Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; this story is purely written for fun and not profit.

A/N: Warnings for a little bit of bad language and violence. And yes, I lifted the premise of this one directly from an episode of the best cop show ever. Enjoy!

Rain was starting to fall as Nancy Drew stepped out of her cab in the yellow light of the corner streetlamp, and she looked up into the dark sky with annoyance. It had been a long day at the criminology conference and she was exhausted. The weather was miserable. And to top it all off, if she was completely honest with herself, she was nervous. The idea of being nervous about meeting a good friend for a completely casual dinner made her feel silly and insecure, two things she hated feeling, which only darkened her mood.

After paying the driver, she hurried across the street, keeping her coat clutched tightly around her against the cold and damp. Her destination, a little Italian restaurant, beckoned with the delicious smells of cooking food. The place seemed to give off a warm, homey glow, light pouring out through the large plate glass window in front that read Dante's Place.

Pausing under the red and white striped awning, she peered into the restaurant and immediately spotted Frank Hardy seated at a table near the front. A smile rose to her face unbidden and she felt her spirits lifting despite herself... even if the nerves did persist in the form of a fluttery feeling in the general vicinity of her stomach. He hadn't seen her yet, and she gave herself five seconds to get collected before she reached out and tapped on the glass with one fingernail to attract his attention. Their eyes met and he answered her grin with one of his own.

Exhaustion forgotten, there was even a bit of a spring in her step as she entered the restaurant, nodding to the waitress as she passed on the way to Frank's table. Frank had gotten to his feet, and they hugged without hesitation.

As she stepped back, Nancy took a good look at him. Though they talked on the phone often, it had been far too long—almost four years—since they'd met face-to-face. He was just as she remembered him though—same dark hair, same warm, intelligent eyes, as handsome as ever. Maybe even moreso, as the planes of his face, his jaw were a little more defined than they'd been when he was a teenager. He was dressed simply in a pair of slacks and a soft gray sweater, and she regretted that she hadn't made time to stop back at her hotel room and change into something a little more feminine and a little less business-y.

"It's been too long." Somehow, the phone didn't do justice to the sound of that voice in person.

"It has." Nancy agreed with a shy smile. She reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze with one hand. "You look good."

"So do you." It was the most basic exchange of small talk, but his eyes told her he meant every word. His brother Joe had the reputation for being the charmer of the family, but it was Frank's understated warmth and sincerity that never failed to make her a little weak at the knees.

"All by your lonesome tonight, huh?" she said, acknowledging what felt like the elephant in the room. When they were teenagers, it was rare to ever see Frank without Joe, or vice versa. She knew the brothers had remained close, but attending different schools had put some geographical distance between them.

"Until you got here." he said. He took her coat and draped it over the back of her chair before pulling it out for her to sit down. "Joe said to tell you he's sorry he couldn't make it, but he has an exam early in the morning."

"That's okay." she said, taking her seat and waiting for him to sit as well. "I mean, I'm sorry to have missed him, but I'm glad I got you." She hoped he couldn't see the slight flush she felt creeping over her cheeks. She was suddenly very aware that this was the first time they'd ever been alone together when they were both romantically unattached. She and Ned had called it quits a little over a year ago, and, as far as she knew, Frank hadn't had any relationship last longer than a few months since he and Callie broke up in freshman year. Excellent, Drew, she mentally berated herself. After three long years, you've been in the room with Frank Hardy for two minutes and already it's goodbye level-headed P.I., hello lovesick teenager. If she hadn't been blushing before, she was now.

Normally, Frank would have noticed and politely pretended not to, letting the moment gloss over, so maybe it was the fact that they were both single that made him rest his hand over hers on the table and squeeze lightly. He opened his mouth to say something and she was nearly leaning forward in anticipation, so naturally the waitress chose that moment to approach their table and introduce herself, breaking the spell.

While Frank ordered wine, Nancy scanned the menu and chose the first thing she found that she liked. The waitress, Theresa, disappeared, but the moment was gone. In an effort to regain her bearings, Nancy took a look around the restaurant. It was small and cozy, dimly lit, and decorated in a classic Italian style, with candles and red-and-white checkered tablecloths adorning each table. It wasn't very crowded, although that was likely because it was late in the evening and the dinner crowd had come and gone. There was a married couple in their mid-fifties sharing a meal at a nearby table, and a lone man seated by himself at the bar. Two men were sitting in the back corner booth, one an older, hard-looking man, the other, whom Nancy found her curious eye drawn to, was in his early thirties, nervous and sweaty.

The waitress interrupted her line of sight, stopping in front of her and Frank to pour them each a glass of red wine from a decanter. Was it Nancy's imagination, or did Theresa's hand shake slightly as she poured? She opened her mouth to ask if there was something wrong, but Theresa headed her off with a stream of nervous chatter. "Here you are, folks, let me know if there's anything else I can do for you. How are you doing? Are we celebrating a special occasion tonight? An anniversary, maybe?"

"Not exactly." Nancy answered. "We're not together, just some old friends catching up." There was no reason to deny it as quickly as she did, but maybe the waitress's tense attitude was catching.

Frank looked at the two of them, bemused, but said nothing. When Theresa walked away he gave her a little smile. "I've missed being mistaken for a couple with you, Nan."

