Here you go! Chapter 35! Thank you for all the love you gave the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one just as much!
Frank desperately looked for signs that Marsden was bluffing. He couldn't be willing to let Frank kill Joe. Joe had practically been raised by Marsden. He had shown the man so much loyalty and been so sure he would be offered it in return.
But there was a fresh wave of genuine terror and shock through Joe, one that came with a stiffening of the shoulders and a hitching of breath that told Frank Joe completely believed Marsden was willing to let Frank slit his throat.
"Go on, kid. I'll even dump the body for you."
"Stop it," Joe said. "You're scaring me."
Marsden met Joe's eye and Frank was sure there was going to be some silent message, some conveying of a plan that Joe could pass on to Frank. Instead, Marsden shrugged.
"You aren't useful to me like this. Emotional, stupid, letting yourself get taken down by some bratty city kid who's never had to fight a day in his life. He wants to spill your blood, he's invited too."
"No. No. You're meant to… You're meant to help me," Joe whispered.
The quiver in his voice broke Frank's heart. He dug his fingers into the boy's side, hoping the subtle gesture would convey a thousand messages.
I am not going to hurt you. He is not going to hurt you. We are both getting out of this alive. I am going to fix this, Joe. I am taking you home safe.
"Look, kid, he lets you go and I'll try and fix the mess you've made of yourself. It'll hurt but if you wanna stick around, you don't have a choice. But I am not letting some bratty detective's son dictate to me what is going to happen, especially not when his only hostage is some ungrateful waste of space kid who has been betraying me left and right these past few days."
"No, I… You were hunting me. You always taught me to look out for number one. I was just doing what-"
"And I am looking out for number one. You're no longer useful to me, especially not like this."
Frank considered continuing his threats. He considered shouting something to try and convince Marsden that he had every intention of killing Joe if he wasn't released. But, unlike Marsden, Frank wasn't a killer and he cared about Joe. He wasn't going to hurt him. Frank had no idea if his expression had slipped at the shock of Marsden's willingness to let Joe die but one look at the criminal before him told Frank that Marsden knew Frank hated the idea of hurting the teenager.
"Please, just let me walk out of here," Frank said, slowly lowering the knife.
He shoved Joe forward. The blond immediately twisted. His features were a mask of confusion and betrayal. He stared at Frank long and hard and Frank did everything in his power to convince Joe to be ready for action.
Marsden placed a hand on Joe's shoulder. The boy flinched like he had been electrocuted but didn't pull away. Marsden's white-knuckle grip told Frank he couldn't. Marsden shifted his grip, his nails digging through Joe's shirt to his skin, his triumphant smirk making Frank's skin crawl.
"How's about that? I get to keep both the lads. Me and Joey here are going to have a very long chat in my office. You lock that brat back up and make sure he can't get away. Hobble him if you have to."
Marsden began to turn. Then he stopped, realising Joe was refusing to move. Joe's blue eyes were fixed on Frank's brown. Marsden's hand began to move, trailing up Joe's neck to drag the boy from the room by his hair.
Frank gave the signal to move. It was a nod. He didn't want to risk more but he was relieved when Joe immediately sprung into action. He reached back with one hand to stop Marsden's fingers from tangling into his hair and twisted to drive a fist into the crook of the criminal's arm. Marsden roared in pain and rage, recoiling back from the blond. Sure Joe was going to manage fine, Frank turned his attention to the two of Marsden's thugs who were closing in on him. He let them get in close, retreating back until he was almost inside the cell himself. Then he let a pile-driver fist be sent in his direction. Frank dodged, allowing the thug's momentum to carry him into the room behind him. He was sure he heard the dull thud of the man colliding with the pole but Frank didn't bother looking. He turned his attention to the second man and barely managed to evade a savage kick aimed for his chest. He twisted around the man before giving him a harsh shove as the man attempted to turn for a second attempt. The shove sent him tumbling into the cell, crashing into the man already in there. Frank dared not give them a moment to recover. He sprung forward, slamming the door shut and bolting it in place.
Then he turned his attention to Marsden and Joe.
