DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER, OWN SAMANTHA ROSS.

100 REVIEWS IN ONLY EIGHT CHAPTERS! YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING! THANKS TO ALL OF YOU! AND LETS SEND A HUGE CONGRATS TO MUCHMADNESS FOR BEING THE 100TH REVIEW. SHE IS THE LUCKY RECIPIENT OF A (IMAGINARY) TRIP TO…NEW YORK CITY!

A/N: THANKS TO ALL OF YOU WHO ARE ADDING ME TO ALERTS AND FAVS. ONCE AGAIN I REITERATE THAT THIS IS JUST FOR FUN. AND THAT IF THERE IS SOMETHING YOU WANT TO BORROW, WHETHER IT BE A PERSON OR AN EVENT, PLEASE ASK BEFORE USING IT. I'M ACTUALLY A PRETTY NICE PERSON AND I'D APPRECIATE BEING ASKED, INSTEAD OF FINDING THESE THINGS OUT BY PURE CHANCE.

THIS IS A PRESENT CHAPTER. ZACK TANNER IS BASED ON ACTOR JASON STATHAM OF THE TRANSPORTER MOVIES. NOT WHAT YOU IMAGINED ZACK WOULD LOOK LIKE, HUH?

ENJOY, BEG 75


Whoa Nelly….

"I can't wait to see you
Want to see if you still got that look in your eyes
That one you had for me before we said our goodbyes
And it's a shame that we got to spend our time
Being mad about the same things
Over and over again
About the same things
Over and over again

But I think she's leaving
Ooh man she's leaving
I don't know what else to do
(I Can't go on not loving you)

'Cause it's all in my head
I think about it over and over again
And I can't keep picturing you with him
And it hurts so bad, yeah

'Cause it's all in my head
I think about it over and over again
I replay it over and over again yeah
And I can't take it
yeah I can't shake it."
-Over and Over, Nelly feat. Tim McGraw


During the day, Terrence Davis' club was nothing to sneeze at. No scantily clad females serving drinks or waiting on tables. No DJ spinning the latest in rap or hip-hop. No revellers bumping and grinding on the relatively small dance floor. The room boasted little more than simple round wooden tables without their usual white and black patterned tablecloths thrown over them. A handful of couches and chaise lounges. Metal chairs with black vinyl cushions and wooden stools at the wall-to-wall bar that boasted a rather elaborate and eye catching water wall behind it. Rivers of water trickling down as a pretty young Asian woman clad in a skimpy red tank top and leopard patterned skirt counted bills from the register and giggled at the flirtatious behaviour of the male figure perched on a stool in front of her. A well built African American; his muscles were on fine display in a black undershirt. Large diamond studs sparkled gloriously on his ears and a Rolex watch took up residence on his left wrist. The platinum sparkling in the light each time he brought a glass of JD on the rocks to his lips.

"Terrence!" Flack called as he and the two girls stepped into the room. "Long time no see. I need a word."

"Ain't got time for a word," the other man responded without turning around. "I'm a busy man. Trying to run a legitimate business here. Don't be coming around and busting my balls."

"Looks like a legitimate business," Sam said, glancing around at her surroundings as they approached the bar. "Considering the girl you've got there looks about fifteen and is probably not in possession of a green card."

Davis turned around slowly, a slow grin spreading from ear to ear at the sight that greeted him. "Who are you two?" he asked, his eyes flicking back and forth between Sam and Lindsay. Both women were attractive. The one with the Posh Spice style hair cut was the more wholesome, bring home to momma type. However, the other one, with sultry dark hair and curves in all the right places, was straight up walking sex. His eyes, hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, settled on her. "Cagney and Lacey?"

"Leave the stand up comedy to someone else, " Sam snorted. "Because Chris Rock, you ain't."

"Let me guess, Flack," Davis chuckled. "She's the mean one out of the three of you. The bad cop."

"Bend over and I'll show you just how bad," Sam said with a wink.

He smirked. "You're from Brooklyn," he commented.

She smiled politely. "Damn it's bright in here," she commented, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "Here I was thinking you were wearing those shades because you just had hideous fashion sense. Thinking it was the cool thing to do."

"Why don't you take off your glasses," Lindsay suggested. "Show us your pretty eyes."

"I'm just fine with them on, boo."

"Take 'em off," Flack demanded.

Davis sighed heavily, removed his sunglasses, and set them on the bar. "So? What have I done to deserve a personalized visit from three of New York's finest? And by finest," he eyed Lindsay up and down, than Sam. "I mean that in every sense of the word."

Sam rolled her eyes.

"Do you know a Christopher Rollins?" Lindsay asked.

