Smuff stared, wide-eyed at Frank as the shot reverberated in the small shed. The bullet thunked harmlessly into the wooden wall behind him. “You – you shot at me?” he stammered, his voice much higher pitched than usual.

Frank regarded him coldly, “Consider that your warning.” The detective couldn’t tell if the kid was bluffing or not. He certainly didn’t look like he was; in fact, he looked like he was just waiting for an excuse! The shaken man had not even considered that either boy might know how to use a gun – let alone with any proficiency!

Fenton Hardy felt the best defense against a firearm was the knowledge of how to properly handle and shoot one, so he took his sons to the shooting range regularly, and while Joe was an excellent shot, Frank turned out to be a natural marksman; he had the patience and steady hand of a sniper.

“Now put down the knife,” the teen continued, “I won’t be asking again.”

Immediately Smuff opened his hand and let the deadly weapon fall to the floor with a dull thud. His narrowed eyes never left Frank’s face.

“Okay,” Frank continued, easily holding the man’s glare, “Now, nice and slow, I want you to untie my brother and then step back away from the cot. Don’t try anything stupid. It’d be a shame for me to have to put a hole in you now.” His voice held a warning note – he really didn’t want to shoot Smuff but he also wouldn’t hesitate to do so…if he had to. His brother’s safety or Smuff? There was no question in his mind.

He watched as the man moved towards the small cot and only then did he risk a glance at his brother to see if he was okay. Joe had his eyes squeezed shut, his face was pale and Frank could see him trembling from where he stood – his brother was obviously terrified, and the older boy’s heart wrenched seeing him like that!

And then he saw Joe’s arm and had to force himself to take a deep breath and stay calm for both their sakes – he couldn’t afford to unhinge now. The arm was most definitely broken, and Frank had no doubts by whom! Clenching his jaw tightly, the boy had to consciously ease up on the pressure on the trigger; the temptation was almost overwhelming.

* * *

Oscar Smuff’s mind raced as he slowly released one of Joe’s ankles. He was pretty sure that the kid wasn’t bluffing – it would make sense for Fenton Hardy to have trained his boys on guns – and he saw no hesitancy on Frank’s face, that was for sure! In fact, the look the boy was giving him was downright chilling.

He needed a plan...and then as he moved on to the other ankle, he bit back a small smile – he had one. Glancing up at the blond boy’s face, the detective nodded almost imperceptibly. He could make this work, and Joe was going to help him!

* * *

Joe felt Smuff’s hands on his ankle and shuddered. He knew that Frank was here – he had heard his voice and even flinched when the gun went off, but mentally he was in shock, as the resurfaced memories blended with current fears to paralyze him. His mind barely even registered the throbbing pain in his arm anymore…

* * *

Frank watched warily, expecting Smuff to try something. He moved away from the door and closer to his bound brother. He would have preferred not to have the man anywhere near Joe but right now he didn’t have a choice. With nothing to subdue the older man, Frank needed to keep the gun on him.

‘Where is Dad?’ the teen wondered absently as he hoped that nothing had happened to Callie and that she’d been able to make the call.

Frank’s stomach churned as he risked a glance down at his former Little League coach. He knew without checking that the man was dead, and he felt a perverse sense of relief over that. That was one less person to worry about.

He saw Smuff moving to undo Joe’s wrist and then everything happened too fast! Before he could even fire a shot, the man had grabbed Joe, pulled him off the bed and up in front of him. Frank couldn’t shoot now – he might hit Joe!

* * *

Joe cried out, immediately grabbing his injured arm to support it as he was hauled roughly onto his feet. For one brief moment he didn’t think his legs were going to support his weight – but they did, and he was pulled in front of Oscar Smuff, his body shielding the detective’s from Frank!

* * *

‘Damn’ Frank cursed himself, forcing himself to keep the gun steady on Smuff. Normally the boy wouldn’t have hesitated to take the shot, but not with his brother so close. No, he couldn’t risk shooting Joe – he’d wait for the perfect shot and then he’d take it.

“I’m going to leave this shed, and you’re going to let me,” Smuff told him as he wrapped his arm around Joe’s neck and pulled him closer to his own body, “unless you think you’re good enough to take me out without hitting your brother.” He taunted the boy, “So tell me this – are you good enough, Frank?  Are you?  Can you kill me without killing him?” He started to push Joe towards the shed door.

Frank ignored the goading as he closed one eye and concentrated on Smuff, blocking out everything else and totally focusing on what he had to do. He wanted the man disabled – not dead. Death would be too easy. He wanted the dirty detective to go to jail and have a lot of time to think. ‘No one hurts my brother and gets away with it’, he vowed.

Smuff was weaving around behind Joe, making it more difficult to get a good fix on him as Frank needed to make a non-lethal shot, without injuring his brother. ‘Difficult but not impossible’, he told himself as the world narrowed down to just him and Smuff. Perspiration trickled down his forehead and into his eyes but he refused to blink. Around him, time stood still.

Smuff and Joe were still moving – almost to the door now.

Frank never moved; he just slowly followed them with his eyes and the gun. He’d get his opening, he knew it; he just had to be patient…

* * *

Joe stumbled as they got to the doorway, and that was the opening Frank needed! Without hesitation, he fired and then rushed the few feet separating them and grabbed his brother, pulling him away from Smuff!

Smuff groaned, his hand flying to his shoulder as he fell back against the wall. “You b-bastard,” he cursed Frank, “You shot me!” And then he slumped down. “Ow – oh Jesus, it hurts!  Ow!  Ow!”

Frank ignored him but kept the gun in his hand; he wrapped his other arm tightly around his brother’s shoulders and let out a heavy sigh of relief. “It’s okay, Joe,” he told his trembling brother. “You’re safe now. It’s all over!” The younger boy never answered him; just pressed in a bit closer, held his injured arm tightly to his side and leaned his head against Frank’s arm, letting out a shuddering breath as he did so. Worried, the older boy glanced down at his face even as he wondered what was taking their father and the police so long!

* * *

Smuff lifted his eyes towards the brothers briefly, before slewing them across to where the knife was still on the floor where he had dropped it. One thought drove him: ‘I will not go to jail’. It was the same conviction that had killed Tex, Ramon and Iago – and it was this determination that would kill Frank and Joe Hardy.

The gunshot wound in his shoulder hurt like hell but self-preservation was a powerful motivator…

The man watched as Frank glanced down, momentarily distracted by the traumatized younger boy, and Smuff made his move. In one fluid movement he snatched up the knife and dove towards Frank!

The startled teen lifted his head and stared in shock – but then two quick shots filled the night and the body of Oscar Smuff crumpled to the floor.

Frank’s head whipped around and then he sagged back against the wall in relief, as he dropped the gun he had been holding and carefully wrapped both arms around his shaking brother. It really was all over now.

* * *

Sam Radley, standing in the doorway, lowered his gun. And then their father was there, his arms engulfing them, his face melting with relief.

That had been close…too close….