*A HUGE thank you goes out to my roommate Khris. Without her, I never would have got this written. Especially the pool game.*

For a long moment Joe just lay on the dusty ground, blood oozing from a split lower lip, gazing up at Frank both shocked and hurt. Shocked because someone had punched him, and hurt because it was his own brother that had been that someone.

But it didn't take long for that shock and hurt to merge together into white-hot anger. No one punched him and got away with it scot-free. Not even his own brother. He wasn't going to give Frank the satisfaction of knowing he had hurt Joe.

He quickly got to his feet and lunged at his older brother, knocking them both to the hard ground. Gritting his teeth, Joe hit him with the hardest right hook he could manage, sending blood spraying from the older Hardy's nose. Frank tried to get his arms free to hit back, but Joe had him pinned down good.

"Stop it!"

Joe's head snapped up and his grip loosened on Frank. That had been Kinzy who had cried out. He knew it.

Frank took advantage of his brother's distraction to push him off of him and scrambled to his feet. Joe quickly did the same, his attention switching back to the problem at hand, and soon they were facing off, fists raised in a fighting stance. If it's a fight Frank wants, then it's a fight Frank is going to get, Joe thought angrily, ignoring the stinging coming from his split lip.

"Please, stop it," Kinzy pleaded as she ran up to the fighting brothers, ready to jump in the middle of them if she had to. "Don't ruin your lives because of me."

Frank shot the girl a disgusted look. I can't believe i even thought about caring about her. She's ruined everything!

"Stay out of this," he snarled at her. If he wasn't in the middle of fighting his brother, he might have hit her instead, that's how mad he was. "You've caused enough trouble already. This is all your fault!"

"Hey!" Joe jumped towards his brother, eyes flashing in anger, his fists rising even higher. "Don't yell at her like that. Leave her out of this!"

With a shout of rage, Frank swung at Joe again, but he managed to dodge it. He returned it with a strong uppercut that caught Frank square in the chin, sending him crashing back down to the ground. Joe stood over him, fists clenched tight, hatred flashing in his normally friendly blue eyes.

Kinzy let out a tortured cry, then turned and raced back to the four-wheeler as fast as possible.

"Kinzy, wait!" Leaving his brother lying on the ground with blood pouring from both his nose and mouth, Joe turned and ran after the distraught girl. Frank lunged at him, trying to grab his ankle and pull him down too, but Joe managed to dance out of his reach.

Frank watched from where he lay on the ground, his anger growing even more, as Joe began to have a heated discussion with Kinzy, who looked extremely upset. She just kept shaking her head firmly while he seemed to be pleading with her about something.

He's probably begging her not to leave him here, the older Hardy boy thought to himself as he picked himself up off the ground. He's got to have someone, because he knows good and well that I'm never going to speak to him again. And, if he doesn't watch his mouth, I'll hit harder the next time he says something I don't like. He clenched his fists so tight that his fingernails began to dig into his skin. But he ignored it, along with the blood that was pouring from his nose and the corner of his mouth. I>I can't believe my own brother betrayed me like that. Especially when I thought he was the one who wanted to make up to me. Some brother...

After a minute or so of arguing, Kinzy must have finally given in, because she scooted back on the seat of the four-wheeler, giving Joe enough room to climb on in front of her and start the engine.

"That's it, Joe," Frank shouted mockingly, taking a step forward. "Just run away from me as far as you can, like you do with all of your problems. You won't be able to hide forever, you know! I'll always be here, and you're going to have to come back one day."

But Joe didn't pay him any attention. He focused on backing the four-wheeler out onto the dirt road, and took off without giving his brother a second glance.

Frank watched them go, feeling his anger grow to the boiling point. "I hate you, Joe Hardy!" he screamed after the disappearing ATV. "Do you hear me? I hate you! "

The ride back to the Phillips' house was a quiet, gloomy one. Kinzy sat behind Joe, continuing to silently cry. She didn't want to upset him further, didn't want to upset herself any more. Joe steered the four-wheeler deftly, his anger keeping him silent.

I can't believe how selfish he is, he thought to himself. Someone is trying to kill Kinzy, and all he cares about is making sure we spend a few hours together during this vacation so that he won't feel guilty or have to take any flak from Mom or Dad. I can't believe he's my brother. He's never turned anyone in trouble down before. I can't believe I'm even related to him.