He was desperate to know Joe was okay, that he was managing to hold his own against Marsden. He didn't want to see that Joe had let the criminal land strong hits because he was letting his past loyalties get in the way.
But Marsden was on the floor before Joe, snarling up at him. The man's lip was already spilt. Frank could tell the criminal knew it was all over; he was done. But he was going to inflict as much pain onto Joe as he could.
"You made a big mistake, kid. I shielded you from so much. You're as good as dead now. Your life isn't worth living. You'll be founded gutted in the street within a week and your stinking parents will just replace you. No one will miss you! No one will care! I…"
Joe sprung forward, a roar wrenched out of him. He threw a punch at Marsden, driving the blow into the man's jaw.
"You're nothing without me, kid," Marsden rasped. "Nothing."
And suddenly a furious red cloud settled over Joe. He unleashed blow after blow, shouting unintelligible things. Frank was stunned for a moment, horrified by the onslaught. And then he raced forward.
"Whoa! Joe, stop!" Frank shouted.
He reached out to grab the fourteen-year-old's wrist, wanting to stop his violent pummelling of Marsden. The moment Frank's hand made contact, Joe twisted. He lashed out with a wild and violent strike, aimed directly at Frank. Barely able to dodge in time, Frank pulled the blond from on top of Marsden and shoved him across the room. Joe turned sharply, nostrils flaring as he glared at Frank.
Frank prepared himself for some sort of confrontation but then changed his mind. He held his hands up to Joe, assuring the boy he had no intention of trying to fight him. The gesture alone seemed to shock the young man enough to jar him out of his rage. He beat his hands against his thighs as he paced the room, looking like he was battling back tears.
Frank turned his attention back to Marsden. He was still conscious by some miracle, his nose broken and bleeding, a tooth knocked out of place. Still, he forced a grin up at Frank, taunting him with a terrible glee.
"I still hid him for ten years. The great Fenton Hardy has nothing on me."
"And yet," Frank said, drawing back his fist to deliver the knock-out blow. "Joe's safe and you're going somewhere you will never touch him again."
With that, Frank let his fist fly at Marsden, knocking him out cold. He checked him over, checked Joe's onslaught had done no life-threatening damage and then dragged the man's unconscious form across the basement into the make-shift prison. He took the criminal's mobile phone, not wanting to risk leaving the basement to collect his own. With no rope to tie the men up with, Frank shut the door and bolted it tight.
Then he turned to Joe. Joe was examining his own swelling knuckles. There was a strange look on his face, his blue eyes were a churning sea of emotion, his face was calm – almost as if he was numb. He let his hands fall to his side.
"You okay?" Frank asked.
"My knuckles hurt," Joe reported back.
"I mean… What Marsden did, what I told you. That's a lot to have to deal with. If you have any questions or…"
Joe shook his head and assured Frank he had managed to follow along perfectly.
"My dad might not be a detective but I'm not… Well, my dad is a detective."
A silent question formed on Joe's lips, one he never asked. Instead, he settled for asking what they were meant to do next.
"Do we call the police or someone?" he asked.
Frank nodded. He told Joe to call the police and that he would call his father. Joe chewed on his lip for a moment and Frank found himself asking if Joe wanted to call his parents while Frank made the call to the police. As much as Frank wanted his father there, wanted him to meet Joe, he was sure that the police were going to get there first and probably keep Fenton back. If Joe needed the chance to talk to the Bramptons immediately, it only felt right that Frank gave it to him.
"I can't talk to them right now," Joe replied. "Feels like a shouting match we need to have in-person anyway."
Frank hated that he had nothing wise to impart to Joe. He was good at giving advice to his friends but his friends had problems with girls and homework and being grounded. Joe had a new level of problems that Frank wasn't prepared for. But he wanted to be. He wanted to be able to help, to give his brother the support Joe had missed for ten years.
"I'll call my… our dad. You call the police."
"I've never called the police before. Doesn't feel right," Joe admitted. "I'll struggle through. You call your old man."
Frank keyed his father's number into Marsden's phone, watching the grimace on Joe's face as he began to make his own call to the police.
