"So...jealous boyfriend?"

"Nah, too suspicious," Callen replied, tapping his finger on his chin as he made a mental list of their options.

"How about this," Sam began. "We call her and tell her that her grandmother died and she needs to come home right away."

Callen shook his head. "That leaves the door open for him to ask her out again. It needs to be something...final."

Sam smirked at his partner. "He's got it bad," he thought. Suddenly, Sam's lips spread in an evil grin. "I've got it."

He began to outline his idea, and although Callen hated that they were going to do this to poor Nell, he agreed that it was an epic plan.

Nell was starting to get antsy. She thought her knights in shining armor were coming to her rescue, but they appeared to be deep in conversation, and in no hurry to leave. She sighed audibly, causing her date to look up in question.

Nell had reached her breaking point. "What?" she demanded.

The man paused in his commentary, scratched his head, and started, "You just...never mind. So anyway, as I was saying..." He began to drone on again, and Nell zoned out. She spared a glance toward Sam and Callen, only to find, much to her dismay, that they had vacated their table. It was now officially hopeless. She was stuck here, slightly drunk, very depressed, and bored to tears, with this oversized frat boy, for the rest of the night. So much for having friends you can count on. At least she could count on wine. Maybe one more glass...

As Nell reached for the bottle, a hand touched her arm. She immediately whirled toward her would-be attacker, and was shocked to see the face of G. Callen.

He left his hand on her arm, while he and Sam quickly flashed their credentials in the direction of her date. "Federal agents. Ma'am, we're gonna have to ask you to come with us."

Nell relaxed visibly, nodded, and started to get out of her seat, when her date suddenly leapt between her and the two agents.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Do you have any idea who I am?" he spat arrogantly.

Callen tightened his grip on Nell's arm, as Sam held up his hands in front of the man as if in surrender. "Of course we do- you're Brad Whittingdon, right?" He glanced at G. as if in confirmation, then smiled admiringly at Brad. "Most talked about man in L.A. in months. Self-made millionaire, entrepreneur, activist, all before age 30. The question is, Mr. Whittingdon, do you know who she is?" he jerked a thumb in Nell's direction.

Brad's facial expression went from irate, to proud, to confused, all in a matter of seconds. "I don't know what you mean. This is my date, Nan..."

"Oh, she's Nan, tonight, huh?" Sam smirked at Callen, who was shaking his head at Nell. "And last time she was Renee. Time before that she was Felice. Man, be glad we got here when we did. We just saved you a lot of heartache," the big man laughed. He returned his attention to Nell, who was being pulled to her feet by Callen.

The action caused Nell's date to shake his head, as if awakening from a dream. "Hey, so what? She gives me a fake name? That's not a crime. Now, get your hands off my date before I call the cops."

Callen's eyes bulged. "Man, she really has him fooled," he commented to Sam. "We are the cops, Mr. Whittingdon," he explained patiently to the blonde young man. "And your date here is wanted in connection with the murders of several rich, single young men like yourself. We have evidence that you were going to be her next victim."

It was unclear who gasped the loudest, Nell or Brad.

"Evidence, huh? Well, I'm calling my attorney right now," Brad shook off his surprise and began to take action. "Nan, I'll have this settled in no time. In the meantime, you aren't taking her anywhere."

Callen glanced uneasily at Sam. This guy wasn't as quick to take the bait as they had planned. And Callen really hadn't wanted to cause a scene, especially if he ever wanted to eat here as "Mr. Cooper" again.

Fortunately, Nell was tipsy enough to be affronted by Brad's actions. She pulled at Callen's arm as she turned toward her date. "Listen here, Brad," she spat, poking him in the chest with her index finger. "I have spent the entire night having you speak on my behalf, and listening to your incessant, self-absorbed prattle, and I have had enough!" She tottered on her high heels, as she folded her arms across her chest.

Callen fought the urge to snicker at the feisty redhead. He steadied her slightly, and gave her a stern glare. "Miss Smith, if that's not another alias, I suggest you come with us quietly, before I add drunk and disorderly to the charges against you."