He slightly shook his head. I don't understand what got into him. He knows I can't just stand by and do nothing when I know someone's getting hurt. Not after Iola. But he has to go and make things worse than they already are. Just like he always does.

Kinzy had her cheek resting against his back, and Joe could feel her tears soak through his T-shirt and roll down his back. He felt his heart go out to her.

Poor girl. Frank had no right to yell at her like he did. She didn't do anything to him. Now she blames herself for us arguing, when it's all Frank's fault. I'll have to talk to her later. Straiten this huge mess out. I don't want her to feel guilty about something that she had no part in.

Joe turned on the single headlamp of the four-wheeler as the sun began to dip low on the horizon. He was reminded of the night before and of his wild flight into the woods. That had been the result of another fight with his brother over Kinzy. That one had also been Frank's fault.

Frank was right, he thought bitterly to himself, thinking of the words his brother had shouted as he had pulled away. I do run away every time I come up against a problem. At least I have recently. But I just can't face them without loosing it or breaking down. I just can't.

Kinzy sniffed slightly and snuggled closer to Joe, her arm again held protectively against her chest. I have to take care of her, he told himself determinately. Apparently no one else will, so it's up to me. And I could care less if Frank never speaks to me again!

"Frank, do you--Oh, my God! What happened? You're hurt!"

Frank jumped, startled. He'd been so absorbed in the thought of his stupid brother and his equally stupid girlfriend that he'd forgotten about his father being there until he came out of his tent.

Seeing the blood on his son's face, Fenton rushed to Frank's side. "What happened?" he asked again, tilting Frank's head back to stop the bleeding in his nose. "Where's Joe?"

"We had a fight," Frank answered bitterly. "And then he left with Kinzy, surprise surprise. And she started all of it!"

"Don't move," Fenton instructed him, then rushed back into his tent to grab his handkerchief. He was back in just a few seconds.

"Here," he said, handing the cloth to Frank. "Hold it against your nose and keep your head back. Now, what exactly happened? What's this about Kinzy starting everything?"

Frank sighed and closed his eyes, keeping his head slightly tilted backwards as his father had instructed and holding the handkerchief against his nose, wincing as he realized how sore it was. "Joe and Kinzy from their merry little trip just a few minutes ago," he said sarcastically. "Joe said he wanted to talk to me for a minute. I had a bad feeling, but I said sure. Then he started telling me how Kinzy had fallen off the cliff they were climbing this morning. Apparently, someone tried to kill her by cutting her rope, and he's worried about someone trying to kill her again tomorrow. So he asked if she could come with us tomorrow. I told him no, of course. We started arguing, and I hit him. It's as plain as that. Then Kinzy tried to butt in, and things got worse."

Fenton sighed sadly and shook his head. "I'm sorry I didn't stop it," he said softly. Then he gave his son a sheepish grin. "I was in my tent listening to Joe's Brittany Spears CD."

Frank began to chuckle. He couldn't help it. Something about his forty-something father listening to the teenaged Brittany Spears struck him as funny.

"It's okay, Dad," he assured him. "It's our fault. We both should have kept our tempers in check. But I'm never going to forgive him. Well, at least not for a long time. He betrayed me, and I'm not going to go easy on him just because of that. I could care less if his girlfriend did die! I'm sorry it happened, but it's been a month, for God's sake. He needs to get over it." He looked down long enough to find a seat then leaned his head back once more. "At least I don't think Joe's punch broke it."

"What about Joe?" his father asked as he sat down next to him. "Was he hurt? Did you even notice?"

"Wasn't hurt at all. I split his lip, that's all. He's the one who hit me twice. He's fine." Frank couldn't keep the sarcastic tone out of his voice. "Besides, I'm sure Kinzy will make him feel all better."

Fenton just sat there, listening to Frank carry on. He would wait for his son to finish his little speech before speaking what was on his mind.

"I can't believe the way he's acting," Frank continued, pressing the handkerchief tighter against his nose. "I mean, he acts so torn up about Iola's death, but he's already gone out and got himself a girlfriend only a month after she dies. Must be great therapy!"

Fenton sighed. "Well, you haven't exactly been the best cure for him yourself, you know," he said pointedly. "Been spending plenty of time with Nancy, though."

Frank just sat there, his mouth open in shock. How could my own father say that? He's supposed to be on my side, not Joe's!