"Fenton Hardy's phone," Fenton said as he answered the phone.
He sounded worried. Frank felt a pang of guilt at knowing he was the cause.
"Hey, Dad, it's me. Frank."
"Are you okay?" his father rushed, not bothering with greetings.
Frank had expected anger and he knew he was going to get some eventually. But at that moment all the detective offered him was relief.
"Yeah. I'm okay. Had a little bit of trouble but it's all sorted now. The police just need to come and arrest some guys."
"The police?" Fenton spluttered incredulously. "Frank Fenton Hardy, you tell me what is going on right this instant."
Frank rolled his eyes at his father's protectiveness. How could someone get so protective?
Then there was a clatter from nearby. Frank turned sharply, imagining nightmarish scenarios of a man loyal to Marsden coming in, grabbing Joe. He saw the blond teenager had just knocked something off a nearby shelf and was looking guiltily at the mess he had made while he fielded questions from the police on his phone.
Okay, maybe that's how, Frank told himself as he felt waves of panic ebb away.
"Nothing's going on now," Frank declared. "The situation is dealt with. The bad guys are locked up. The police just need to pick them up."
Fenton slowly considered his son's words and then told Frank he was coming. He asked for the address. Frank frowned. He looked over to Joe, asking him what the address of the shop was, covering his phone with his hand, Joe reeled it off. Frank parroted it back.
"Who's there with you?" Fenton asked when he confirmed he had gotten the address correctly.
Frank glanced toward Joe, shocked to see that he had hung up the phone. Frank didn't think you were meant to do that when you called the police. But then he guessed Joe wasn't exactly used to listening to law enforcement. The blond teenager met Frank's eyes with confusion.
"Joe," Frank replied, unsteadily.
"Joe?" Fenton gasped. "Can I… Can I talk to him?"
Frank slowly lowered the phone, his hands shaking. He held Joe's gaze for a moment.
"He wants to talk to you."
There was a shocked expression on Joe's face, the slightest shake of the head. Frank was just preparing to lift the phone to his ear, offer his father apologies as he admitted he didn't think Joe was ready for that. But then a hand was extended in his direction. Frank carefully handed over the phone. He watched as Joe drew in a shuddering breath and lifted the phone to his ear.
"M… Mr Hardy?" he whispered.
"Joe?" was all Fenton could manage in return.
"I…"
Joe swallowed thickly, all words leaving him.
"Son, can you tell me if you're okay? Are you hurt at all?"
"Nothing… Nothing I can't handle. Sir."
The sir was clearly an afterthought. Frank could see the effort so clearly on Joe's face. He wasn't sure what he was doing, fumbling blindly through the conversation.
"I'll be fine," Joe said after a few moments. "Frank's with me."
"I… I need you to stay there. I give my word I won't allow anyone to hurt you. But I can't get you the help you need if you aren't there."
"I'll be there," Joe promised.
Then he hung up the call. He paused for a moment, glancing toward Frank as if expecting to be scolded for it. Frank was gentle, moving forward slowly, carefully prizing the phone from Joe's grasp. He decided to give him some space, focus on what the phone might be able to tell them about Marsden's operations. But he couldn't focus. His gaze kept flicking onto Joe. And it wasn't like Marsden's phone offered him much. Most of the apps were for entertainment, most of the files were photographs of items that Frank assumed had gone on some website.
"What sort of stuff do you watch?" Frank asked, eventually.
Joe shifted, rolling his back like his muscles were coming out of a complete shutdown. He turned towards Frank and his dull expression told Frank he hadn't heard the question, just the voice. He repeated it, relishing the intelligent confusion he received in response to the question.
"What?" Joe asked, brow furrowed.
He wasn't defensive. Frank wasn't sure if he was simply too tired to be defensive.
"You like action?" Frank asked.
Joe scoffed gently and nodded. Frank grinned in return and sunk down against one wall. He patted the grimy floor, inviting Joe to join him. He pulled out his phone and brought up the Netflix app on Marsden's phone.
"Might as well do something while we wait," he said. "I'll find something on we can watch."
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