SUMMARY: A serial killer is running free in the city. And Steve is targeted as the next victim. Steve-whump, obviously.

A/N: This particular LOD story takes place after Season 5. Read on, mates!

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The Predator

The moment I laid my eyes on him, I was transfixed. I instantly knew I wanted him. I had to make him mine, one way or another.

The guy sat alone on a barstool at one end of the main bar, facing the rows of colorful varieties of booze bottles neatly arranged on the glass shelves. Oblivious to the Friday night crowd behind him, he slowly nursed a tall pint of beer. His shoulders were slouching a bit, his eyes down. He looked very deep in thought, his facial expression melancholic.

Despite his soft good looks with the neatly trimmed beard covering the lower half of his features, there was an inexplicable hardness about him. This man was no pansy, I could at least tell that much. He was just of an average height, not even overly muscular, yet I noticed how his firm biceps strained the seams of his suit jacket. I was certain that there was a delightful masculine physique underneath all that conservative business attire he wore so effortlessly.

He was clearly an attractive man, no doubt about it. But that wasn't the main reason why he caught my whole attention. It was his powerful aura, calling me and cajoling me and begging me to come ever closer…

Like a moth to a flame, I languidly but purposely walked through the throng of intoxicated or half-inebriated pub crawlers towards him. As I took a seat on the empty stool next to his however, he didn't even bother to turn around and look at me. So I took the initiative to start our acquaintances, the beginning to a wonderful relationship.

"Hi, there," I said, leaning towards him.

He started and quickly glanced at me. "I'm sorry?"

Oh my lord, that voice. Velvety smooth. Neither deep nor high, just nice.

"I said hi." I simpered back.

He blinked for a few seconds in surprise. "Oh…um…hi."

"You're all alone?"

Frowning a bit, he gave me a hard stare before replying, "Obviously."

"Right, obviously," I responded with a quiet embarrassed laughter, looking straight into his warm brown eyes. He had long eyelashes too, with thick eyebrows. Most women would kill for such luxury. "Would you like some company?"

If anything, he looked even more displeased. Turning away, he raised his drink and finished it off before responding, "Thank you, but I'd rather be alone."

Now it was my turn to frown. "What, don't you find me attractive enough?"

He looked me up and down, his face devoid of any expression. "I'm sure you are. I'm just not in the mood for any company right now."

"What's wrong? Trouble at home?" I sneaked a look at his left hand. No signs of a wedding band there. "Or trouble at work, perhaps?"

He snorted lightly with a shake of his head. "Something like that."

"Talk to me then. I'm willing to listen."

His scowl returned in full force. "Look, I don't even know you."

"Then let's get acquainted, shall we?" I gave him my trademark beatific smile that had been the cause of downfall of a score of men. "First, let me get you another drink. My treat. What were you having?"

He looked down at his now empty tumbler. "Uh…Kronenbourg."

"Another pint of Kronenbourg coming right up. Just wait here, love. I'll be right back." Without waiting for his response, I went away to get the barman's attention and placed the order.

Minutes later, I returned to the end of the bar where he sat waiting and handed over his drink, cradling my own beverage with the other hand.

"I'm glad you waited," I said, sipping at my drink.

"It would be rude not to," he replied, raising his full glass. "Thank you for the drink."

"My pleasure. By the way, what do I call you?"

He told me, and I was elated. His given name suited him well. Very well, indeed. By the time I told him mine, half of our drinks were gone. And he looked primed for the next stage.

It was about damned time.

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The Prey

I blinked. And blinked again.

What the hell…?

Gradually, my vision had turned fuzzy. And I grow increasingly lightheaded until I started to sway in my seat.

Something's not right.

The woman was still talking but I tuned out her voice. I could barely listen to her anymore. The surrounding sights and sounds had become a jumble of confusing mess that I no longer understood.

Assailed by sudden suspicions, I stared hard at the empty glass sitting in front of me.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

I was completely mad at myself.

How could I be so bloody stupid?

Stumbling off my stool, I stepped away on legs that had become unsteady. She instantly broke off in the middle of a sentence to ask, "Wait, where are you going?"

"The toilet," I mumbled, the words slightly slurred. "Need to piss."

"Let me come with you." She also got off her stool, much to my horror.

"Don't," I said. "Stay there."

I must get away from her now. I need to lock myself in some place where she couldn't get to me. Hence, the toilet.

"I'm coming with." She was adamant, following me several paces behind.

"Just leave me alone…"

Why is the toilet so far away?

I realized I didn't have much time. I was quickly losing all my senses. With growing panic, I reached inside my jacket pocket for my mobile phone and hastily speed dialed a familiar number.

First ring. Second ring. Third ring. Fourth ring. Fifth ring. The call then went straight to voice mail.