"I know it may seem unfair to you to hear this, but it is the truth." Fenton placed a hand on his son's shoulder, his dark eyes glittering with concern. "I'm sorry, Frank. I know how much you like Nancy. I like her too, but we wanted this vacation to be strictly family, remember?"

Frank finally found his voice. "Yeah, but--"

"But nothing! You started ignoring Joe almost as soon as you saw Nancy. Don't deny it, Frank. During that rafting trip yesterday, Joe and Kinzy were making plans to go together today. But you didn't hear a word they said, because you were too busy talking to Nancy to notice!"

If he could have, Frank would have hung his head in shame. He felt like he was a little boy again being scolded by his father.

"I know Joe's being difficult, but you have no idea what he's going through, Frank. Heck, even I don't. He may be trying to make you mad on purpose, just to prove that you actually care about him. Then again, he may want to stay away from you for awhile and a fight seemed like the best way to accomplish that. I don't know. I can't read his mind, unfortunately. But you've got to give him more room than you did before the accident, Frank. If you don't, you're going to push him away for good."

With that, Fenton gave his son's shoulder a final squeeze then got to his feet and disappeared back into his tent.

Frank just continued to sit there, holding the now bloody handkerchief to his nose, contemplating his father's words. He knew that he should have given his younger brother a bit more leeway. Nancy had said the exact same thing yesterday when he had run to her for comfort. But didn't they all realize that seeing Joe like this was as hard on him as it was on them? He just handled it a different way then they did.

And I just can't forgive him in a snap, he told himself. I'm sorry, Dad. But I just can't forgive him. Not yet.

The house was dark and silent when the two teens returned. A red-eyed Kinzy assured Joe that this was okay, that her mother had already left for work and wouldn't be back until late the next morning. When Joe asked where she worked, the girl simply shrugged and replied, "Somewhere in the government." Joe knew that he would be satisfied with that answer for now. Kinzy wasn't going to elaborate any further.

"Seems colder with no one here," Joe observed as they stepped through the back door. "Almost... empty. Like no one lives here."

Kinzy graced him with a smile as she flicked on the light switch. "That's an old house for you. Though this one's never felt that way to me. It's so soaked with personality that I sometimes feel like everyone's here again. Mom, Dad, me, Steve...Even Brixton. That's why I love this house so much." She ran her hand lovingly down the door frame. "I don't think I could ever move out."

Joe nodded as they moved into the kitchen. "I know exactly what you mean. The girl that died-- Her family lives in this huge farm house back home. Whenever I go visit her brother--who's my best friend--I can almost feel her presence there, leaking from the house. It's-it's very comforting."

Kinzy turned on the light in this room as well. "I remember that, for about a month after Steve died, I had to sleep in his room. If I didn't, I would stay up all night, crying. Just being surrounded by his things, sleeping in his bed...It made me feel like he was there, too. It made me feel tons better."

She shook her head as she moved into the dinning room. Joe noticed that the boxes that had been stacked up on the table earlier were gone.

"Enough of this gloomy stuff. We need to do something happy. Do you like video games? I have a Playstation hooked up in my room, and there's pool and fuseball tables set up in the rec room. There's some video games in there, too." She grinned. "My dad and Steve would go in there for hours and hours without coming out. You could here them yelling from all over the house. Of course, being the tomboy that I was, I would go in there too, so I could hang out with the guys. I was hooked almost instantly on pool. Have been ever since."

Joe returned her grin. "Man, that would be the life. I could never do that at my house, though. My parents are the world's worst pack rats, no kidding. There's junk lying all over the house. We could never fit in a pool table. Or anything else, for that matter. Besides, Frank would probably hog the thing. I'd never get a chance to play it."

She lifted a curious eyebrow. "Are you any good at pool?"

Joe shrugged. "I'm okay, I guess. I love to play. But I've never really played anyone who's really good." Except for once, and that game was for my brother's life!

That wicked smile came across Kinzy's face, and Joe knew that everything was going to be okay. "Well, then. Here's your chance." She turned and began to walk down a hallway opposite of the one that she had led him down earlier that day. Then she veered off into another room and turned on the lights.

Joe's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped as he got his first sight of the room.

Video machines like the ones Joe played at the arcade in the Bayport Mall lined the walls. A pool table and a fuseball table sat in the center of the room. A rack against the wall held the pool sticks.

"Wow," he was finally able to say, stepping into the room to get a better look. "This is...neat! What a great set-up."