"Should I?" Davis replied.

Sam opened the case folder she carried and pulled out a glossy photograph of their victim. Taken down in autopsy. "You should," she said, as she held the picture out towards him. "Your phone number was found on him."

"He dead?" Davis asked.

"A hole that size in the side of your head is usually fatal," Flack replied.

"Never seen that guy a day in my life," the younger man declared. "And what's this about my phone number being on that fool?"

"That's not how this works," Sam said. "We ask the questions. Not you. Do you know a Christopher Rollins?"

"I just told you that…"

"You're lying," Flack cut him off. "A guy like you doesn't give his name out to just anyone."

"So cut the shit and cooperate," Sam said. "Unless you want us to get a warrant to go through all your employee files and check each one of your girls for both age and citizenship."

Davis looked back and forth between the three cops, than slowly slid off the bar stool. "Maybe we can talk about this somewhere a little more private," he said. "Just the three of us," he eyed the two girls once more.

"No dice, Terrence," Flack told him. "Trust me; you'll want me there to protect you from these two. Especially this one," he nodded down at Sam. "So be a good boy and take us to your office and we'll all sit down and have a nice, long, friendly chat."

"A'right," Davis relented, holding his hands up in surrender. "Just saying me and the little ladies can get better acquainted is all?"

"In your wildest and wettest," Flack told him. Following behind Lindsay and Samantha as his confidential informant led them out of the main area of the bar and down a dimly lit corridor and up a short flight of stairs. A path that he and Danny had taken once before. The night they'd visited the club for the first time. When a beautiful relationship between him and Terrence Davis had begun to take shape.


Davis paused at the side of his office door, punching a security code into the computerized access system mounted on the wall to their left. His 'space' as he called it, was located behind the bar, his desk facing the wall of water, giving him a birds eye view on what was going on in his establishment.

"Ladies," he said in smooth voice as he pushed the door open and held it, motioning for Lindsay and Samantha to go first. He stepped in front of Flack, his eyes lingering on Sam's ass on fine display in a pair of well-tailored black dress pants.

Flack, who was red blooded male himself and knew just how alluring that ass was and how hard it was to keep your eyes off of it, settled a hand on the other man's shoulder and squeezed tightly as he leaned into Davis, lips near the man's ear. "You even think about touching that, Terrence, and I'll break every bone in your body. You hear me?"

Lindsay suddenly gave a loud, ear-piercing shriek and dove behind her best friend's petite frame. Sam stood, wide eyed and visibly shaking, at the sight that greeted them. There, curled up in the middle of the floor, was a massive Siberian tiger. Fast asleep and snoring loudly.

Terrence stepped beside Sam and smiled down at his 'baby'. "Wanna pet my pussy?" he asked the pretty brunette, licking his top lip.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking something like that?" she asked, recovering quickly from her initial shock.

He smirked. "You know," he said. "I'm always hiring around here. Always looking for a sweet young thing such as you to draw in the customers. I don't need a resume. You just say the word and I'll you in one of them string bikinis, working behind the bar."

"Terrence," Flack warned. "Be nice."

"Or on the bar," Davis said with a devilish grin. "In fact, I wouldn't mind bending you over the bar right now and…"

Flack grabbed a hold of the smaller, younger man by both shoulders and marched Davis across the office and behind the desk. Using a foot to pull out the chair, the detective nearly lifted the other man off his feet as he forcibly shoved him into the seat. "You may be my CI, Terrence, but you're walking a very fine line with me, my friend. That's sexual harassment. And if you think for one second that I'm going to tolerate you talking like that to my girl…"

"Your girl?" Davis smiled broadly as he looked at Sam and than up at Flack. "Lucky you. Bet she's a crazy little thing behind closed doors."

"I'm warning you," Flack glared at his CI as he walked around the front of the desk. "One more comment…"

"You gotta thing for cops, huh?" Davis said to Sam. "Tell you what. You ever get tired of walking on the right side of the law and you want to give the wilder, darker side a try, you know where to find me."

"Oh, Terrence," she smiled sweetly, and leaning over his desk, laid a hand on the side of his face. "I assure you that if you were suddenly the last man on earth, I'd become a lesbian."

Flack coughed noisily in vain attempt of hiding a laugh. While Lindsay, visibly amused, stepped cautiously over the sleeping feline and stood beside the homicide detective. One eye on Terrence Davis and the other on the tiger.

"Now tell us how you know Christopher Rollins," Sam said, tossing the autopsy photo down on the desk as she took a step back.

"Was he one of your peeps, Terrence?" Flack asked, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "One of your homies?"

"He is…was…my brother in law."