"I am NOT drunk," Nell argued, as she again tried to wrench her arm free from Callen's grip. "I may have a slight buzz," she indicated, measuring with her fingers. "But I needed one in order to make it through dinner with Mr. Personality, here. He should be charged with boring women to death! You should be grateful you're rich and have a cute butt," she proclaimed, glaring at Brad.

Sam looked empathetically at Brad, who was glancing around to see if the little melee had been noticed by other diners. "Dude, consider yourself lucky the Black Widow here didn't take all your money and leave you to die like she did her last victim. I mean, look at her- that is just ratchet," he continued, pointing up and down at Nell.

The petite redhead turned on Sam, fury written all over her face. "Excuse me, but did you just call me ratchet?"

Callen and Brad both wore the same puzzled expression, until Brad finally queried, "Exactly what does ratchet mean?"

Before Sam had a chance to respond, Nell piped up, "Ratchet is an urban euphemism for a woman who hooks up with men to take their money. You know, like the L.L. Cool J song? What he's saying is that I'm a skank ho' gold digger! Unbelievable! Can't a girl just go out for a nice dinner once in a while?" She continued her indignant rant, hands on her hips, so fuzzy from the wine that she had forgotten that all of this was a ruse to rescue her.

The wheels in Callen's brain finally caught up to the fact that Nell was so inebriated that she was getting carried away. They needed to get out of there ASAP. With a slight nod to Sam, he once again took Nell's arm and began to walk toward the door. "Why don't I get our suspect here secured while you take Mr. Whittingdon's statement," he addressed his partner.

Sam distracted the young man long enough for Callen to steer Nell through the restaurant. She was clearly still annoyed, but at least she had stopped ranting. When they finally reached the car, Callen opened the door for her, and Nell unexpectedly burst into tears.

"Hey, what's that all about?" he gently placed a hand to her cheek, making her sob even harder. He pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back soothingly. "Nell, it's okay. You're out now. You're safe."

She pulled away from him slightly and gazed up into his blue eyes. "You thought I was in danger?"

"You wanted our help," Callen explained, his head cocked to one side, studying the young analyst. "He seemed harmless enough, but you said I was your only hope. I trusted my gut, we came to get you. End of story."

"Oh my God, Callen," Nell moaned, pulling away from him and flopping into the passenger seat with her head between her knees.

The Senior Agent knelt beside her. "Nell, what is it?" He was starting to really get worried. He had never seen the redhead so distraught before. He softly stroked her hair. "Nell, talk to me."

When she finally looked at him, something about her red-rimmed eyes and forlorn expression melted his heart. He couldn't resist brushing away a stray tear trailing down her cheek. She closed her eyes at his touch and shivered. Then, just as quickly, she sobered and shook her head. "No! Don't do that! Don't be nice to me! I don't deserve it."

Callen pulled his hand away, but remained by her side, waiting for her to continue.

"Ugh, this is so embarrassing!" She ran a hand over her face and took a deep breath. "Remember that fake dating profile my sister created for me? FunandLoveLA? Weeeeellll... God, I can't believe I'm telling you this...I..he..it's been a long time, Callen," she winced. "And he was interested. And he was cute. And...I don't get asked out very often. So, I thought, what the heck? I could be the girl who likes imported beer and football for one night, you know?" She leaned her head back against the seat, fresh tears streaming down her face. "Girls like me have to take what they can get, because trust me, guys aren't knocking down my door."

"Maybe you're looking in the wrong place."

Nell's automatic sarcastic response was short-circuited by the intensity of Callen's stare and the determined tone of his voice. Her eyes narrowed for a moment before widening slightly in understanding. "Where should I be looking?" she asked softly, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"Maybe a little closer to home," he replied, as he leaned into her personal space.

Her breath hitched.

"Let's get the hell out of Dodge," Sam's voice boomed as he strode toward the car. "How you doing, Nell?" he questioned as he got into the back seat.

Hazel eyes briefly met crystal blue. "I think I might be okay, now."

Sam smirked as Callen walked around and got in the driver's seat. His eyes met his partner's in the mirror, and as Callen started the engine, Sam thought to himself, "I think you both will."