Umm ... DL established relationship, I guess. I don't own the characters. This will be two parts. Thanks kcaitlin for the help.

Lindsay Monroe had always wanted a dress that showed off everything. The kind of slinky, slippery, impossible to resist type of dress.

Thing is, she never imagined she'd be wearing her perfect dress on a date she really didn't want to be on. It is the perfect dress, though, she admitted to herself as she smoothed the fabric covering the tops of her thighs under the table. She smiled at the man in front of her, who was staring, not too subtly, at her breasts. Then again, it's not like she was wearing a turtleneck. The dress cut under her boobs, hoisting them up, and further emphasized them with two strips of shiny, red, fabric that cut up to her neck.

"You look even better than your picture," the man said.

"Thank you, Alan," Lindsay smiled. The picture she'd sent him had been taken by Danny – a little snapshot of Lindsay stretched out on a couch with a cookie in her hand. The odd part was that she was wearing one of Danny's button down shirts, considering she'd removed it from his chest nearly an hour before. Danny had admitted that he felt a kind of perverse satisfaction about that.

Lindsay dangled one gold high heel from her toe lazily, eyes wandering about the restaurant. It was a beautiful place. The ceiling was a deep purple, one of Lindsay's favorite colors. The tables were covered in the whitest cloth she'd ever seen, the lights low, giving everything a soft, sensual look. She snapped back to Alan, reminding herself of the task at hand.

"So, Alan, tell me about yourself?"

Alan finished the bite of steak he'd been working on. He swallowed and picked up the napkin with one, beefy, gold-ringed hand. He daintily dabbed the steak sauce off of his mouth.

"Well," he grunted in his smooth baritone, "I think we both know that tonight is about you, Ms. Monroe." He smiled toothily, baring the bit of broccoli caught in the crease between his two front teeth.

Lindsay heard a dramatic cough from the table next to her. She blinked her exaggerated lashes, ignoring it. "That's so sweet of you," she giggled in a high-pitched whine. She concentrated on making her face vacant and devoid of intelligence.

"So tell me, where did you grow up?"

"I was born in a little town in Montana." She winced internally. She meant to say Kentucky. She and Danny had planned this whole persona, and she'd just screwed it up with her habits and her stupid reflexes. Fix it, Monroe. Fix it. "But then," she said quickly, "we moved to Kentucky." She flashed a smile of her perfectly white teeth. "How about you, Alan?"

"I was born in Canada – Toronto, more specifically."

"What's it like there?" Lindsay asked sweetly.

"Cold," Alan winked.

They spoke cordially until the busboy took away their plates. They were left with an empty table and two wine glasses. Lindsay was feeling the buzz already. It might just be anticipation, she guessed.

"So tell me, Ms. Monroe, you mentioned that you were having some financial difficulties?"

Lindsay put on a pout and nodded sadly. "I just get these credit card bills …" she waved her hand in the air. "But it's such a silly conversation to have at a dinner." She smiled and took a sip of her wine.

"Well, Ms. Monroe," Alan said, clearing his throat, "I may have a solution."

"Oh really?" Lindsay asked looking up at him. She heard a chair move behind her, heard a foot tapping up and down.

"Mm-hmm." Alan swirled the dark red wine in his glass before taking a small sip. "I have a little proposition."

"What's that?" Lindsay asked stupidly, propping her chin up with her hand.

"I have a few … associates, one might say, who are in some very high up jobs, and they don't have much time for dating. They'd really appreciate it if some sweet, innocent girl like yourself," he smirked at Lindsay, who grinned back, "would go on a little date with them."

"Just a date?" Lindsay asked sweetly.

"You bet," Alan smiled.

Lindsay heard a snort from behind her. She coughed to cover it up, mentally cursing the people behind her. "So I go out to dinner with these guys, and they pay me?"

Alan nodded.

Lindsay's eyes widened dramatically. "Well, gee, that sounds so easy!"