"In what way?" Lindsay asked. "You're married to his sister, he was married to yours…"

"He hooked up with my sister about five years ago now," Davis replied, leaning back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. "They've got a couple of kids. Been legally hitched going on three years."

"And you couldn't just tell us this outside?" Flack asked. "You had to play the stupid card?"

"Can't make your job to easy now, can I?" Davis grinned.

Sam sighed heavily. "Either cut your crap or…"

"A'right, a'right…" Davis chuckled. "Keep your panties on. Or don't. I prefer the latter option."

"Terrence!" Flack snapped. "One more comment and I'm yanking any deal I ever made with you out from under your feet. Quit playing games with us. Cooperate. Act in your best interest. Because trust me, she will tear you another asshole before you even know what hit you."

"Why couldn't you just tell us he was your brother in law out there?" Sam asked, nodding in the direction of the bar. "Is it some kind of top secret information or something?"

"I prefer to keep my private life just that," Davis replied. "Private. What goes down between my family and me is no one's business. And that includes yours."

"Well you see, Terrence, when someone turns up dead, it becomes my business," Sam informed him.

"Especially when the someone that turns up dead has your phone number on him and we come to find out, is a relative of yours," Flack added. "So what happened? Why'd Rollins and your sister split?"

"You marital counsellors, too?" Davis asked. "Why do most people split up?"

"There's about a hundred different reasons," Sam replied. "We only need one."

"Bitch was cheating on him. With a friend of hers."

"What was this friend's name?" Flack asked. "He have a name?"

"It wasn't no he. It was a she. And I don't see why her name is of any business to you."

"So you're sister was screwing around on her man and he found out," Flack concluded. "So what happened? He get pissed off? Rough her up a bit? You take exception to that and decide to pay him back? Make it look like a suicide so you wouldn't do any time?"

Davis laughed and shook his head. "That's what I love about the NYPD. Always trying to trick a brother into admitting to something he had no part in. If anything, I was his greatest ally. And I wouldn't, and didn't, kill him for messing around on her. Once a 'ho, away a 'ho I warned him to stay away from her. He didn't listen. His own fault in the end when the trifling bitch stepped out on him."

"Harsh words for your own sister," Lindsay commented.

"There's no love lost between me and that bitch. She owes me over twenty g's, boo."

"Bad business venture?" Sam asked.

"Bailing her out of trouble time and time again," Davis replied. "Supporting her crack habit. And before you ask? No. She's not capable of killing someone."

"People do a lot of crazy things when they're hopped up," Flack reasoned. "Maybe that's what happened to her. She went over to his place, all crazy on the stuff and killed her ex when he wouldn't take her back. She called you in a panic and you went over, cleaned up her mess, and made it look like he committed suicide. She's still your sister regardless of how screwed up she is. I can't imagine you not sticking up for your flesh and blood."

"Did you not hear me?" Davis asked. "She owed me twenty g's! Sometimes the green means more than the red if you know what I mean."

"When was the last time you spoke to your brother in law?" Flack asked.

"A few days ago. He called me. Looking for a job. He was hoping I'd hook him up. Let him work the doors."

"And were you going to?" Sam inquired. "Hook him up?"

"I was thinking about it. Look, I have no clue what happened to the guy. I had no idea he was even dead until you told me. I had nothing to do with his untimely demise.'

"Where were you last night?" Flack asked. "Between nine and midnight?"

"Right here," Davis told him. "Working. And yeah, I do have an alibi. My entire staff can vouch for me. They saw me come into the club at fifteen minutes to nine."

"We want names and phone numbers of all those employees," Flack told him.

"A'right, A'right," Davis said with a slow nod. "I'll get that for you. And start off with Monique out there. She and I were in here, on this exact desk, from nine o'clock until about quarter after."

"That's classy," Lindsay snorted.

"I'll give you credit, Terrence," Sam said. "That's fourteen more minutes than I would have given you credit for."

Lindsay couldn't hold it in any longer. She gave a loud snort and dissolved into giggles.

"Terrence," Flack chuckled as he shook his head. "This is one instance where you'll never get the last word, my friend."

Davis slowly stood up, and leaning his palms on his desk, leaned over it and stared Sam dead in the eye. "You wouldn't be able to handle this, baby girl," he said.

"Don't flatter yourself," she leaned over the desk as well and smiled sweetly. "I've handled bigger, and better. And the things that your 'boss' back there has taught me? I could show you a thing or two."

"I bet you could," he said, sizing her up. "And I am at your disposal. Ready, willing and able."