"Isn't it?" Kinzy came up to stand next to him, grinning. "I spent most of my time in this room when I was actually home. I remember the Pool Wars we had last year. It was me and Brixton against Steve and Lana, his Hawaiian girlfriend. Mom was the referee. It was all we did for days."

Joe couldn't help but smile. "Who won?"

Kinzy's grin got wider. "Me and Brixton, of course. They couldn't let go of each other long enough to play." She winked. "Besides, when it comes to pool, I rule!"

"You do, do you?"

"You bet." She lifted an eyebrow yet again. "Wanna find out the hard way?"

Her infectious grin spread across his own face. "Bring it on."

"You've got yourself a deal." Kinzy walked over to the rack, pulled out a stick, and tossed it to him. "Here. Get chalked up." She tossed him another stick. "You can do mine too, while you're at it. I'll get the table set up." Her devil grin flashed at him. "I hope you're good. If not, I'll flat out slaughter you."

"We'll see," Joe promised her. "We'll see..."

Frank's nose had finally stopped bleeding, and he was now gently prodding it, testing it to see if it was broken. Much to his relief, it seemed to be only bruised. At least Joe couldn't have the satisfaction of hurting him badly.

Fenton glanced out at the setting sun and sighed. "I guess I'd better get used to this," he cracked, smiling faintly.

"If you're talking about Joe, I wouldn't worry too much," Frank said, wincing as he found a particularly sore spot. "He's probably going to stay with Kinzy. He runs away and is too scared to come back and face me."

Mr. Hardy said nothing, simply continuing to stare out at the last rays of sunlight. He felt very sad, feeling his heart sink along with the sun. My family is falling apart, and I can't stop it.

"I remember when you two were little," he said, a slow smile curving his lips. "Maybe four and five. We tried to keep you in different rooms, but every night Joe would wake up, crying. When we asked him what was wrong, he said that there were monsters in his room that disappeared when the grown-ups came, and that you were the only one who could protect him. So we put you two in the same room."

Frank remained silent. He had heard this story many a time from both of his parents.

"When you got so sick that time, we tried everything we could to convince Joe to move back into his own room until you got better. That you needed some peace and quiet. But he refused to leave your side, even to sleep. I'll always believe that it was his will for you to live that kept you alive."

Frank couldn't remember much from that period in his life. His mind was hazy fro all the drugs he had been given plus from the sickness itself. But there was one thing, something his brother had said, that had been haunting him ever since.

"Come on, Frank," said the tearful voice of ten-year-old Joe. "Don't leave me. I can't live without my big brother."

That statement, that tone of voice spoken by his little brother had urged eleven-year-old Frank to fight the disease raving his small body. In the end, he had won the fight.

I know what he's doing, Frank thought, closing his eyes. He's trying to lay a guilt trip on me, reminding me of how close Joe and I were in the past. Think's it'll make me go soft and forgive him. Well, he's wrong.

"Dad, I'm not going to just walk up and say I'm sorry. I'm not sorry. I'm mad at him and have every right to be! he accuses me of not spending any time with him, but when I do want to spend some time with him, he decides to bring his girlfriend along! That's not fair and you know it."

"Frank--"

"Quit defending him, Dad!" The older Hardy boy sat up strait, glaring at his father. "That's what he wants us to do. Feel sorry for him so that he can get away with whatever he wants. I'm not going to give him what he wants. He expects me to feel so sorry for him and make up excuses for him that I'll forgive him. Well, I'm not. I'm not going to forgive him until I'm ready to forgive him. And, right now, I don't see that happening any time in the near future."

"Fine." Mr. Hardy shrugged. He was tired of trying to reason with his son. "It's your life that's going to be ruined. When Joe is no longer part of your life you're going to regret not forgiving him."

With that, Fenton stood and disappeared back into his tent, leaving behind an angry Frank, who suddenly began to feel his anger felt away into loneliness.

"Ha! I won the toss. I get to break."

Joe smiled smugly as he hefted his stick in his hand. This time, he was going to show this hotshot girl why men were considered superior!

Kinzy gave him her devilish smile and gestured towards the cue ball, which was sitting on the table, looking innocent. "Be my guest."

"Gladly." Joe walked around to the end of the table, brought his stick up in both hands, and leaned forward over the edge of the table, placing the tip of his stick only inches from the cue ball.

I've got to make this good, he thought, leaning slightly farther down to line th cue ball up the ball at the head of the triangle that sat on the other end of the table. I can screw up any shot but this one.

