Disclaimer: I don't own Law & Order: Criminal Intent or its characters…

Author's note: I can't stop playing with Logan and Barek! Sorry, the crimes aren't explained in much detail, but my focus wasn't really on the murders…

Warning: for…umm…some adult content/references (non-explicit).

Swingers

Carolyn Barek clung to her partner in an affectionate manner, all the while surveying the room around her and the people occupying it. The red-headed woman at the desk in front of them gave them a mischievous smile.

"First timers?" she more stated than asked.

"Now what makes you say that?" Detective Mike Logan asked the woman who was amazingly underdressed for sitting at a receptionist's desk. Carolyn resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her partner's overused charm, but it seemed to work and they really needed the woman to give them the info they were after. And it would be much easier to gain the information under the guise of customers rather than flashing their badges and risking that the suspects would be alerted to their presence.

"She's still clinging to you like she hasn't gotten sick of you swapping her for favors yet," the woman replied, somehow still flirting with Mike.

"I think you've got Caro all wrong," he replied. He gave the red-headed receptionist a sly grin, then turned it on Carolyn. He knew that she hated it when he called her by her old nickname, but knew he could get away with it at the moment.

"Yeah," she replied, putting forth a fake seductive grin. "I like a little variety of selection now and again."

He leaned in to kiss her, and she swore that she was going to give him the beating of his life later on, after they dropped the act and busted the perps. She fought the urge to resist his advance and slap him, and taking comfort in the knowledge that she would make him pay later, she let him kiss her. Realizing that it wasn't all that unpleasant, she even returned it, letting her lips linger on his a little longer than necessary. They broke away and he was right back to flirting with the receptionist.

"So, what's on the menu today?" he asked her, leaning in and winking. Mike knew that he was laying it on a little thick but they really needed to catch these bad guys. Carolyn knew what the receptionist was thinking. She could read it on the red-head's face. The woman was wishing that she was on his menu.

"Actually, we were supposed to meet some friends of ours," Carolyn said, growing tired of her partner's supposed charm.

"Names?" the receptionist asked simultaneously giving Carolyn an irritated glance laced with jealousy. Noticing the animosity of the woman towards his partner, Mike took over the conversation again.

"They didn't say what names they went by here because we weren't sure if we were going to meet them here or someplace else," he hoped to explain away the fact that they didn't have actual names for the suspects. It helped that no one wanted to use their real names in places like this. She seemed receptive to the idea and the lack of a suspicious look encouraged him to continue. "She's a blonde. Skinny, big rack…" Carolyn allowed herself the eye-roll this time. It seemed like a wifely thing to do. "He's a little shorter than I am; dark hair…"

"Blue eyes," Carolyn finished for her partner. She made up some names just to make them seem legit. It wasn't important whether the receptionist had heard them before or not. People like the perps threw names around all the time. It was like changing pants (or lovers) to them. "They might go by Ted and Jill."

"I think I know who you're looking for," the red-head conceded, smiling. "But I haven't heard them use those aliases before."

Oh, big word. Don't hurt yourself, Carolyn thought. Why was she being so cynical? It must be pretending to be Mike's obedient and insatiable wife who was willing to do anything for him, including being swapped so he could have a good time. It was that, or the tight skimpy black dress, lacy underwear, pantyhose and garter belt and spiky high-heeled shoes. She really hoped this worked and that the suspects didn't run. For death would be her fate if she had to chase after them in her stiletto knock-offs.

"They're here, right?" Mike asked, still leaning over the desk. He turned to Carolyn. "They did say to meet them here if we decided to…seek them out?"

"I believe so," she said playing the dumb currently becoming bored wife.

"If they're Mitchell and Amber," the receptionist cooed, attempting to regain Mike's attention away from his rather attractive partner. "They're upstairs; Second door on the right."

"Thanks, doll," Mike said. Carolyn turned away and rolled her eyes. They headed for the ornate stairs. Slipping his hand around her waist, he pulled her close as they climbed the stairs.

That man really had some nerve.

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After traveling down a narrow hallway, in which they had to snug uncomfortably close together when someone passed by them, they found the door that they were directed to, the one that should hold the murder suspects behind it.

"This must be it," Mike said, stopping in front of the door. Voices could be heard from within; laughter and other sounds.

"Ready?" Carolyn asked, taking the opportunity to unleash herself from his grasp and step forward to open the door. Instead she found his hand move to rest on the small of her back as they entered the room.

The people lounging on low couches and the floor, drinks in their hands stopped and surveyed the couple. The man was dressed casually in a pair of snug-fitting blue jeans and a black button-down shirt with the top few buttons undone. He had his hand wrapped around the woman's waist, and it gently roamed up and down the silky black dress that clung seductively to her curves.

"We're looking for Mitchell and Amber," the woman said, her big eyes studying the folks in the room in return for their appraising glares. A man and woman who were sitting apart from each other, nestled amongst the others, rose to their feet to greet the new couple. The man who met the description of the male suspect to a tee told the others to continue without them before making his way alongside his 'wife' to where the detectives stood.

The man called Mitchell stood in front of Carolyn and surveyed her from head to foot in the most scrutinizing manner she had ever encountered. It made her feel incredibly vulnerable and nervous. She had never felt so violated in her life. Suddenly, Logan's hand roaming up and down her side was a support. She welcomed it wholeheartedly. She placed her hand on his, an act that outwardly appeared like she was steadying the annoying appendage, but one that served to relieve her inner unease. All the while she never removed her gaze from the man who so blatantly was checking her out, more than checking her out; scrutinizing her like she was an object in a shop window he was considering purchasing.