"You'll be waiting a hell of a long time," she told him. "And if I find out that you had anything to do with Christopher Rollins' death, I don't care whose CI you are. I'm coming back here and I'm bending YOU over the bar and slapping the cuffs on you. And trust me, I'm far from gentle."

Davis didn't respond. He stood there, hands firmly planted on the top of his desk, his eyes locked on the unwavering gold ones holding him hostage.

Lindsay shifted uncomfortably beside Flack. The tension in the room thick and unbearable.

"Knew you were a bad girl the moment I saw you," Davis said, his voice quiet.

"I'm the one you wouldn't be able to handle," Sam told him. "So take a step back or I'll knock you on your ass, Terrence."

"What are you going to do, baby girl? Smack me? Punch me? Throw me on the ground and arrest me? That's more pleasure than pain if you ask me."

"Don't tempt me, Terrence," she warned. "Now step back."

"I ain't doing anything. What? You like it when someone goes all gangster, bad boy on you? That kind of thing turn you on? If that's the case, you've come to the right place. Get rid of your friends and I'll show you just how big and bad I really am."

Flack stepped forward and reached in between his girlfriend and his CI, locked in an epic stare down, and snagged the autopsy photo off the desk. "We'll be in touch about your brother in law, Terrence," he said, then grabbed a hold of Sam's wrist and gently yanked her in the direction of the door. "Detective Ross, we're done here."

"I'm looking forward to hearing from y'all," Davis said. "Especially your girl there. She wants to be all ghetto superstar with me."

"How about you and I right here and right now, Terrence," she snapped, yanking her wrist out of Flack's grasp and starting towards the desk once again. "Think you're all gangster? Think you're all Fifty Cent when you're nothing more than a dime bag?"

"Come here, little girl," he chuckled. "Come here and assume the position and we'll…."

"You know what, Terrence…" she advanced on him.

Flack caught her by the back of her coat. Twisting the fabric firmly in his hand, yanking her back towards him, turning her, and propelling her towards the door. "We are done here, Detective Ross," he said forcefully.

Davis laughed behind them. "Good luck with her, Flack. She's a feisty one. Gonna have you on a leash and grovelling at her feet before long."

With his free hand, Flack yanked open the office door and pushed Sam out onto the landing. "You and Lindsay go and wait in the goddamn car," he ordered.

"Don't you…."

"Take her out to the car," Flack told an unsettled, almost frightened Lindsay Monroe as she stepped out behind them.

"But what are you…." Lindsay began.

"Me and you are going to talk about this later," Flack warned his girlfriend, before disappearing inside the office once more, slamming the door behind him.

Sam snorted in response and stomped down the stairs.

Her best friend in hot pursuit behind her.


"Figured you'd want this," Davis said, parked in his chair once more, holding a piece of paper out to the homicide detective storming towards him.

Flack grabbed the smaller man by the front of the shirt and lifted him clear off his feet. Kicking the chair across the room, he pinned a startled Terrence Davis to the metal filing cabinets behind his desk.

"If you ever, and I mean ever, talk like that to her again Terrence, I will rip your head off, shove it up your ass and shit down your throat? Do you understand me?"

"Pussy must be really good for you to get so hot under the collar about it," Davis said with a dry laugh.

Flack pulled the other man away from the cabinets slightly before slamming him angrily into them once more. "You work for me, remember Terrence? I saved your ass. Spared you from doing hard time. I'm not your friend. I'm not your buddy. We aren't ever going to be hanging out, having a beer together."

"Cool that….cool that. Take it easy there, Columbo."

"If you ever talk to her or about her like that again? I will come for you and I will toss your sorry ass in Sing-Sing where it really belongs. And that's only after I hand you your ass twice over. Am I making any sense, Terrence? Do you understand me?"

"Loud and clear, Flack. Loud and clear."

Sighing heavily, Flack let the smaller man go. And with a polite smile, smoothed the front of Terrence's shirt down before ripping the paper from the man's hands. "These are the names and numbers of all the employees who can verify your whereabouts?"

"Each and every one. I had nothing to do with whatever happened to Chris. You know, I'm kinda glad you paid me a visit today."

"Yeah?" Flack asked, his eyes skimming the list. "And why's that? You miss me, Terrence? Looking for a little TLC?"

"I was going to call you," Davis said, retrieving his chair and putting it back behind his desk before sitting down in it. "I've got some news."

"About?" Flack asked.

"You."

The detective frowned. "Me? What about me?"

"Someone's been watching you," Davis told him. "Watching you and your girl actually. Didn't know until she walked in here today who she was or what she looked like, but I'll give you credit dawg. She's mighty fine. Body like that?" he shook his head. "Off the hook."

"Whose this someone?" Flack asked.