She laughed, and the conversation turned to easier subjects—the conference, Frank's coursework, mutual friends, Joe. The one thing they didn't discuss—didn't have to discuss—was cases. No matter how busy Frank was with his J.D., he always had time to bounce ideas around regarding the cases Nancy encountered at the investigative agency where she worked, and she would always return the favor whenever he stumbled upon a mystery of his own, as he was wont to do. It was something they both loved—not just mysteries, but the act of puzzling them out together—and it was why she could never feel awkward around Frank Hardy for too long. No matter how long they went without seeing each other, they always fell right back into step as though they had never been apart.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the nervous man in the corner booth shifting restlessly. His companion quieted him with a stern look, but not before the man's jacket had parted enough for Nancy to see something that made her stomach clench: an automatic pistol tucked into a concealed holster. Though she was rarely one to make snap judgments about people, Nancy's intuition was telling her that this guy and his partner were bad news.

Just then, the man looked up and saw her watching him. He tugged his jacket to cover the gun again and slouched down in his seat, letting his legs fall open and giving her a suggestive leer. His gap-toothed grin was cold and cruel, and Nancy quickly looked away.

Frank had stopped talking, following her line of sight. Before he could turn around and look at the gap-toothed man, Nancy put a hand on his arm to stop him. She leaned in close, tucking her hair behind her ear in a flirtatious gesture that was mostly for show. "This could be nothing, but the guy in the back booth is carrying. I think his friend might be too." she murmured.

Frank's expression grew serious, but he didn't make any moves to look back at the pair or otherwise tip them off to the fact that they were being discussed. "I noticed them when I came in... they didn't exactly seem too friendly. With each other or anyone, although I think the older one knew the waitress. You think they're up to something?"

"I don't know..." Nancy hedged. She wasn't sure exactly what to think of them. They certainly looked up to no good, but if they were planning to rob the place, why would they sit down and eat a meal there first? "They look anxious, especially the younger guy. He caught me looking at him just now. He..." She shivered, and Frank placed a comforting hand on her forearm. "There's something off about him, Frank. He seems mean. Mean and stupid. And nervous."

"And armed." Frank said. "Sounds like a perfect storm. Maybe we should leave."

Gap-tooth and his partner were making her a little uneasy, but that didn't mean she wanted to leave. "They haven't done anything wrong yet," she pointed out. "Maybe it's all nothing and I'm just being paranoid. Besides, we've already ordered. And I'm having a good time."

"If you're sure." Frank said, but he smiled all the same.

Still, Nancy couldn't shake the feeling of unfriendly eyes on her, and though Frank continued to make conversation, she could sense that he was feeling the tension as well. She kept hoping the men would finish their meal and leave, but they didn't seem to be in any hurry.

The young guy got up and walked over to the bar. He made a request of Theresa, and she, rather reluctantly, served him a shot of liquor, which he slammed down with a satisfied sigh despite a disapproving glare from his friend. Nancy watched the proceedings from beneath lowered lashes, blinking and looking away as he took a winding route away from the bar, passing directly behind their table.

As he brushed past, Nancy gasped, jerking forward in her seat as she felt a cold caress slide along the top of her shoulders, fingers dipping into the collar of her shirt. She whirled on the man, unable to believe his audacity.

Frank's knee-jerk reaction had been to come to her defense, leaping to his feet to confront the man. That was all it took for gap-tooth to draw his gun. The soft conversations, the clatter of silverware—everything stopped as the other patrons stared in shock and fear at what was happening.

Frank was frozen, hands spread, staring at the pistol pointed at his chest. Gap-tooth grinned his sick smile. "Hey, Red, I don't think your date likes me too much."

This man was clearly more unstable than she'd even guessed, and Nancy tried to keep her voice as calm and steady as possible... a tricky feat considering that all she could seem to focus on was the muzzle of the gun pointing at Frank. "Don't shoot. Please don't shoot," she said. "We don't even know you. What are you doing?"

The older man clambered out of the booth. "Buck, you goddamned idiot."

Gap tooth—Buck—lowered the gun a bit, grimacing at his partner. "The redhead's been eyeing me since she sat down. They know something, I know they do."

"Well everybody knows now. How stupid can you be?" growled the older man. He pulled a gun of his own, surveying the rest of the restaurant. "All right, folks. Here's how it's going to be. Stay calm, don't move, and you might just get out of here alive." He seemed satisfied when the order was met with stunned silence and turned to Theresa. "Who else is in the restaurant?"

"The—uh—the cook. And, and a busboy. In the kitchen." Theresa stammered.

"Get them out here." he commanded Buck. "And anyone else you find."

With a final sneer, Buck did as he said. Once the gun was no longer pointed at Frank, an almost tangible wave of relief flowed through Nancy. The situation still didn't look good, but at least she could think again.

A large, swarthy man—the cook—and a wiry, terrified teenaged busboy were herded in at gunpoint to join the group. "First things first." said Buck's partner. "I want everyone's cell phones. Get them out, on the table, now."

Moving gingerly, the patrons produced their cell phones. Buck's partner pulled a paper bag out of his jacket pocket and shook it out, tossing it to Buck. "Collect 'em."

Buck took the sack and crushed it against Frank's chest with a nasty grin. "You heard the man. Let's go."

The gun once again trained on him, Frank made slow, even movements as he unfolded the bag and placed his own cell phone in it. He reached out for Nancy's and she placed it into his hand. The brief touch of skin on skin was all the reassurance they could afford to give each other at the moment, but it was something.

Frank moved around the room, taking the cell phones from the frightened married couple and the staff. He turned around and walked towards the bar, holding out his hand for the last man's phone.

The paper bag began to ring.

Buck's finger tightened on the trigger once, twice.

Somebody screamed.

Frank lurched forward and lay still on the tiled floor, a puddle of blood forming around his head.