Satisfied that he was lined up as good as he could manage, Joe drew his stick back, then pushed it forward to send the cue ball rolling at an incredible speed across the table. With a loud crack, the triangle of balls scattered, rolling in all directions. But none of them went into the pockets.

"Good shot," Kinzy told him, sounding impressed. "Most of the time people scratch when they break, unbelievable as that may sound. It's nice, getting to play someone who knows what they're doing."

Joe felt a smile of satisfaction cross his lips. Well, at least I managed to keep from making a complete fool out of myself.

"Thanks," he said simply. "Your shot."

She gave him a sly smile. "You're good, Hardy. I'll give you that. But I'm going to have to show you how it's done." With that, she walked over to the other side of the table, where the white cue ball was lying among the scattered, colored ones. She leaned over and, after just a second or two of lining up, she hit the ball with her stick. It went crashing into the number two ball, sending it into the upper left pocket.

She grinned at Joe as she went back around the table. "I've got solids!"

Joe returned the grin. He knew, without a doubt, that this was going to be a very interesting night. "And I've got stripes. Let's get it on already."

Kinzy's reply was the sound of one ball cracking into another. Joe watched as a solid colored ball rolled across the table, bounce off the side, and gently hit another, causing it to stop.

Kinzy made a face. "Rats!"

"My turn!" Joe said cheerfully, and he fairly skipped to the left side of the table. A striped ball lay just outside the right side pocket, and he knew he could sink it without a problem. So he lined it up so that the cue ball would only clip it on the left side, then sent it rolling. The striped ball went into the hole without so much as a protest, the cue ball-much to Joe's relief-not following.

He gave Kinzy a sweet smile. "One for me!"

The white-haired girl laughed. "And he's not afraid to brag about it, either. Now I know he's a true pool player."

"Like I ever gave you any reason to doubt me." Joe moved again. The only shot he could find was somewhat blocked by a solid colored ball, and he was trying to think of a way to hit his in without knocking hers in as well. "I always beat Frank, and I'm pretty evenly matched with most of the guys back at home. We play all the time."

"Must be nice," she said softly, looking sadly at a picture on the wall across the room from where she stood.

Joe felt like kicking himself as he tried to line up his next shot. Way to go, Hardy. It must have been near impossible for her to find someone to play pool with after all the people she played with died, and here you go, blabbering about how cool you are because you play all the time! Real smooth.

"I guess so," he answered, hitting the cue ball, sending his own into the pocket without even touching hers. "Though I wish there was someone back home that would be a challenge to me. Like you are."

Her grin returned, and Joe felt his spirits lift. "Little boy, I'm more than a challenge for you."

He returned the grin. "We'll see about that, little girl." And with that, he went to line up his next shot.

Frank wanted to go and see Nancy. She was the only one he had left to turn to, the only one he felt he could talk to. Nancy was understanding, caring. She might be upset with Frank, she had every right to be. But she wouldn't yell at him.

But when he told his father of his plans, Fenton forbade him to use the van. He wanted his son to stay away from Nancy at least for a little while. He knew that, no matter what Frank said, Nancy was just as much the problem as Kinzy was. He hoped that this would keep him here.

But he hadn't counted on Frank taking off at a jog in the direction of Nancy's campsite.

It won't be too bad, Frank told himself as he ran along the dusty, deserted road. At least it's not too hot, what with the sun almost all the way down. I only hope I'll be able to find my way back in the dark. If only Dad hadn't be so stubborn and let me take the van.

Frank felt himself began to grow angry as he thought about his father's actions. I can't believe this! First Joe, now Dad. At least I know Nancy won't let me down.

It didn't take him long to reach the campsite. The Drews already had a fire built, and both Nancy and Bess were sitting around it. Frank had never seen a more welcome sight in all his life.

"Nancy! Bess!" he called as he jogged over to them, waving.

"Frank?" Nancy said, standing up. She frowned, puzzled. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you drive?"

Frank shrugged as he stepped into the firelight. "Dad wouldn't let me ta--"

Suddenly, Nancy gasped in horror and grabbed Frank by the arm, cutting him off in mid sentence. "You're hurt!" she cried, searching his face with concern-filled eyes.

At first Frank had no idea what she was talking about. Then he remembered his bloody and bruised nose, plus the stream of dried blood coming from the corner of his mouth that he had forgotten to clean off.