"Some low down, dirty PI."

"Who hired him?"

"How should I know? I just caught wind of it. That this dude was watching you and your pretty young lady."

"And where'd you hear this?"

"Eyes and ears, Flack. Eyes and ears."

Flack sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. There were a million and one people he had pissed off in the span of his career that could quite possibly seek out revenge. But only a handful seemed intelligent enough, or had the kind of money it took, to hire out a private investigator.

"Think you can catch some more wind for me, Terrence?" he asked. "Think you can try and find out who this PI is and who hired him? Do some nosing around and see what you can come up with?"

"Do I really have to?" Davis asked.

Flack smirked and carefully folded the list of employee names and tucked it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "You wanna stay out of prison?" he asked, heading for the door.

Davis sighed. "I'll see what I kind find out. I'll call you as soon as I hear something."

"You do that," Flack said, opening the office door and stepping out onto the landing. Pausing at the top of the stairs, he looked back inside at his CI. "Remember what I said, Terrence. Business is one thing. But when you fuck with my personal life…"

"I heard you, Flack," Davis assured him. "Loud and clear."

"Good. Don't make me have to tell you again."

Terrence Davis jumped slightly at the sound of the door slamming angrily. Muttering curse words under his breath, he picked up the phone and started making some calls.


Lindsay hurried to catch up to her best friend and colleague as Sam furiously threw open the front door of the club and stepped out into the blustery snow.

"Sam…wait…" Lindsay pleaded.

The tiny brunette ignored her, digging her hand into her jacket pocket and searching for the keys to the department issued Avalanche that they had brought in place of Flack's squad car. Lindsay had been behind the wheel up until they had picked Sam up at the bistro. Upon which, the girl from Montana had jumped out, tossed the other woman the keys, and demanded she take over. Lindsay just had no patience, or tolerance, for New York City drivers. Especially in the winter.

"Sammie…" Lindsay tried again. "Just hold up. Talk to me about what went on in there."

No response yet again.

Frustrated, Lindsay stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. "SAMANTHA!" she bellowed. "STOP!"

Sam finally halted, turning to face her best friend. The wind whipping her hair about her face and bringing tears to her eyes. Or at least Lindsay thought the wind was to blame.

"What the hell happened in there?" Lindsay asked. "I've seen you stand up to perps before, but that…." she gestured towards the club. "I have never, ever seen you like that."

"He just pissed me off, Linds. Thinking that just because he's Don CI he can talk to us any way he wants."

"He was doing it to get a rise out of you, Sammie. As soon as you walked in and stuck up for yourself, he knew right away what buttons to push to get to you. And you fell right into the trap. He was playing a game with you and you went along with it. Hook, line and sinker."

"What did you want me to do?" Sam asked. "Let him talk like that to me?"

"You should have just let it go. When Flack told you to, you should have just backed off and let it go."

"He can't tell me what to do, Linds," Sam argued. "He's my boyfriend. Not my father."

"No. He's not. But work wise, Flack has more seniority than you do. He is two ranks higher than you are and it is his case now that Terrence Davis is involved. He could, if he wanted to, tell Mac to yank you off of it at any time."

"Well let him!" Sam cried. "Let him go and whine to Mac about how inappropriate my behaviour was. I'm tired of men dictating how I act and what I can say. I am my own person and I can handle myself. And if Don can't deal with that, he needs to.."

"He needs to what? If you can't separate the personal from the business, you and Flack should be on separate cases. Mac should…"

"Oh that's rich coming from you, Linds," Sam laughed. "Considering every time Danny so as much looks at you the wrong way, you're in tears and ready and ready to hop the first plane back to Montana. So if anyone shouldn't be working together…"

"I get that you're pissed about Terrence Davis being a bastard, Samantha. Okay? And I get that whatever went down with you and Angell, obviously wasn't good. because you've been a royal bitch since Flack and I picked you up. But to act like this? You have this uncanny ability of hurting the people who love you the most."

"That's just who I am, Linds," Sam said, going around to the driver's side of the truck. "I only hurt the people closest to me and screw them over."

"Sammie, I never said that. You just need to…"

"Your door's already open!" Sam yelled, then climbed in behind the wheel and slammed her door.

Lindsay sighed heavily, opened her door, and slid into the truck as well. "Sam," she tried. "I don't know what happened between you and Angell but…"

She was interrupted by the back door swinging open and Flack climbing into the vehicle.

"Can we just get the hell out of here?" he asked. "Before anything else can go wrong?"

"What happened in there after we left?" Lindsay inquired.

