Chapter Twelve

Bronne rested his chin on his knees and wrapped his arms around his legs. He felt like a little kid; a scared, restless, and confused little kid. One that just felt his first heartbreak. But he also felt anxious and terrified�"who had that been on the phone? Was Eva alright? Even though she'd used the heel of her stilettos to puncture his heart, he couldn't even imagine the idea of losing her. Not to Carlos, and certainly not to this unnamed man. Who knew what he was doing to her. Was he there to kill her? To rape her? To hold her ransom? Bronne didn't have any money to offer and he'd be damned if he allowed Carlos to save his girlfriend.

“How you doing, buddy?” Carlos asked quietly, almost as if he didn't want Bronne to hear him.

“Fan-f*****g-tastic, Carlos. How are you, buddy?” He put emphasis on the word 'buddy' to clarify what he thought of its connotation. When Carlos didn't respond he used the time to get up and try and see what was going on with the police. The officer who had questioned him earlier had been distant; seemingly uninterested in the kidnapping and potential murder of his girlfriend. The woman he was in love with.

“Officer Davis,” Bronne stated rather than questioned. He was tired of waiting around. He wanted answers, he wanted to do something. He couldn't just sit around and wonder anymore.

The officer turned from his two colleagues and faced Bronne. He sighed, “I told you I'd let you know if we turned up any new information,” he watched as Bronne's face contorted into a grimace, “...and we haven't gotten any new information.”

“My girlfriend gets kidnapped by some psychotic murderer, from our apartment, while I am on the phone with her... and all you can tell me is 'you'll let me know if you find out any new information'? What if this were your wife, officer? Would you still treat it--”

“Listen,” he snarled, “This is an extremely touchy type of case. You need to let me do my job.”

Bronne snorted, “Your job is to find my girlfriend. Unharmed. Unscathed. Or I swear to--”

“You'll excuse my friend, Officer Davis, he's very emotional about the events of the night.” Carlos interrupted while putting an arm around Bronne's shoulders, trying to edge him away from the three police officers.

“What the hell do you think you're doing? Get off--”

“We'll be in the other room if you need us,” he finished before guiding Bronne to his living room. Bronne surrendered and allowed him to pull him away. He was exhausted and his head was pounding. He hadn't had a headache since he was twenty-two and heavy on drugs, but this was reminiscent of those times. The room tilted and he felt like he was going to throw-up, but he swallowed it back. There was no way he'd show weakness in front of Carlos.

“You can't go threatening the police,” Carlos warned, but his face betrayed him and he broke into a smile. “Always the rebel.”

Bronne wanted to punch him, but withheld his anger and realized how much he missed Carlos. He thought about all the schemes they'd come up with when they were younger�"how Carlos would be the mastermind behind it all and Bronne would always be the one to follow through with the act. He hardly got caught, but when he did he could always count on Carlos to get him out of it.

“Why did you do it?” He whispered. He didn't want to know the answer, really, but he knew if he didn't ask he'd never be able to live with himself. “Why Eva?” He asked, his voice even lower.

Reviews

[Steve]

Good! This sounds very natural and appropriate. Take your time with the next parts as they could make or break the story.