Lewis Whitney arrived at Mac's office promptly at the agreed upon time. The P.I. had thrown Mac for a moment when he arrived due to the strange way in which he was dressed.

He had shown up wearing a pair of white linen pants, sandals, and a loud Hawaiian print shirt that would have looked wrong on anyone else, but he managed to pull it off.

Still, the CSI couldn't help but wondered why Whitney was doing his best impression of Jimmy Buffet.

After all this was Manhattan not Key West. The P.I. was even wearing a white straw panama hat, tilted at a rakish angle, and carrying a heavy silver tipped cane. Mac had to fight to bite back his smirk.

"Detective Taylor," he drawled, his Scottish brogue more pronounced than the last time they has spoken.

"Mr. Whitney," he replied and motioned him towards the glass door leading into his office. The P.I. inclined his head gracefully and preceded him inside.

Once seated he crossed his legs and leaned his cane against the chair, near at hand. Mac's gaze was drawn to the strange object and he suddenly realized what bothered him about it. He frowned and moved towards it.

"May I?"

Whitney smirked slightly and nodded once. The CSI picked up the cane and felt the balance. It was perfect. Suspicion washed over his face as he grasped the handle with one hand and the base with the other. It didn't take much to pull the sword free from the body of the cane.

"You realize this is classified as a concealed weapon." The P.I. didn't say anything but the smirk on his face quirk his lips higher. Mac sighed and sheathed the weapon, handing it back to Whitney.

"Really Detective Taylor, you are quite a remarkable man. If you ever tire of being an officer of the law I would be happy to count you as one of my associates."

Mac shook his head and headed around his desk so he could sit down. Once seated, he leaned forward, and regarded the man seated before him intently.

"So, you found something." It wasn't a questioned and Whitney smiled.

"Yes, a very remarkable man," he paused and cocked his head to one side like a curious dog.

"My associate and I had the opportunity to relieve Mr. Riker of some files he had recently come into possession of. Rather careless of him to leave them lying about, but I digress. From what we collected it seems that Mr. Riker had you and yours under surveillance for some time. Needless to say we felt the need to reclaim said information and promptly lost it. Very careless of us, I'm sure. We also carelessly left a high powered magnet too close to his hard drive while we were relieved him of his documents."

Mac almost smiled. At least he didn't have to worry about Riker having information on them any longer. Still, if what Whitney had said was true he could probably re-amass the files without too much effort.

The P.I. seemed to read his thoughts because he was shaking his head.

"Don't worry. There were some other documents that my associate and I inadvertently found and I assure you that once I turn them over, anonymously of course, to your lovely A.D.A. Mr. Riker will not be bothering you again."

Mac frowned.

"Should I ask?" Whitney stood with a flourish and tipped his hat.

"It would probably be in your own best interests not to, although I am sure that Jessica will be happy to share once my associate contacts her."

Mac felt a slight shiver of discomfort run down his spine. He didn't really like sneaking around like this, but then again he also didn't like the fact that Riker had been watching his people. Again Whitney seemed to read his thoughts, which was slightly disconcerting. There were not many people in this world that were capable of reading him.

"I realize that these tactics smack of dishonesty, but as Sun Tzu says, All warfare is based on deception. Now if you will excuse me. I have a plane to catch."

Mac nodded, not asking where he was going; instinctively knowing that Whitney wouldn't tell him. The P.I. inclined his head once more and took his leave.

He was still sitting at his desk, contemplating Whitney's departing words when Stella walked in; her agitation was almost palpable.

"Mac, the deputy Warden from Riker's just called. They have been interrogating Davis' cellmate, to try to find out what he might do. The guy told them that he was obsessed with some detective that put him in there. Said Davis wanted to show her a new meaning to the phrase hell on earth. He has got to be talking about Lindsay. Do you think he would actually risk coming after her?"

Mac frowned and shook his head.