"Other then me giving Terrence Davis a permanent impression of a file cabinet handle on his back? Not much. Here's your list," reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out the sheet of paper bearing the employee names and numbers and held it over the back of the seat.

"Are you sure that's all that went down?" Lindsay asked curiously.

"Let's just get the hell out of here and get on with the rest of the day, shall we?" Flack suggested with a polite smile.

"Can't possibly get any worse," Sam reasoned, starting the ignition.


Sam knew she was in for it the moment they climbed out of the truck back at the crime lab and Flack had grabbed a hold of her hand to prevent her from going inside right away. Lindsay had turned back when it became apparent that the colleagues she had thought she was gabbing away to weren't even walking alongside of her. The agitated, furious look on Flack's face had told her that it was in her best interest if she just kept walking. So she gave a small smile and continued on her way.

"You wanna tell me what the fuck happened back there with Terrence Davis?" Flack asked once Lindsay was out of earshot. Dropping his girlfriend's hand, he turned to face her.

"Nothing happened with him. I was doing my job."

"Doing your job? Going toe to toe with the guy was doing your job? You went far beyond the call of duty with him Sam. You let him goad you into playing his twisted little games with him."

"He was a goddamn pervert, Don. Did you think I was just going to stand there and let him talk to me like that? I was sticking up for myself."

"You were provoking him. Samantha. The more you said and the more defensive and nasty you got, the more he liked it and the more he went after you for it. Didn't you realize he was playing with you? Getting off in a way on the dirty little comments the two of you were tossing back and forth?"

"I wasn't going to put up with that shit. Not from him, not from you. Not from anyone. So I'm sorry if you feel I was out of line and inappropriate. You want me off the case, fine. Talk to Mac. I'm done discussing this and defending myself to you."

He caught her by the forearm as she walked away. "Who said anything about me wanting you of the case? I'm just trying to tell you that things got out of hand back there and you're never like that. You realize you could have cost me my CI?"

"One rat crossed off your list of many isn't going to kill you," she said.

"You should have let it go and walked away when I first told you to," Flack told her.

"Just like I should have just walked away and let it go when you told me to talk to Angell and tell her about us?"

"What does that have to do about any of this? What does Angell and our relationship outside of work have anything to do with you going toe to toe with Terrence Davis?"

Sam snorted. "You're such a man, Don. You just don't get things like this. You just don't get what a goddamn disaster my little talk with Angell was."

"We are not talking about you and your problems with Angell. We're not talking about you and me. We're talking about work. Two totally different things. Remember? The whole staying professional on the job talk we had not long ago?"

"I tossed away a friendship for you!" she argued. "I chose you over a friend and I swore to God a long time ago I'd never let some guy come between me and a friend. You have no clue what it was like talking to her! The things that were said! I did it for you! And all you can do is stand here and talk about work?"

"We're on the clock, Samantha," he reminded her. "And we're on the clock, there is no me and you. And if you can't deal with that and separate the private us from the working us than you need to…"

"I need to what?" she snapped. "Walk away from you like you wanted me to walk away from Terrence Davis? Is that what you want me to do?"

He sighed heavily and shook his head. "Of course that's not what I want," he said.

"Well you know what? I'm walking away from you right now. Because I can't stand here and talk to a brick wall. You're not even listening to me."

"Yes, I am. I am listening to you," he argued.

"No. You're not. You're watching my lips move but you're not hearing a damn thing. You want us to stay professional at work? Than that's fine. Let go my arm and let me go inside and do my job."

"Samantha, I'm just saying that you can't let personal stuff, like what went down with Angell, reflect on your work. You were pissed off and hurt about what went down and you walked into that club looking to take it out on someone. And you can't do that. You have to be able to let shit go the second you're on the job."

"Oh fuck the job for once," she huffed and yanked her arm from his grasp. "Fuck the job! I'm a goddamn human being, Don! I'm sorry if I have feelings! I'm sorry if you can't deal with the emotional shit that comes with having a girlfriend!"

"Samantha, this is about you jeopardizing a case," he responded angrily.

"But who cares about jeopardizing my feelings and my sanity, right?" she snorted and shook her head. Turning on her heel, she headed across the parking lot.

"Don't walk away from me, Samantha! You can't walk away from me!"

"You just watch me!" she yelled back, and disappeared inside.


He smirked at the sight of his fiancee storming across the snow-covered parking lot and slamming the door behind her as she headed into the New York City crime lab. She was tiny, but she was damn feisty, and like other men before him, that tall, broad shouldered, blue eyed cop standing with his hands in his pockets staring after her in disbelief, had no idea what kind of hell he was getting himself embroiled in.

