As Fluffy Kitty says sorry for the long wait, but you can't have quality and quantity. :)
Chapter 8
Pov Frank
"Brothers?" the thug asks and laughs. "You must not like him. He's half dead."
He points his gun at Joe's head and tightens his arm around my brother's neck.
Inside I am dying, but outside I force myself to look calm. I can't let this guy get under my skin. Joe's life depends on me keeping control. Dad trained me better than this. I stuff all my emotions down and give the guy a cold stare.
"Were you with him when he got hurt?" the thug asks.
I nod once.
"Yeah, you want him out of the way," he says. "I can do that for you."
The guy is playing mind games with me. I force myself not to react. I stare at him.
"If you care about him, how come he's half dead?" he asks. "Answer me or I'll kill him."
"I messed up," I whisper.
"No you didn't…" Joe says.
He stops talking when the thug tightens his arm around Joe's neck. Joe's face turns red. He is suffocating and I can't stop it.
"Maybe you don't deserve to have a brother," the thug says.
I am frozen. Joe is suffering in front of me. I can't help him. I have no idea how to save Joe.
Pov Joe
"I'll kill you," the gunman whispers. "Then I'll kill your brother."
I can't breathe. Black spots dance in front of my eyes. I hate you, God. You let somebody almost kill me. My body is a mess. Not sure I'll ever be in good enough shape to be Frank's partner. But I'm not letting anyone hurt Frank.
My hand closes over something behind me. I grab it. With the last of my strength, I crash the object into the guy's head. The gun fires. I fall to the floor.
Pov Frank
When the gun goes off, Joe falls to the floor. His attacker lands on top of Joe.
Is Joe shot? I grab the thug's arm and pull him off Joe. I almost lose my grip. Joe's in no shape to fight this guy. I grip the guy's arm and shove it back until I feel the bone break. The guy shouts in pain just as the cops arrive. I throw the guy to the floor.
Joe lies in a bloody heap. His neck is red and bruised. I look him over. No blood.
"Where's the bullet?" I ask.
"Roberts' paneling took one for the team," Joe whispers. He looks at a piece of paneling lying on the carpet.
" What happened?" Con Riley, a friend on the police force, asks.
"Not sure, the guy had a gun on Joe when I came out of the bathroom," I say.
"He yelled something about the bank foreclosing on his home," Joe whispers and winces as he sits up.
"Joe hit him with something…," I say.
I see the cracked Abraham Lincoln Chia Pet in pieces on the floor.
"My bad,"Joe whispers and smiles.
Almost like old times until Joe turns deathly pale. I look at Robert's clock. We missed Joe's pain pills. How did I mess this up so bad? First I almost let Joe get killed and now he's in pain because of me.
I grab the pills out of my pocket. Joe swallows them, lies on the floor and closes his eyes.
"Do you want me to call an ambulance?" Con asks.
"Going home," Joe whispers and forces open his blue eyes.
"You need to get checked over," I say.
Joe gives mecthe look. The one that makes me throw caution to the wind and do whatever he wants. I realize the thought of going home is what has kept Joe fighting for the last month.
"Okay, we'll go home," I say.
"Uh Frank, how you gonna explain this to your dad?" Con asks.
Good question. Dad has gone into grizzly bear mode ever since Joe got hurt.
"No idea," I say. I wrap my arm around Joe's waist and put his arm over my shoulder. "Tell him we'll be at my condo."
"My place," Joe whispers.
I can tell from his stiff movements that Joe is hurting.
"Fine, tell Dad we'll be at Joe's," I say.
"Is it still standing?" Con asks and laughs.
He opens the passenger door of my car. I help Joe in and fasten his seatbelt.
Joe bought a rundown beach cottage six months ago. Dad called it the worst use of money he had ever seen. He and Joe weren't speaking when Joe got hurt. I think Dad feels guilty.
When I park by the cottage, Joe seems at peace. Like he's somewhere his physical pain can't find him at least for a moment.