God help me…

My head was spinning like crazy now. As I desperately left a message, I hoped the person receiving it would understand what I was trying to say. By this time I could hardly get my tongue to work properly.

Before I could even finish, the bitch grabbed me by the arm and snatched the phone out of my grip.

"Oh no, you don't!" she snapped with an evil smile.

I watched in dismay as she switched off the phone before dropping it into the nearest trash bin. Still smiling, she pulled my arm over her surprising strong shoulders and wrapped her other arm around my waist, tugging me closer to her. I tried to resist, but my entire body had lost all power to fight back. I was as pliant as a puppet on a string.

"Let's go home, love. I'll take care of you," she said, leading the way towards the exit.

It dawned on me that instant.

My worst nightmare had just begun.

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The Policewoman

I lay stretched out in my son's bed, watching over him as he slept, when my mobile phone suddenly buzzed from where I placed it earlier on the night stand. I grudgingly reached over for it, only to scowl in annoyance when I realized who was calling.

Letting the call go to voice mail, I put down the phone and gathered my son into my arms. He had stopped crying long before, but I just couldn't resist having him near my heart. He needed much comfort, even in sleep. The scene he had just witnessed a couple hours ago had upset him terribly.

I admit, the massive row between me and his father earlier could have been avoided if I had been thinking straight. But I hadn't, and I blamed my partner for that.

Things had certainly not been good at the office that day. In fact, it had been real crappy. Starting with a messy interview with a corrupted senior officer in mid-morning, a botch raid at noon, ended with a heated argument with my partner because he had had the audacity to disobey my orders as TFC by breaking his cover, so that he could get an innocent bystander out of harm's way.

Okay, fine. So my partner had actually done an ethically right thing there. But I did inform him that backup officers were already moving in to take care of the bystander, so he should remain as he was and continue engaging with the subject in order to bring down the OCG as planned.

Did my partner listen?

Absolutely not.

So typical of him.

He had reasoned afterwards that backups would arrive too little too late, and that the bystander would get caught between the crossfire. When he dropped his disguise to get the bystander to safety, the OCG nominals had swiftly realized that the 'bent copper' was actually an undercover AC-12 officer. They all had scarpered helter-skelter before any arrests could be made.

A week worth of diligent surveillance and valuable intelligence simply went down the toilet.

The gaffer had been so mad that he had given my partner the harshest reprimand ever, falling short of suspending him. However, my partner had gotten used to such bollocking for years he just calmly stood there absorbing it all like a sponge, giving no care to lost time and wasted manpower. And that made me angrier than ever. And so I had dragged him into a private room to give him a fierce bollocking of my own.

But then he had the nerve to respond in the cruelest way possible, "Don't lie to yourself, mate. You would react exactly the same way I did. What if the bystander happens to be your own son? Do you still want me to wait for backup when you know they won't get there in time?"

I got so horrified by the awful scenario that I slapped him. Hard.

Jesus.

I hadn't even realized I was going to do that. It was pure out of reflex of a mother being protective over his child. I felt sorry the moment my palm hit his cheek, but I was too proud to apologize.

"At work, I'm not your mate," I had blurted instead, making things worse, "I'm your commanding officer. Remember that before you decide to go against my orders again."

I had left the room with the image of him standing still in shock with one reddened cheek seared in my mind.

When I got home soon after, I had been spoiling for another fight. As usual my husband provided apt reasons for that. Even before I had fully entered through the front door, he had accosted me, grumbling hotly about how I had forgotten our son's appointment at the dentist that afternoon.

"You were supposed to be home by 3.00," he had said.

"Look, something came up—"

"Something always comes up! Can't you stop being a copper and be a mother for just one day?"

That had blown up my fuse. Again. What had ensued was a volley of a shouting match. I had not been aware that my son was nearby until I heard his sobbing cries from the top of the stairs.

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"

Shit. I did it again.

Sometimes I felt like simply going to bed and sleep for many long days to escape the harsh realities of life. But my son was my life. He was everything to me, the main reason I still existed. So tonight, I left my husband alone in our bed so I could sleep with my one and only child.

And then my partner had called, disrupting what little peace I had. Well, sod him then. If he wanted to apologize, he could say it to my face in the morning.

Only that wouldn't be the case as I found out the next day.

When I noticed the notification of the voice message my partner had left in the inbox, I reluctantly tapped on it to listen. And my blood instantly ran cold.

"…I'm in…trouble…"

"…roofied…Shamrock Pub…"

"…strange woman…"

"…h…help…K…Kate…"

"…please help…"

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: The story is not over yet. Stay tuned for the next chapter.

"Status Zero gives us no choice. First duty, preserve life." – DS Steve Arnott

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* ABBREVIATIONS:

AC - Anti Corruption

OCG - Organized Crime Group

TFC - Tactical Firearms Commander