Zack Tanner had made that mistake. Getting himself in so deep he had lost all ability to get himself back out. She had fucked with his mind. Crawled under his skin until she was permanently imbedded in there. He had fallen for her hard and fast. She had played with his feelings and emotions. Lied to him when he had trusted her. It was one of the reasons why had become the man he had always vowed he would never be. Abusive and controlling. A monster. She had pushed and pushed and pushed and he had eventually snapped and pushed back. He had smacked her around. Called her degrading, filthy names. Put her in the hospital with a shattered jaw and a busted orbital bone and a broken eardrum. Three weeks later, she had come back to him begging and pleading for another chance. Promising him that she had changed. She had learned her lesson. That she would be a good girl from there on out.

It had been good for a while. Damn good, in fact. She'd become what any guy would want in a housewife. She'd cooked, she'd cleaned. She'd only left the house to go to work and had come straight home after her shift was over. She was a maid and a servant. Gave him what he wanted, when he wanted it. In all aspects of his life.

And she had damn well enjoyed it and stuck around for more. She wouldn't have agreed to marry him, to be his forever, if she didn't want that kind of life.

Then it happened. A baby. The one thing that would change her for good. Being a mother would have been the ultimate form of a personality transplant for her. A child would have grounded her. Kept her priorities in check. Kept her home and taking care of her family instead of asking to go out with her friends all the time. Wanting his permission to visit her parents or fly half way across the country to visit her geek of a younger brother.

That baby was a Godsend. It had been a shock and completely unplanned, but it hadn't been unwanted. Hell, even he had stopped looking at the kid as the anchor that would keep Samantha were she belonged and began actually looking forward to being a father. He was excited at the prospect. Even going as far as attending doctors' appointments and ultrasounds and humouring his fiance by letting her drag him around the baby section in the mall. Their relationship had gotten better as soon as that pregnancy test came back positive. Samantha had stopped getting on his nerves so much. She was an insufferable bitch at the best of times. But once she was knocked up, she became tolerable. She stopped antagonizing him and picking fights with him. And in turn, he had stopped the drinking and the abuse and just concentrated on her and that baby.

And than the stupid little bitch had gone and fucked it all up. He'd asked her to quit her job at the crime lab. As a state trooper, he knew how physically demanding and dangerous a cop's job was. And he didn't want anything happening to her or that baby. They were his family.

But she hadn't listened. She had continued to work despite his orders that she quit. Samantha always had to be independent. Always had to make her own choices and take chances with things. She never could accept that everything he told her to do was for her own good. And their baby had paid the price because she was such an ignorant, ungrateful bitch.

Losing that baby had destroyed him. Pushed him back to the bottle. Brought his demons back again. And he had made her suffer for her mistakes. He had punished her just as she had deserved.

And what had he gotten in return for whipping her back into shape? For turning her into a passive, dependant, respectful woman? She'd walked out on him. Hawked the diamond ring he'd bought her and cleaned out the bank account. A night before their wedding. She'd simply run away from home.

Finding her hadn't been hard. It was amazing what putting the fear of God into her family could do. Samantha was his and nothing was going to change that. He loved her and would do anything for her. He would stop at nothing to get her back. To make her realize all that she had given up. And when he'd found out three months ago, through her own admission and because the sonofabitch she was fucking couldn't mind his own business, that she'd moved on with her life, Zack knew that Samantha was becoming further and further out of reach.

So he'd spent the next two and a half months making personal and professional changes. Two weeks ago, he'd moved to New York City but had kept his Phoenix cell phone numbers so Sam would be none the wiser. He hadn't been ready to go and get her yet. First he had wanted to see for himself just who and what he was up against.

The PI he had hired had been worth the money. The guy was as crooked and sleazy as they came, but he'd worked quickly and efficiently and within three hours of their initial meeting, Zack had had in his possession, photographs of his fiancee and the other man. Some fucking New York City cop that had no clue how to deal with a woman like her.

He looked at those pictures now as he sat behind the wheel of his rental car. Taken just three days ago. Friday night to be exact. The first few being of her leaving her apartment hand in hand with the new boyfriend. Others of her and him with another couple. Some tiny pretty girl with a chin length bob and a guy with glasses that just looked cop. Probably smelled cop too if you got close enough. The last few pictures were taken just meters from some cop bar. Zack had been able to handle seeing his woman holding hands with this other guy. Nothing scandalous about that. But when he'd seen those pictures of them kissing in the middle of that snowy sidewalk, he'd seen red.

And he still saw red as he looked at them now. That was his girl. His everything. His entire world. And no fucking New Yorky City guy was simply going to walk in to her life and steal her away.