I shake my head when I see the sagging cottage roof.
I still can't believe Joe bought a place without a garage. He spent months restoring his black Mustang. Now the car sits out in the salty sea air covered with a tarp.
I half-carry half-drag Joe up the steps to the front porch. The bottom step cracks in two when I step on it.
"Been meaning to fix that," Joe whispers.
"Uh-huh," I say.
We have an unspoken agreement- I don't ask Joe about his house and he doesn't ask me about Callie, my old girlfriend.
Joe unlocks the front door. I help him to the sofa. While I grab a pillow and blanket, I remember Dad calls this place a deathtrap. Probably because the wiring is so old Joe can't install a home security system. But maybe the house will defend itself – like how the front porch step almost killed me.
Joe looks so young lying there in his Avengers 13) band t-shirt. Joe loves their music. It gives me a headache.
I cover Joe with a blanket and wait for the pain meds to kick in. I need to distract Joe. Get his mind off the pain.
"I still remember the look on Dad's face when you told us you bought this place," I say and smile.
"Thought he was gonna have a heart attack," Joe mumbles and smiles.
"Dad almost killed you," I say. "Good thing you're good with God."
Joe's smile vanishes. He knows I don't believe, but I like that Joe's faith comforts him. But the look on Joe's face makes me uneasy.
"You are still a Christian, right?" I ask.
"Yeah, but I'm not talking to God right now," Joe says.
"Okaaay. So let me get this straight, you are giving God the silent treatment?" I ask and smile. "Why are you mad?"
"Next topic," Joe says through teeth clenched in pain.
"Why did you buy this place?" I ask.
I figure by the time Joe figures out how to avoid answering , he will be asleep. I can't figure what Joe wants with all this old stuff. He hates fixing houses as much as he loves working on cars. I look around. The walls are cracked which means the foundation needs work. The roof sags, there is no insulation and the plumbing is on borrowed time.
Joe ignores me and lays on the couch. His relaxed muscles tell me the pain meds have finally kicked in. I brush his hair off his forehead and realize he is almost asleep.
Dad walks in the back door. Joe doesn't even know he is there.
"How is he?" Dad asks.
"Almost asleep," I answer.
Dad frowns as he looks at the leaking faucet. "This whole house should have been condemned or bulldozed. Joe doesn't have the time or patience to renovate this house. He's never been about all this old stuff."
Dad is right. The kitchen floor has an alarming downhill slope. The original appliances are from the 1950 and I doubt any work.
"I still remember when Joe told you he bought this place," I say and smile. "You told him to torch it."
"I still think we should," Dad says. "What if the place collapses on him?"
I open a kitchen cupboard to get a glass. The wooden door comes off and crashes to the floor.
"Frank! You ok?" Joe calls from the living room couch.
"Never better," I say and walk to Joe. I put my hand on his shoulder.
Joe has never told anyone why he bought this place. Even though he has been teased without mercy by everyone
"She asked me to marry her on this beach," Joe whispers.
"Who?" I ask.
Dad holds a glass of water in his hands.
"Iola," Joe whispers.
Dad drops the glass. It shatters on the floor.
Iola was Joe's girlfriend in high school. She died when our car exploded. Someone wanted to kill Dad, instead Iola died.
The pain pills have worked their magic. Joe is so relaxed he didn't even open his eyes when Dad dropped the glass.
"Gonna live here after the wedding," Joe whispers. "Add on a couple bedrooms for our kids. Play with them on the beach. We were gonna sit on the deck every night, hold hands and watch the sunset."
Silence. I have no idea what to say. How do I comfort Joe?
"House is all I have left of her ," Joe whispers. "Watch sunsets and pretend she is still alive."
"Promise?" Joe asks.
"Anything," I say and put my hand on Joe's shoulder.
"Don't tell Dad. Don't want him to feel bad," Joe whispers before falling asleep.
Dad stares at us. The color drains from his face. He runs out of the room. The back door slams. Dad is gone.