Sorry this took a few days to post, but it has really been the hardest part to write. It has been rewritten so many times I hope you like the result.Thank you to all who are still reading, the final chapter should be up tomorrow.
When Jerry's car drove past the front window, and pulled up on the drive, I could feel my anger rising. I'd been pissed off at my brothers before but this time it was different. Never have I felt this sort of rage against one of my own, and I didn't know whether I could stop myself from just laying Jerry out the second he walked through the door.
I managed to last about fifteen seconds before my fist connected with Jerry's jaw, and he went down hard. The fear I saw in his eyes reminded me of when he'd first come to the house, but I couldn't allow that to get in the way of finding the truth. I give him credit, he got back up and got a good punch in on Angel, sending Angel crashing into the bookcase. Standing his ground, he took on board what we were accusing him of. Our words wounding him more than the punch I threw.
He'd been paying all Ma's bills, and his own, even after his business was shut down. He'd refused to pay for protection, so Sweet used Douglas to shut him down. The money he'd given Evan was to get his business started up again. After finding out Jerry's side I didn't know whether to hug him, for helping Ma through a rough patch, or slap him upside the head, for being dumb enough to pay the money in the end. I could see it in his eyes, and by the way he was reacting, that he was telling the truth.
With all the fighting and the accusations being thrown around, I missed Jack leaving the room. I hadn't expected him to stay as long as he did, but as always the fairy surprised me. I looked toward the stairs, making a mental note to check on him, and that's when I noticed the front door wide open. My heart lurched, you know that feeling where it jumps into your throat then sinks into your stomach and fills it with dread.
I can remember running to grab one of the shooters shotguns, from the bag under the table, then charging to the front door. If it had been an innocent caller I would've apologised later. For some reason my instinct was screaming that something was wrong, and I haven't lived this long by ignoring it.
I barrelled through the front door, but before I could get through the porch I heard the one noise I never wanted to hear outside my house. Pausing at the porch door I saw Jack fall to his knees. Blood started to spread across the back of his shirt at an alarming rate. The guy in front of him, wearing a hockey mask, levelled his pistol straight at Jacks head.
Without thinking I snapped up the shotgun and fired, watching the guy fall to the ground. My body stood frozen as Jack struggled to his feet and half ran, half stumbled, toward the house. He'd seen what I failed to notice, more guys in ski masks, toting enough firepower to start a small war, pouring from two vans down the street. They opened fire, and I saw Jack fall for a second time that day, bullets ripping through his legs.
My survival instinct kicked in and I dived back into the porch, as the bullets flew my way. My heart broke each time Jack screamed for me, the person that had saved him in that dark alley years before. The person who had always promised him no one would hurt him again.
I managed to take out two of the gunmen before being forced to wait it out, as all hell broke lose around me. I don't know how long the actual shootout lasted, it felt like hours; hours of me praying Jack was okay; hours of me laying on the floor being unable to help him; hours of not being able to fight back.
In reality it must have been no more than five minutes, and they were the longest five minutes of my life. When they stopped to reload, I knew it might be my only chance. Seizing a brick from the floor I launched it out the door at one of the gunmen, followed quickly by myself. It was one of those moments where I don't remember how long I pounded on this guy for, but my knuckles would pay the price later.
I could hear Angel calling to me but I couldn't stop my fists from flying, needing to vent the rage inside. From out of nowhere Angel tackled me sideways. As I was about to royally chew him out for ruining the good swinging rhythm I had set up, Jerry's Volvo ploughed into the van I hadn't noticed heading my way.
It was then I realised the bullets had stopped flying. Scrambling across the front yard I made my way to where Jack laid in the freezing snow. His face pale and lined with pain, blood pooling around his body at an alarming rate. His breathing ragged. His eyes were shining, saying more than he ever could with words, as his eyelids drifted shut.
Guilt and despair ran through me, as my heart stopped and my blood ran cold. I needed answers, as to who was behind all of this, and I needed them now. Grabbing up a gun, I stormed over to the van, wrenched open the door, and levelled the barrel to the driver's temple. If my brain had been in charge of my actions I would have left the guy alive so the police had proof as to who ordered this but my trigger finger has always had a mind of its own. I still managed to get the answer I had been looking for. Sweet was the one who had sent them. Sweet was the one who would pay.
Green arrived just as the last body bag was being zipped up. I told him Sweet was behind all of it and he didn't bat an eyelid. What surprised me is when he told us that Ma knew what was going on with Jerry's business, and had filed a police report against Victor Sweet and Councilman Douglas. Fowler had then handed the report straight to Sweet, sealing our mother's fate. She'd been killed for trying to protect her son.
Green left us with two promises, first, the report on the shootout would say that we acted in self defence, secondly, he would deal with Fowler. If my head hadn't been spinning, from all the events and new information it had to process that day, I would have been right there beside him. Maybe then he wouldn't have been shot, left to bleed to death, in an alley not five hours later.