He sighed heavily, his hands shaking with fury as he shoved the photos back into the manila envelope the PI had presented them to him in.

It's time, he thought, tossing the envelope on the front passenger seat. Waiting until traffic cleared, he climbed from the black four door Chrysler sedan and joked across the street towards the front entrance of the twelfth precinct.

Time to go and get back what's mine.

It wasn't hard to get access into busy bullpen. Zack had simply shown his badge and his identification to the duty captain and announced he was an old friend of Detective Flack's and that was that. He was given the green light. Weapon clipped to his waistband and all. Had he been in the mood to kill someone, it would have been damn easy. He could have simply walked up to that dark haired figure bent over his desk, intently focused on his paper work, and put a bullet in the back of his head before anyone was the wiser.

And it's what the guy deserved for just taking over his life. But Zack had different plans. Less sinister ones. The poor New York City boy didn't deserve to be punished for getting sucked into the kind of twisted, surreal games that Samantha Ross played with people's hearts and minds. In the long run, had things progressed between him and Samantha, a lifetime with her would have been punishment enough.

He stopped at the side of the desk. Half tempted to just keep on walking and head to the crime lab and get what he was really after.

But the plan had been put in motion. And this was just the first step.

"Detective Don Flack?" he asked.

He saw the way the younger man's entire body stiffened at the sound of the voice above him. The way this Flack kid gripped his pen so hard his knuckles turned white. All those smart ass comments during phone calls that were none of his goddamn business now coming back to haunt him.


The sound of that voice made the hair on the back of Flack's neck stand on end. That voice, and the person that it belonged to him, causing rage to quickly build inside of him. He looked up and blinked. Not expecting the sight that greeted him. Flack wasn't actually sure what he'd been expecting Zack Tanner to look like. Maybe he'd been expecting some weasly, sleazy, puny guy that beat on women because he wasn't big enough, or man enough, to take his anger out on someone of the same sex. He'd never asked Sam what Zack looked like and she'd never offered up a description.

All Flack knew was that Zack Tanner was not the man that Flack thought he'd be. He was close to six feet and built like a brick shit house. Broad shoulders and a massive chest and thick neck. His hands alone looked like they could snap a human being in half. He wore his medium brown hair in a brush cut and possessed the most callous, evil dark eyes Flack had ever seen in his life.

Now that the mystery of what Zack Tanner looked like had been solved, an even bigger one remained. How the guy possibly had the balls to show up in New York City.

"What's a matter New York?" Zack asked, amused by the awkward silence. "Cat got your tongue? Had enough to say on the phone. Can't think of anything sarcastic and mean once I'm here in person?"

"Maybe I was just contemplating beating your ass for having the cajones to show your sorry face around here," Flack responded.

"Not a nice way to talk to a visitor to your fine city," Zack said with a sigh and sat down in the chair next to Flack's desk. "But than again, I'm not exactly a visitor. I've been trying to get a hold of Samantha to tell her about my career change but she hasn't been answering her home phone or cell."

"Ever occurred to you, Zack that she doesn't want anything to do with you? That she just wants you to fuck off and leave her alone?"

"Don't tell me what Samantha wants. I know what she wants New York. I've known her a hell of a lot longer than you have. Besides, I thought she'd be excited to hear the news."

"And what news is that?" Flack asked. "You're finally given up and moving on with your life like she has?"

"You're a funny guy," Zack smirked. "Actually, I wanted to tell her about my new job."

"And what's that? Satan's looking for a right hand man?"

Zack stood up, and reaching into the pocket of his black leather bomber jacket, pulled out his badge and his wallet. He opened the wallet to his identification and tossed both it, and the shield, on the younger man's desk.

"I'm working out of here now," Zack announced. "As a United States Marshall. Hunting federal fugitives. So guess who's going to be kicking down some doors on raids with you, New York."

Flack didn't respond as he stared at the items resting on his desk. Emotionless as disbelief surged through him.

Despite Samantha's words early before they drove away from Terrence Davis' club, the day could get worse.

And the living, breathing proof was standing right next to him.


Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing. I appreciate all the kind words and support and all the amazing friends that I have made. But please R and R folks. It keeps me going and lets me know that you enjoy my work. Especially when I came this-close yesterday to never posting again. Thanks to Laurzz, Twinkeyrocks and bluehaven4220 for their reassurances and their friendships. And for making me realize I should never let one bad apple spoil the bunch.

Shorter list this time around, hopefully there's still lots of you out there reading.

Special thanks to:

Laurzz

muchmadness

Hope4sall

Laplandgurl

Twinkeyrocks

IluvPeterPetrelli

Bluehaven4220

CavalierQueen

shopaholic20