"I'm off now," seventeen-year-old, blond-headed Joe Hardy said, poking his head into the doorway of his year older brother's room. "Sure you don't want a ride?"
Frank shook his head, a lock of his wavy brown hair falling out of place and positioning itself on his forehead. "Callie's picking me up," he said, declining the offer. "But we'll meet you at Mr. P's."
"See you there," Joe said, his blue eyes twinkling as he saw Frank's brown ones slide over him.
"Freeze!" Frank ordered. "I was looking for that shirt."
"I would have asked but you were in the shower," Joe explained with a sheepish grin. "Besides this one looks better on me than it does on you."
"But it's my shirt," Frank said, frowning.
"Your point being?" Joe demanded, slightly amused. "I thought you knew how to share," he added, crossing his arms in front of his chest and causing his muscles to ripple beneath the taut fabric.
Frank opened his mouth to argue but closed it and sighed. Joe should have asked to borrow his shirt but he was right; it did look better on him. "Just ask next time," he said.
"I will," promised Joe. "I'm sorry. Want me to take it off? It will only take a minute to change."
"No need." Frank replied seeing real contrition in Joe's eyes. "You might as well keep it," he added, grinning. "It does look better on you but..." he paused for effect. "You owe me a shirt."
"Just pick it out," Joe agreed.
"You better go. Isn't Vanessa waiting on you at Mr. Pizza?" Frank asked, lifting an eyebrow questioningly.
"Yeah," Joe said, his eyes widening as he glanced down at his watch. "See you there."
Joe pulled the van to a stop in the parking lot of Mr. Pizza. The restaurant was an authentic Italian pizzeria run by the family of one of Joe's best friends, Tony Prito, who had been born in the states only weeks after his parents' arrival.
Joe looked around the lot and was thankful Vanessa was inside holding a table for them. The place was packed! Joe closed the door of the van and started for the building. A van pulled into the parking lot and Joe stopped to let it drive by but instead it stopped in front of him and two men leapt from the back. Joe was taken by his arms and pulled into the van which then drove through the lot and out the exit. The entire incident had taken less than sixty seconds.
"I'm sorry we're so late," apologized blond-headed Callie Shaw for the tenth time since she had picked up her boyfriend.
"Would you forget it?" Frank demanded, his brown eyes twinkling as he looked at the graceful figure of his seventeen-year-old girlfriend. "Joe and Vanessa are holding a table for us and maybe, if we're lucky, they will have already ordered and we won't have to wait forever."
Callie turned and smiled at her handsome boyfriend after she parked her Nova next to the Hardys' van and shut off the engine. "Have I told you lately that I love you?" she asked, her brown eyes locking with his.
"Not since this morning," he returned playfully, leaning over and giving her a kiss before getting out of the passenger side and going to the driver's door to hold it open for her. "For the record," he added softly as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "I love you too."
The two made their way inside, stopping just inside the entrance to look around. "Over there," Callie said, pointing to an area where two tables had been pushed together and Joe's girlfriend, blond headed, seventeen year old Vanessa Bender, sat laughing at something chubby, blond headed Chet Morton was saying.
"Looks like all the gang's here," Frank said as they headed over.
"Hey!" greeted sandy haired Phil Cohen. "Took you guys long enough," he added.
"My fault," Callie said. "It took me twenty minutes to find my car keys."
"Where did you find them?" asked, blond and beefy Biff Hooper.
"In the ignition," Callie confessed, blushing a bit.
"Where's Joe?" Frank and Vanessa asked at the same time.
do you mean?" Frank demanded, his brown eyes hardening as he looked into Vanessa's gray ones. "He left home about thirty minutes ago and the van is in the parking lot."
"He hasn't come in," Tony said, frowning.
"Phil, check the restroom," Frank ordered. "Chet; Biff; let's check outside."
"I'll start asking around," Tony said, heading over to one of the tables. Since he was working he couldn't leave but he was going to do whatever he could to help.
Vanessa stood up. "Let's ask around too," she suggested to Callie and Helen and Karen. Helen Osbourne was Chet's steady date and Karen Black had dated Biff on and off, mostly on, for the past nine months.
All four girls started circulating around the crowded restaurant, returning to the table just as Frank, Biff and Chet returned. Phil was already sitting down and drumming his fingers impatiently.
"He wasn't outside," Frank told them, his voice thick with concern. As the sons of Fenton Hardy, a world famous private investigator formerly of the New York City Police Department, Frank and Joe were well aware of the importance of being where they were supposed to be. Since becoming detectives themselves, they never missed a meeting with each other without calling or leaving some sort of message. Since Joe was not here and the van was, there was only one conclusion Frank could arrive at.
