The song ended just as Bobby dipped the blond, voluptuous woman. Sweating and smiling, he extracted himself from her arms. "Save another dance for me, would ya?" She said with a wink. He nodded and turned to rest on the sidelines with Eames. But she wasn't where he'd left her. Not to be daunted, he slipped outside of the warm club for some cool air.
As he walked through the double doors, he was hit with a shocking cold. The weather had taken a turn for the worse and the rain had turned into hail. He let the biting cold eat away at the sticky feeling on his skin. Sighing, he looked for his partner but she wasn't there either. That's odd. He knit his brows and turned back inside.
He looked all over, even watching the door to the women's bathroom. But Eames wasn't there. He walked back onto the dance floor, purposely avoiding the strong-headed woman he had been dancing with. Walking over to where Eames had been waiting, he paused. Tilting his head, he began looking around, his detective skills taking over. Nothing, just nothing. There was no indication that she had ever been there, no sign of her.
Hiding the fear beginning to overcome his confusion, he made his way to the front desk and handed the lady the tickets to pick up Eames' and his coats. She walked into the back looking for the requested clothing. Oh please. She took her coat, and went home. Must have. There's no other— With a soft thud the same lady dropped not just one, but two coats onto the desk. Bobby's eyes went wide only for a fraction of a second before he picked up both coats and ran for the door.
Ignoring the cold and the hail, Bobby ran frantically looking in every direction his head would move. "Eames! Eames!" The hail blocked every view. He couldn't see the sidewalk ahead of him, nor the people huddled under the awnings. Still running, he tripped and crashed to the ground. He wouldn't have given it a second thought, but the cause of his fall caught his eye. Grabbing it, he sheltered the grey material with his body. It's hers. No, can't be. She-she wouldn't leave it… She wouldn't. Not like her. She's not right, not okay.
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Bobby. What? Alex suddenly gained consciousness as the thought of Bobby flooded her dreams. Still unable to move from the drugs, she resisted the temptation to struggle and instead looked around the room some more.
The light had been turned off, but a faint gleam of light came through the door that the man had entered through before. She let her eyes wonder the rest of the room. There was one chair, a few pillars and several packing boxes lined against the wall. Wherever she was, it wasn't up to date; everything was made of wood. A perfect fire hazard.
After settling that no one was in the room with her, she tried to move, just to test out the freedom that had so recently been taken from her. It was all she could do not to cry out. The drugs had worn off enough that she could roll on her side, but the injuries he had inflicted had just enough time to settle into a hidden pain. She looked up after a moment. What—Oh Dear God! Two dark eyes looked back at her. It took her another beat to notice that they belonged to a man; not the man she had seen before, but a new one. He got up and walked over to her. Bending down to her level, he let his breath caress her face. "Hello there."
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Carver sat in Deakins' office, discussing their newest case. "I find it rather odd that these people go to such great lengths to take down a theater."
"I know what you mean. They have other options, but why go through all the hassle of bombs?" Deankins raised his hand silencing Carver for a moment as he pulled out his cell phone. "Deakins."
Carver couldn't make out who was on the phone (he isn't a detective after all) but he could hear a frantic male voice and, judging by the increasingly distressed look on Deakins face, something was wrong. Deakins put the phone down slowly and looked up to Carver with painfully pleading eyes. "What's wrong?" Carver's usually smooth voice was cut sharply with concern—he had never seen Deakins this distressed.
"Eames has been kidnapped." Deakins shuddered. What? Why! She was at home, resting— Who's out to get her? She— She doesn't— At that point Deakins broke and it was all to obvious to Carver that Deakins loved his detective maybe a little more than he should. "B-Bobby's coming over now. He needs help, back up, a plan…" Deakins gave up. The idea that one of his detectives wasn't safe had overtaken his mind and nothing else could get it.
"Jimmy." Deakins' head shot up as Carver reached over the desk and put his hand comfortingly on his arm.
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"Marcos! Marcos!" The man in front of her suddenly looked up toward the door. The grin that had looked at her with a sick pleasure was now downcast as if a child's favorite toy was taken from him. He growled and stood up, leaving her struggling for the breath she hadn't noticed she had been holding.
The door opened quickly and he walked out, slamming it behind him. There were no audible words that she could make out, but the anger and hatred were obvious. "You can't do that! What kind of shit do you think you can get us in!" The door shook violently as a loud bang emitted from it. A physical argument ensued. She could hear punches being thrown and grunts as the two fought. A scream mixed with the sounds of broken bone. One last dull thud and a final crash. The scuffle was over.
The victor opened the door again, revealing the weaker party unconscious in the hall. Marcos walked back in the room; he was the younger, but obviously the stronger of the two brothers. He walked back over to her and once again placed his face next to hers. Blood dripped from his nose onto her forehead and cheeks, covering her in a warm liquid that, up until now, had never made her sick. He reached his hand up and brushed back the hair that so often fell in her face. "He can't stop us now."
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I have an idea for where this is headed (finally) but it is extremely dark. Let me know if you're ok with that. It's the kind of thing that's going to make me seem like a sadist, but that's where my idea headed (it has a mind of its own, I swear!) So please let me know if I have the artistic license to do that kind of thing!