Finally, he seemed to reach a decision. He reached out and gently stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. It took all of her concentration and a tight grip on Mike's hand, but Carolyn didn't flinch.

"She'll do," he said to the world in general. It took all of Mike's resolve not to take the creep down right then. He had basically eye-fucked his partner, and then nonchalantly offered acceptance of her, like she wasn't the most attractive woman in the room, probably the building, maybe even the borough. And not only had he insulted her, the man had freaked her out; Mike had felt her squeeze his hand, could tell her unease even though she was hiding it well. He tried not to give 'Mitchell' a hate-filled look as the man turned to his wife who had all the while been checking Mike out. "What do you think, my love?"

"I think they could be fun, my darling," she offered, giving Mike a sultry look.

"Maybe we should find a more private room," Mitchell offered.

"Yeah, I know just the one," Detective Mike Logan said, pulling out his badge. Carolyn did the same. "I hope you don't mind a bit of a drive, though darling."

"NYPD. You're under arrest for the murders of Doug and Laura Connelly, Richard and Christine Baker, Timothy Rhodes and Sarah Curtis," Carolyn stated, grabbing the only man who had unnerved her in ten years and pushing him into Logan's receiving hands, which cuffed him. She put Amber into bracelets as well as she Mirandized them and the perps were ushered out to be taken to the station.

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Detective Barek sighed deeply as she plopped down in her chair. She gratefully pulled of her torturous high-heeled beauties, and stretched her feet. It had been one long day, but after bringing the suspects in and several hours of interrogation, they had gotten a confession. She could have changed, probably should've. But the way Mitchell (surprisingly Mitchell turned out to be his real name) had looked at her, she knew it would be a source of tension between him and his wife, despite the idea that the woman was completely loyal and trusting of him. Logan hadn't wanted her in there dressed like she was. He didn't say it outright, but she knew it made him angry, how Mitchell had unsettled her, disrespected her. For all the things Mike Logan did to annoy her, he did care about her on some level. She looked over at her partner, who had already delved into the follow-up paper work. Once it was completed, they could get out of there, and worry about the rest of the stack of paper that followed cases the next day. She decided to do the same.

Detective Logan looked up from the paperwork he was currently rushing through. It had been a long day, and he was desperate to get out of there. Well, maybe not all that desperate, he conceded as he took in the sight of his partner all dolled up in her form-fitting revealing black dress, for probably the hundredth time that day. When he first had seen her in the get-up, it was all he could do to prevent his jaw from dropping to the floor. He knew she was pretty, he couldn't deny that he had surveyed her delicate features on previous occasions, but since that moment he was suffering from the knowledge that she was gorgeous. From her head to her toe, she was stunning, and he had sure as hell been stunned. He still was for that matter, and he probably would be for awhile. But really, could she blame him for using their guise as married swingers to feel her up a little and extort a kiss from her? Well, she could, and probably did, and more than likely he would pay for it in full at a later time, but it was still worth it to Mike. He had gotten something he would never have under normal circumstances and…

She caught him staring at her and glared back at him.

…definitely would never have the chance at stealing again.

She finished filling out her form, threw it in the outgoing box on her desk, and got up to leave. She began to lean over to pick up her shoes, realized the view she was about to give the man who had been coming on to her practically all day, who also happened to be her partner, and hesitated. Then she changed her mind. Aw, screw it, Carolyn thought to herself. Let him dig himself in deeper. She bent over and collected her man's excuse for a pair of shoes. Damn men and their torture devices.

He should've known it was a trap, and part of him most definitely did, but he was tired, too. And it was such a tempting sight. He was already bound to get hell from her in the coming weeks for his behavior earlier, so he might as well make sure he wholly deserved the barrage of comments and various other forms of torture he probably couldn't dream of but she had already thought up. So he leaned back in his chair and admired his partner's shapely behind as she was bent over searching for her discarded shoes. Her dress was so short that it slipped up enough to reveal some skin above her thigh-high black nylons. And Mike knew he was going to have an impossible time trying to get to sleep that night with the image in front of him stuck in his mind. But he would be able to use the image of her smooth skin and-oh, black lace underwear-when she started giving him a hard time, when she stopped talking to him, which would probably begin the next day.

She found both shoes, stood up and turned around to catch her voyeur partner in the act. He wasn't even pretending to do his work. He was sitting there, openly ogling her with a self-satisfied grin on his face. But for some reason, Carolyn wasn't angry. Well, she knew why. The look he was giving her was different than the look that wife-swapping, murdering bastard had given her. The look the creep had given her made her feel vulnerable, violated. The look Mike Logan was giving her made her feel empowered. It wasn't scrutinizing her as an object, measuring how much pleasure could be derived from her. It was seeing her as a woman, alluring and sexy, and worth the attention. Its intent was less than gentlemanly, but it was somehow respectful at the same time.

She made her way over to his desk, and half-sitting on the edge of it, she leaned over until her face was a few inches from his, until her scantily clad body threatened to fall into his and whispered a promise to him. "There will be retribution for what you did today."

Then she quickly straightened herself up onto her feet, flashed him a menacing but playful grin and walked away, leaving him shaking his head and laughing quietly to himself. Detective Mike Logan returned to his paperwork, wondering at how his partner never ceased to amaze him.

THE END