A/N: Thank you so much to everyone that has been reading this fic. It means so much to me that you've enjoyed what I've written! And thanks so much for the reviews, you have all been very encouraging and I appreciate every word. There is plenty more to come and I hope you're looking forward to it as much as I am!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the bad guys and one orange marmalade kitten named Cinnamon! I sure do wish CBS would let me borrow them (at least Danny!).

It had been a week since the bar incident and Lindsay was frustrated. She and Flack met up to swap phones as soon as she realized his mistake, and he apologized, but it wasn't helping her with Danny.

She really had mixed feelings about the whole situation. After all, she'd gotten what she wanted, Danny was definitely leaving her alone, but she hated to think she was the one that caused him pain. And she knew she had because EVERYONE from Mac to Sid had questioned her about it. Only Flack knew the truth and he was sworn to say nothing. Even when Danny asked him about it a few days later Flack only said go talk to Lindsay. Finally she couldn't take it anymore, it was time for drastic measures.

"Stella, I need your help." They had just wrapped up a surprisingly easy case that looked like a suicide but was in fact accidental and were leaving work on time for a change.

"Sure Linds, what's up?" Lindsay explained the situation with a few less details than Flack received and Stella looked slightly surprised. "So you slept together without sleeping together?"

"Yeah." Stella burst out laughing. "No wonder Flack hasn't said anything, he's afraid his reputation will be ruined!"

Lindsay smiled 'cause that was funny but sobered Stella right up with, "Yeah, but Danny thinks we did"

"Oh"

"Yeah"

After discussing and discarding several plans, she pointed Lindsay in the same direction as Flack. Honesty is the best policy and whatever the truth is, tell Danny.

Lindsay knew that was the right thing to do, but so much had happened to the people she loved. She thought leaving Montana would help but there she was, wanting to let someone in again! Her thoughts went back to 3 years ago when it all began.

FLASHBACK THOUGHTS:

The case had been ugly and hard. I came from a family of cops, my dad, two brothers, another brother was a detective, one brother's wife was a cop, and even my uncle and cousin were on the force serving in some capacity. We weren't all stationed in the same location, some were in Bozeman, some were in Billings, others in Butte, and my uncle and cousin were in Red Rock, but we all had something in common three years ago, Victor "Ace" Montoya. Damn, just saying his name makes me cringe.

I received a call asking if I could attend to a scene in Butte. That's a good travel from Bozeman, but they needed extra investigators due to "the nature of the crime." That should have been my first clue but I was ever eager to prove myself and open to learning any new techniques so I said I would go. I got there several hours later and immediately wished I'd chosen to remain behind.

Butte was a larger city in Montana, and so had its fair share of crime including drug trafficking. It's close proximity to several main highways made it a corridor for drugs to and from Canada for dispersal through the western US. The scene was at a fancy house in a suburb of Butte and when I arrived it seemed like hundreds of investigators were already involved. I found my way to the captain who introduced me to Detective Frank Commins, the Butte CSI lead investigator.

After introducing ourselves we took a walk into the house; 7500 sq. feet, 14 rooms, 3 bathrooms, a movie theater, and 7 dead bodies. Mom, Dad, son, daughter, and three of the daughter's friends that were sleeping over for her birthday party are all dead. Everyone was tied with their hands behind their backs and made to kneel in front of the wall length fireplace in the family room. There the mom and all four girls were raped. TOD showed that Dad and the boy had to watch the horrible deaths of all the females before they themselves were killed. Everyone was shot twice, both shots through the back of the head. Evidence proved there was more than one perpetrator. It took months of work but we finally caught a break off some fibers that I found inside the youngest victim, 12-year-old Abigail Evelyn Massar. That break led to the first arrest in the case. Pretty soon we realized the father had been involved in a drug cartel that no longer had a use for him, Montoya led the cartel. As the arrests began to pile up, so did additional bodies. Montoya would stop at nothing to keep his name clean; unfortunately we could never find anything to directly link him to the crimes. Until I identified the evidence to put him away.

Montoya behind bars didn't mean any of us were safe though. He had far reaching contacts and before the trial was even over he started attacking. First my father was shot in the line of duty making a routine arrest in Billings. He almost died. Then my detective brother was killed on the job. Evidence pointed directly to the cartel that Montoya still managed from behind bars. Next came my best friends car accident. She was side swiped by a suspected drunk driver but I know better. She broke her back in the accident and will never walk again. After that my cousin was shot and killed in an undercover drug sting in Red Rock. Through all this Montoya had been convicted and sentenced to life in prison. But it didn't stop there, supposed everyday events kept happening to the people I loved; family, friends, co-workers, but never me. I became more adventurous in my work, going undercover, putting myself in the line of fire; all to see if an "accident" could really happen. I guess they did, but never to me, only those close to me.

Then came the news: Montoya had escaped. All the strange, little things that were happening suddenly became bigger. I came home two days after he escaped to find my cat Cinnamon dead on my kitchen floor with a note:

LINDSAY:

HERE'S TO WISHING IT WAS YOU!

M.

Lying beside the note was an ace of clubs, Montoya's calling card. An escaped convict is never taken lightly but after showing this to my boss the case kicked into high gear. Montoya was eventually killed during his capture but not before cursing a few dire threats in my direction.

I had to leave. I couldn't stay in Montana and endanger friends and family any longer. It was me, they were being hurt because of me. So I took the job in New York. It was as far away as I could get, but that was the appeal. Then a few months ago I got a phone call. My ex-partner Detective Patrick Mallory had been shot. He was made to watch while his girlfriend was raped, they were both tied with their hands behind their backs and shot twice in the back of the heads. The cartel was up and running again. How do I explain to Danny I don't want him hurt, how do I tell him I love him more than life but that I'd never be good for him? I got that phone call the night I missed dinner with Danny. It's better this way I said to myself. No involvement, no chance to get hurt.

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Tears were running freely down Lindsay's face. Danny deserves so much better. She had come to New York with so much hope and expectation. Then she met Danny and she thought she knew where her life was headed. Sure he had the bad-ass reputation and the player rap, but she had gotten to know a whole different side of him. He had the biggest heart she'd ever seen and trust and respect were two things he didn't just give you, you had to earn them. She knew she had his trust and she had hoped she had his respect, now she was afraid she had lost it never to get it back again. Truth was though that what she really wanted was his love.

"Damn"