Alan laughed. "I like your enthusiasm." He paid the check that was just placed on their table with a credit card and handed it to the waiter. "Now, I suggest that we call tonight a practice run, shall we?"

Lindsay nodded. "Sounds good to me."

"There's just one more thing you're going to have to do."

"What's that?"

"Well, I'll show you." The waiter returned his credit card and Alan signed the check. He got up and motioned for Lindsay to follow him. She took his arm, glancing lightly at the table behind theirs, where Danny and Flack sat, looking extraordinarily attractive in their button down shirts and dress pants. Danny gave her thigh a brush with his hand as she swept past him on Alan's arm, reminding her that he'd be right behind her.

They went out of the restaurant and into the hotel next door, where Lindsay had been informed that Alan was staying. She saw Mac sitting in the lobby, looking at her and Alan over his newspaper.

They got into the elevator, and once they turned around, Lindsay could clearly see Danny and Flack slowly walking their way, presumably to take the next cab up.

The second the doors closed, Alan leaned in and kissed Lindsay hard. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she worked out the pros and cons of informing him that she was a police officer right then and there. Pros: he gets his disgustingly limp tongue out of my mouth. Cons: we're in a tiny room. I don't have my gun. He's a hell of a lot bigger than me. She came to the obvious conclusion and decided to wait it out. They stepped out into the hall once the elevator doors opened.

Alan stepped back and smiled at her. Lindsay used every last bit of restraint she had to not wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. She tasted steak. She did not like steak.

She smiled weakly.

He opened the hotel door and reached out for Lindsay's hand. She glanced at him, then heard the elevator doors ping behind her, signaling Danny and Flack's arrival. She took Alan's outstretched hand and stepped in behind him.

Once she was in the lavishly decorated room, Lindsay reached into her purse and put her hand on her cell phone, barely contained in her tiny purse. Danny had pushed for a gun instead of a phone, but Mac had worried that she be discovered with it, thus compromising the situation.

She had their numbers on speedial, and knew that they were under strict instruction to move in the second they got the call.

She was not aware that Danny wanted to move in much quicker than that. He was currently pressed against the wall outside of the room, gun in hand, in the middle of a silent argument with Flack about whether or not to go in.

He jerked his head towards the door, teeth gritted in desperation.

Flack shook his head, holding up a finger, indicating that Danny wait. He pressed his ear to the door, listening to the hushed conversation Lindsay and Alan were having.

Lindsay looked from the closed door to Alan, and back again, debating the best mode of action. She wasn't sure they had enough to convict the guy yet. Lindsay needed to get him, had to get him. She'd been the one to interview the sobbing, broken women who'd sat before her, one after the other, like some terrible parade, telling stories of what this man had forced them to do. Lindsay knew she had to do it, for Susana, Mary-Ann, and Louise – the three women out of twenty who'd managed to escape from Alan's clutches.

"I … I … so, what are we doing here?" Lindsay asked stupidly, blinking her lashes once more and flashing an innocent smile at Alan.

"Take off your clothes," Alan said gruffly, moving towards her.

"I don't want to," Lindsay said firmly, backing up.

"Don't you want to get out of debt?" Alan grinned, removing his jacket.

"Is this the only way?" Lindsay asked, hand fumbling in her purse for the phone. She pressed the speedial quickly. Before the door could slam open, Alan ripped a gun out of the back of his pants and pointed it right at her.

Flack's pocket buzzed, but he had no time to answer it. The second Lindsay's surprised squeak sounded from the room, Danny wasted no time in kicking the door in. Flack had no choice but to follow, gun drawn and pointed in front of himself.

They stepped in the room to find Lindsay pressed firmly against Alan's rotund form, her dress torn at the strap, and hanging down to reveal a lacy bra. Alan's beefy hand was pressed to Lindsay's breast; the other held a gun to the side of her head. Lindsay was facing the door, her eyes locked on Danny's.