A/N: OK, I forgot to put a disclaimer on my other story, but I'll put one on this one. Nicole Sullivan belongs to me…the CSI: NY characters, unfortunately, do not. I have no money. Please do not sue me. I just couldn't resist the beautiful blue eyes of Don Flack (Eddie Cahill). They are a force of nature, sucking you in until you are hopelessly addicted.

There are no real spoilers except some minor ones for the second season and is rated M because I can't write a tame love scene. So, enjoy what has been rattling in my head for a while. Read and Review. Thanks! --Cat

It was a hot summer afternoon as Nicole was called out of her meeting. The last thing she wanted to be doing on a hot August Friday was going across town in a cab, but for a client like Harry Mitchell, she grumbled, but she went. She billed out over a hundred hours a month for Harry so when he calls, her secretary had instructions to pull her out of any meeting, even if it is with the managing partner of the law firm about her advancement.

"Nicole Sullivan." The detective at the door stopped her with a smile.

"Detective Don Flack." She returned the smile. "How are you?"

"Not as good as you apparently." Don smirked as he admired the perfectly tailored designer suit she was wearing. It was a far cry from the off-the-rack deals she wore as an ADA. Not that she ever looked bad, but she just looked better. Private practice really suited her.

"Same job, same scum, just a different side of the aisle, and better pay." She laughed. "What's going on here?"

"Depends on who your client is, Nikki."

She rolled her eyes. "More answers and fewer wisecracks, Flack."

"We're executing a search warrant looking for evidence of a murder."

She took the paper from his hand. "Tell them to pack it up. Anything they find I'm going to get thrown out. David Mitchell hasn't lived in this house for ten years."

"Witnesses saw him here two days ago."

"Where's my client?"

"Not here, Nikki, that's why we're searching."

Again, she rolled her eyes. "Don, David Mitchell isn't my client. The owner of this house, Harry Mitchell, David's father, is."

"Then he's out back with Mac."

"Great, thanks." She pushed by him with a smile and quickly made her way to the back of the expansive brownstone, her black pumps clicking on the hardwood floors.

"Nicole, thank god you're here." Harry Mitchell, a forty-five year old millionaire with piercing blue eyes and a well-toned physique, ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair as he sighed. "They think David's been here." David, his twenty-five year old son from his first marriage, had made a wrong turn somewhere in life, probably while he was working.

"I know." Reaching into her briefcase, she pulled out a packet of papers. "Detective Taylor, here is a copy of a restraining order and the trust documents stating that David Kenneth Mitchell is not allowed within fifty yards of this address without testing clean and I can assure you that he has not done that in years."

"Witnesses…"

"Yeah, well, whoever your witnesses are they are mistaken. Besides, they'll never stand up after cross. Tell your guys to pack it up."

"We have to follow every lead we have, Counselor. And witnesses state that David was here two days ago."

"While I was in Hawaii. Tabitha must have let him in." Harry sighed again.

"Who's Tabitha?"

"The housekeeper. Today's her day off."

"And that's the last thing my client has to say to you." Nicole fumed. "Now, give me a minute with my client alone."

"Nikki, they've torn the place apart looking for god knows what and that detective has been grilling me for the last twenty minutes."

"And you did the right thing by calling me, Harry." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "But I can't help you if you keep telling the police everything. Now, I know all the CSIs who are in your place, they're good, but you have to keep your mouth shut from now on. Let me do what you pay me to do." She smiled softly at him.

"OK."

"Hey Mac." Nicole smiled as she walked up to the lead detective again. "Look, Harry feels responsible for his son's behavior and wants to help you solve this case but I want assurances that anything you remove from this dwelling will be returned in the same condition it was seized."

"I can't make any assurances, Nick. You know that, but I will give you my word that my people will do their best to be careful."

"That's all I ask." She smiled. "Sorry we had to meet again under these circumstances."

"You chose these circumstances, Nikki." A voice from the past came from behind her.

"Yeah, I might have, but I didn't choose to leave my friends, Danny." She turned around and stared at her ex-lover.

"Friends? How can you be friends with people you turned your back on? How can you call people friends when you try to discredit them at every turn?" It had been three years since they'd last spoken civilly, since the night she'd told him that she had accepted the position with one of the top law firms in the city as a defense attorney.

"I never turned my back, Detective Messer." She seethed and stepped closer. "I did what I had to do for my career and the betterment of myself, and for that, I am not going to apologize."

"Enough! Both of you!" Mac jumped in. Had he known Nikki was going to be on scene, he would have never allowed Danny to cross the tape. The wounds from three years ago were still fresh for him, though Mac didn't know why, and Messer always seemed to pick a fight when they were together.

"I will have your badge if you continue working this case, Messer! Detective Taylor, I want him off this case!"

"Done."

"You can't do this, Mac. You don't take orders from her." Danny protested.

"No, I don't, but I can't have your personal shit interfering with the case. You're personally biased and I can't have you tainting the evidence. You're out of here. You're now working the John Doe case with Stella."

"You have no right, Counselor!" He screamed at the five foot eight inch blue eyed blonde in front of him and stepped closer, but she just glared at him. In those vast blue orbs that once conveyed such love and admiration, he now only saw hatred and condemnation.

"Come on." Flack grabbed his friend by the shoulders and walked him out to his car. "What's going on, Danny?"

"What's going on? What's going on the fact that she's on some power trip and trying to mess with my career."

Don pushed him back against the truck. "Danny, I know you two dated, but it was three years ago. What's going on?"

"Forget it." Danny threw his kit onto the passenger seat as he got inside and drove away.