"Joe's been kidnapped."
Frank shook his head, a lock of his wavy brown hair falling out of place and positioning itself on his forehead. "Callie's picking me up," he said, declining the offer. "But we'll meet you at Mr. P's."
"See you there," Joe said, his blue eyes twinkling as he saw Frank's brown ones slide over him.
"Freeze!" Frank ordered. "I was looking for that shirt."
"I would have asked but you were in the shower," Joe explained with a sheepish grin. "Besides this one looks better on me than it does on you."
"But it's my shirt," Frank said, frowning.
"Your point being?" Joe demanded, slightly amused. "I thought you knew how to share," he added, crossing his arms in front of his chest and causing his muscles to ripple beneath the taut fabric.
Frank opened his mouth to argue but closed it and sighed. Joe should have asked to borrow his shirt but he was right; it did look better on him. "Just ask next time," he said.
"I will," promised Joe. "I'm sorry. Want me to take it off? It will only take a minute to change."
"No need." Frank replied seeing real contrition in Joe's eyes. "You might as well keep it," he added, grinning. "It does look better on you but..." he paused for effect. "You owe me a shirt."
"Just pick it out," Joe agreed.
"You better go. Isn't Vanessa waiting on you at Mr. Pizza?" Frank asked, lifting an eyebrow questioningly.
"Yeah," Joe said, his eyes widening as he glanced down at his watch. "See you there."
Joe pulled the van to a stop in the parking lot of Mr. Pizza. The restaurant was an authentic Italian pizzeria run by the family of one of Joe's best friends, Tony Prito, who had been born in the states only weeks after his parents' arrival.
Joe looked around the lot and was thankful Vanessa was inside holding a table for them. The place was packed! Joe closed the door of the van and started for the building. A van pulled into the parking lot and Joe stopped to let it drive by but instead it stopped in front of him and two men leapt from the back. Joe was taken by his arms and pulled into the van which then drove through the lot and out the exit. The entire incident had taken less than sixty seconds.
"I'm sorry we're so late," apologized blond-headed Callie Shaw for the tenth time since she had picked up her boyfriend.
"Would you forget it?" Frank demanded, his brown eyes twinkling as he looked at the graceful figure of his seventeen-year-old girlfriend. "Joe and Vanessa are holding a table for us and maybe, if we're lucky, they will have already ordered and we won't have to wait forever."
Callie turned and smiled at her handsome boyfriend after she parked her Nova next to the Hardys' van and shut off the engine. "Have I told you lately that I love you?" she asked, her brown eyes locking with his.
"Not since this morning," he returned playfully, leaning over and giving her a kiss before getting out of the passenger side and going to the driver's door to hold it open for her. "For the record," he added softly as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "I love you too."
The two made their way inside, stopping just inside the entrance to look around. "Over there," Callie said, pointing to an area where two tables had been pushed together and Joe's girlfriend, blond headed, seventeen year old Vanessa Bender, sat laughing at something chubby, blond headed Chet Morton was saying.
"Looks like all the gang's here," Frank said as they headed over.
"Hey!" greeted sandy haired Phil Cohen. "Took you guys long enough," he added.
"My fault," Callie said. "It took me twenty minutes to find my car keys."
"Where did you find them?" asked, blond and beefy Biff Hooper.
"In the ignition," Callie confessed, blushing a bit.
"Where's Joe?" Frank and Vanessa asked at the same time.
do you mean?" Frank demanded, his brown eyes hardening as he looked into Vanessa's gray ones. "He left home about thirty minutes ago and the van is in the parking lot."
"He hasn't come in," Tony said, frowning.
"Phil, check the restroom," Frank ordered. "Chet; Biff; let's check outside."
"I'll start asking around," Tony said, heading over to one of the tables. Since he was working he couldn't leave but he was going to do whatever he could to help.
Vanessa stood up. "Let's ask around too," she suggested to Callie and Helen and Karen. Helen Osbourne was Chet's steady date and Karen Black had dated Biff on and off, mostly on, for the past nine months.
All four girls started circulating around the crowded restaurant, returning to the table just as Frank, Biff and Chet returned. Phil was already sitting down and drumming his fingers impatiently.
"He wasn't outside," Frank told them, his voice thick with concern. As the sons of Fenton Hardy, a world famous private investigator formerly of the New York City Police Department, Frank and Joe were well aware of the importance of being where they were supposed to be. Since becoming detectives themselves, they never missed a meeting with each other without calling or leaving some sort of message. Since Joe was not here and the van was, there was only one conclusion Frank could arrive at.
"Joe's been kidnapped."