<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #80FF80">Carlos Delgado</span></span></span></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i1343.photobucket.com/albums/o793/Galvin_Fugazi/75418b36-82bd-4b2f-bdff-d44eb7e2deaf_zpsb78abdde.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><br/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #80FF00">"I am not going down to the station! You said I got to choose and I am not choosing the station. I like my streets just fine, Delgado! I have work to do, you know!"</span><br/><br/>He was mightily pissed. What did she think this was? Some dinner invitation? His hands searched for the handcuffs, but then he saw the fear again in her eyes, saw her moving backwards with huge green eyes until she bumped against the vanity. A low growl escaped him.<br/><br/><span style="color: #80FF00">"I ain't going...I gotta...I gotta visit Tom."</span><br/><br/>He was in her face within seconds. His body was not giving her any room she was half laying over the vanity to escape him, but his body followed every movement she made, pressing her further back until she had to place her elbows on the vanity to keep herself upright. His dark-brown eyes were narrow slits. <br/><span style="color: #FF8000"><br/>"What do you think this is, Stevens? Some fucking Make-a-wish? When did the coke replace your brain? I am damn officer and even you should remember, that when I say dance, you dance and when I say, I haul you in, then you find your ass in the cell. You had been a damn good officer, Stevens, but the wreck you are now belies that fact. Visiting Tom Landman! Who shit in your brain? When I say critical condition then you know what that means. Intensive care, you stupid bitch. Are you family? No, so forget about seeing him. Tits and ass, that is all that is left of you. Ok, take your purse, we are going."</span><br/><br/>His hand gripped her arm painfully right under her shoulder and he jerked her up. The tears in her eyes only fired him up some more. He wanted to make her suffer, he really wanted it. What had happened to the young female officer he once had liked a lot? There had been times, when he had wished that they would have been a couple. She had been sharp, funny and fit, with a body to kill for. Now she was broken and lush. Just another failed person. A playdoll for those belonging to that mass of losers, inhibited, weird fuckers who needed them down to get theirs up. He had no pity for her, she had her fate in her own hands and she had chosen to take the road leading downwards. <br/><br/>The manager stepped in his way, once they left her room. Carlos tried to shoulder him away, but the guy didn't yield.<br/><br/><span style="color: #80FF00">"Jazz, are you ok, who is that guy? Do you need help?"</span><br/><br/>Carlos flashed his badge and a weird grin appeared on his face.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">"I'm taking her in, she is a witness in a murder case. If you play it nice, boy, I will allow her to make her show tomorrow. If you decide to make a ruckus, then I will give the IRS a hint to have a closer look at your books. The vice squad may like to know more about those side jobs your dancers are doing and I wonder how many drugs the narcos will find here. It is your call, asshole."</span><br/><br/>Nobody tried to stop them anymore and Carlos placed her in the back of his patrol car. He drove of the curb with squealing tires.</div>