"I don't know, but let's not take any chances. The moment they come in I want to start round the clock protection for both of them. If they so much as catch cold I want to know about it. This bastard is not getting anywhere near my people again."

Stella nodded and was about to respond when her phone rang. She looked down at the caller Id and saw Hawkes' name flashing at her.

"It's Hawkes," she told him and clicked on her phone. "Bonasera."

Mac had been watching her closely, waiting for her to get off so they could conclude their conversation when her eyes grew wide and her voice shrill.

"What! Where! We'll come down right away."

The look in her eyes gave away the fact that something was very, very wrong long before she started speaking.

"Mac, Hawkes is down in the parking garage. He found Danny and he's unconscious."

Mac frowned and reached into his top drawer to pull out his gun. He started for the door and once they were in the hall she fell into step beside him.

"What about Lindsay?"

Stella's eyes were grave.

"She's gone Mac. Hawkes can't find her."

He increased his pace and hit the stairs, hoping that maybe Lindsay was there but unconscious somewhere out of Hawkes field of vision, but even as that hope bloomed it died. Mac already knew what had happened to his CSI. Davis had made good on his promise. He frowned and ran faster.

Now Mac was going to make good on his. When they caught up to Davis he was going to spend the rest of his life in a very tiny cell.

He just hoped, for Lindsay's sake, that they found him in time.

Danny had never endured a longer car ride than the one that he and Lindsay had just shared. Over six hours on the road and she had barely spoken two words to him. He glanced over at her and found to his annoyance that she was looking out the passenger window and that she was scouted as far away from him as the truck would allow.

They would be pulling into the parking garage under the building housing CSI and he had hoped they might at least be speaking to each other by the time they saw the others. He glanced at her again and sighed. Scratch that, he needed her to speak to him, wanted it more than anything. Yeah, and people in hell want ice water, he thought.

Danny had tried to talk to her a few times but she had shut him down. Frustration knotted his gut. He had to get her talking to him, some way, some how.

It was the how he was drawing a blank on. He sighed and pulled into the garage.

She got out the minute the truck stopped and he scrambled out of the cab to catch up with her.

"Montana, wait a minute." She didn't stop so he reached out and grabbed her arm. She twitched but didn't jerk away. Instead she turned cool eyes on him.

"Danny, we need to go. Mac and Stella are waiting."

He frowned at her.

"Ya know what? No way, Monroe. We are gonna have a chat." She shook her head sending her curls flying.

"Danny I told you, it doesn't matter all right? You're off the hook."

When she said those words something inside him shook loose and exploded.

"Fuckin' A Montana, I don't want to be off the hook. Don't you have any idea what you do to me?"

Lindsay sucked in a breath and a strange expression transformed her features.

"No I don't. It's not like you do a lot of explaining."

Danny released her and started to pace.

"That's because I always seem to be a step behind ya. Look Linds, I know ya think that I think what we did was just about the sex but it wasn't, not for me, and not for you."

Lindsay was watching him now with an intensity she usually reserved only for evidence and suspects. He wasn't sure he liked being thrust into either of those categories.

"Then what was it about, Danny?" She asked, softly. He froze.

What had it been about? It was a good question and as he looked at her he realized it was a question that scared him and he suddenly realized why.

Sweet Jesus, he couldn't really have been stupid enough to…but he had. He really and truly had.

Scared, he thought of something, anything he could say. He needed to stall, needed some time to think.

He would look back on that thought later and deeply regret making such a wish. He opened his mouth to say something, still not sure exactly what, when a large shape jump him from the side and cold cocked him in the face with the side of a Beretta.

Danny fell to his knees and an instant later he heard her screaming. Dizzy, he watched the shape dragging Lindsay through the garage by her hair and watched him throw her into the trunk of a beat up late model dodge. She was kicking and fighting and screaming like a banshee.

He tried to get up but when he moved his head swam. He heard the car start and then heard nothing.

His last thought before blackness engulfed him was that Lindsay was in trouble and he had to save her.