Chap 10

Dedicated to God and Fluffy Kitty (thanks for posting)

Pov Frank

Bullets hit the ground around me as I pull Joe behind a cement planter.

Machine gun fire rips into the wooden cottage inches above me and Joe.

Joe groans. Blood covers his blonde hair and right eye.

Before I can examine him, more bullets hit the house. Our attackers are moving in.

Desperate to defend us, I fire my last three bullets. We are now sitting ducks.

A whirlpool of dark memories, fear and panic drag me under. How can I protect Joe when I am out of ammo?

"Frank?" Joe's voice drags me back to the present.

"Right here," I say.

I put myself between Joe and the guys trying to kill us.

The sun glints off the gold cross Joe wears around his neck. Iola's last gift to Joe before she died.

"Iola, you know I don't believe in God, but if you could just save Joe," I mutter.

A huge guy in kevlar bullet proof vest steps out. He points a gun at me.

"Time to say goodbye," the guy growls and points a gun at my head.

"I don't think so," Dad says in a cold voice from somewhere behind me.

"Drop it or I kill them," machine gun guy says.

"I am aiming for your seventh vertebrae. If I pull the trigger, you'll spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair," Dad says.

"I kill the first one in five seconds unless you drop the gun," the guy says and sticks his gun closer to me.

"Now my gun is pointed at your first vertebrae. Means you won't be able to move your arms or legs," Dad says.

I hear two guns fire. Am I dead?

Machine gun guy is on the ground. Sam has his gun.

A bullet is buried in the wood siding half an inch to the left of my head. I slump to the ground.

"Easy Frank. This guy was about to pull the trigger on you," Sam says as he cuffs the man's hands behind his back. "I knocked out and cuffed the other guy."

I hear sirens as Dad holsters his gun.

"Are you two ok?" Dad asks.

"Hey, little help here," Joe says from underneath me.

With Dad's help, I roll to one side.

"Joe! What happened!" Dad says as he sees blood in Joe's hair.

A medic examines Joe.

"A piece of wood from the house hit him," I explain.

"Might want to get him checked over," the medic says.

"No," Joe says. "Wanna stay home."

"Look Bud, your house is history," the medic says. "Looks like a teardown to me."

I glare at the medic.

Joe struggles to sit up. I see the shock and pain in his blue eyes.

Wood shards from the house litter the sand. Joe's cottage has hundreds of bullet holes. My BMW is also collateral damage. Miraculously Joe's black Mustang doesn't have a scratch.

How did I let this happen? The one place Joe could relax and remember Iola is destroyed.

"Gone," Joe whispers.

I have no words to fix this.

"Joe, look at me," Dad says. He puts his hand on Joe's shoulder.

"Do you trust me?" Dad asks.

Joe nods yes.

"I'll take care of this," Dad says.

Four hours later Joe has had a tetanus shot, fifteen stitches and the worst hospital haircut of his life.

I drive a quiet Joe back to my condo. As we get out of Joe's Mustang, Mr. Green, the president of the Homeowners Association, walks up.

"Franklin, I trust you have an approved guest request," Green says.

"I can stay at a hotel," Joe mumbles.

"Not happening," I say. "Everything is taken care of."

"Are you sure?" Green asks.

"Positive," I say and shut the front door of my condo before he can step inside.

"Look Frank, just drop me off at the Holiday Inn," Joe says.

"No," I say. "While we were at the hospital I called Victoria in the front office. She owes me a favor. She filed and approved the paperwork. How about I help you upstairs to my spare bedroom?"

"Ok if I just crash on your couch?" Joe asks and falls on a cushion.

"Sure, I'll open up a can of soup for lunch."

Five minutes later I return with a tray of soup and crackers. Joe is asleep. I don't have the heart to wake him.

My cell phone goes off.

"Hardy," I growl.

"Frank, have you and Joe worked on any cases I don't know about?" Dad asks.

"Not lately. Why?"

"I can't find a connection between the guys who shot up Joe's house and any of our old cases. No idea what these guys have against us."

Dad gives me their names: Leonard Mulis and Ted Staris.

I hang up, activate my condo's security system and fire up my computer.

Two hours later I've learned Leo and Ted are international assassins. I hack into their computer accounts but everything is encrypted. I activate a program to decode their messages. It's highly accurate but will take hours.

I walk to the kitchen to grab more coffee. I need the caffeine.

I trip over Joe's bag. His Bible falls out and lands on Psalm 33.

Joe has highlighted a few verses.

"No king is saved by the size of his army; no warrior escapes by his great strength; the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear Him. "

I remember my overwhelming fear when I couldn't protect Joe from the machine gun guys. . . and my whispered prayer.

Did it make a difference?

Pov Joe

A woman's scream wakes me. Why am I sleeping on Frank's couch?

The woman screams again. I shove my feet in my sneakers and open Frank's front door.

A tattooed man pulls a gray haired women out of her Mercedes. I try to run, but my weak leg slows me down. Feels like I'm moving in slow motion.

By the time I reach them, the old woman is lying in a heap on the road.

The guy revs the Mercedes. He aims the car at the lady. Only one option and it's going to hurt.

I grit my teeth to brace for the pain. I run and tackle the lady. As I hit the pavement I roll both of us out of the way of the car.

Pain shoots through my body. The car misses us by inches.

Tires screech as the car leaves dark skid marks on the road..

I focus on the car's license plate ASD 137.

An elderly woman runs up. "I called 911."

"Thanks," I say.

The older woman on the sidewalk gasps and holds her chest.

"Bernice, is it your heart?" the woman asks.

Bernice nods.

"Her medicine is in her purse," the woman says.

I scan the ground – no purse. It must be in the stolen car.

A vintage motorcycle is parked in the lot.

I push down with my good leg. The bike starts. I wobble down the road as I try to keep my balance. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. I haven't ridden for months.

But Bernice needs her heart medicine. I have no choice. I just hope my battered body holds up until I catch this guy.

I squeal around the corner with a prayer on my lips and fighting to keep the motorcycle under control.