reached for the holdall he had carried with him and pulled out a black plastic bag.

"I trust that you treat her remains with the same respect you'd treat a human's", the Mrs. Burke sniveled. Chastity started sobbing. Her mother hugged her tightly. Winston accepted the bag and quickly carried it out of sight.

"Our usual MO is to expose our client to the public and make him look vulnerable so the threat feels safe, comes forward and attacks", Chance explained. "That's when we strike. Tomorrow at school your daughter won't be alone. We'll be with her, take a good look at everyone and see what happens. For tonight we'll stay with you at your house to keep you safe. "

When Winston came back from stashing the cat's cadaver away, he and Guerrero went to accompany the family back to their home. Chance stayed behind with Ilsa.

"That was highly unprofessional", she snapped the second the elevator's door had slid shut behind the family.

"Ames was hiding in the elevator. I needed to divert their attention."

"That's not what I'm talking about!"

Now Chance was surprised. He raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression.

"You were late!"

"There was an accident on…"

"There were traces of dust on your chest. Grainy, gray dust like that develops when concrete gets pulverized, for example during renovations. Ms. Barnes is currently renovating her home, isn't she? Did you need to divert her attention, too?"

"Ilsa, I…"

"And besides that, you put the wrong shirt back on, that's not the one you left in this morning. Now, I really don't care at all, not the slightest, what you're doing in your free time, but being late when a client needs help because you're caught up in some sort of fling is totally intolerable. I really expected more of you!"

And off she stomped…

Chance found himself longing for the time when the only yelling matches he had had were with Winston about Guerrero. At least the word "fling" had never been in them.

A/N: Thank you for your comment, another-all-nighter, it's really kind that you're taking the time!