"I'm fine," he assured her with a smile. "Joe and I got into a fight, and he got in a few lucky punches. I've already taken care of everything. I just didn't get a chance to wipe the blood off."

"You and Joe got into a fight?" Bess said, her eyes wide. "Over what? You two never fight!"

"Kinzy," he replied simply. Bess got the hint and went pack to poking at the embers with a stick.

Nancy took Frank by the arm and lead him over to a log that was out of Bess's earshot. She sat him down and looked him strait in the eye.

"Bess was right when she said you guys never fight. Especially like this." She pointed to Frank's nose. "What happened? You said it was because of Kinzy?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah. Someone apparently tried to kill her this morning when they went climbing by cutting her rope. She fell, but managed to grab a rock or something. Just banged her arm up. Anyway, Joe comes by with Kinzy, asks if she can come with us tomorrow."

"But I thought tomorrow was just going to be the three of you?"

"That's what I thought, too. But Joe said that he wanted to keep an eye on her. Of course I told him no. Then he started accusing me of all sorts of things, and I-- Well, I lost it. I hit him." He shrugged.

"Where's Joe?" Nancy asked softly. "Is he okay?"

Frank snorted. "He went back with Kinzy, so I'm sure he's fine. She's probably treating him like a spoiled prince." He practically spat the last part out.

Nancy sighed and closed her eyes. I thought Frank was going to give Joe some time. It's only the third day of their vacation! This is as much my fault as it is Kinzy's. Maybe I'll go spend tomorrow with her.

"I'm sorry, Frank," she said opening her eyes.

He was silent. "And?" he asked when she said nothing else.

She shrugged. "Just--I'm sorry."

"What? That's all you've got to say?" Frank sneered. "No famous Nancy Drew philosophy for me today?"

"What do you want me to say?" Nancy demanded, getting to her feet and glaring down at Frank. "That I'm sorry because I don't have a brother who watched his girlfriend get killed? That I don't have a brother who's depressed because his girlfriend died in his car? That I don't have a brother who's feeling guilty because the bomb that killed his girlfriend was meant for him? I don't have all the answers, Frank. I don't know what Joe's going through. I don't know what you're going through. So I can't tell you what to do."

"How about a little support?" Frank yelled back, also getting to his feet. "How about, 'I'm sorry your brother's deserted you?' You're supposed to be my friend, Nancy!" You're supposed to give me some encouragement. Some support. Some hope. Not this psycho-babble you're spouting. Not a simple 'I'm sorry.' "

"What's to support?" she snapped back. "You and your brother fighting? I can't. Because then you'll loose Joe forever."

"Oh, yeah. Just stay neutral. That way, when the war breaks out, you won't be blamed. Typical you. You're just selfish, Nancy!"

"That's your problem, Frank. You're always thinking about yourself. No matter how you say it, it all comes down to you. You're so selfish, it makes me sick."

Joe's earlier words were like a slap in the face to Frank as he thought about what he'd just said.

For a moment, Nancy simply stared at him. Then, in a voice just loud enough for Frank to hear, she said, "You know what, Frank Hardy? You're getting good at driving away the people who care about you the most."

With that, she turned and fled to her tent, Bess right behind her, leaving Frank all alone with his misery under the rising moon.

Joe and Kinzy stood next to each other, pools ticks in hand, staring down at the table. There was only one ball left--the black eight ball--and it was Joe's turn.

Joe turned to the white-haired girl and sighed. "Well, Kinzy. I must admit that this has been a great game. A real challenge. I'm almost sorry I have to beat you. But only almost."

Kinzy lifted an eyebrow. "You haven't beaten me yet, Hardy. If I were you, I'd hold off on the bragging until I had sunk that eight ball."

The younger Hardy flashed her his best grin as he moved around the table. "That can be taken care of without a problem. Just watch."

You'd better sink this, Hardy, he told himself as he leaned over to line the cue ball up with the eight ball. If you miss this after all that big talk you just spouted she'll never let you live it down.

After a few minutes, Joe was finally satisfied with his shot line up. He was acutely aware of Kinzy's presence the entire time, and hoped to God that she wasn't silently laughing at his efforts.

He shut his eyes, said a little prayer to every god that came to mind, then sent the cue ball flying across the table. Joe held his breath as the eight ball rolled, and rolled-- --and finally plunked down in the upper right pocket.

Joe let out a sigh of relief, then grinned as he stood up, hoping he didn't look too smug. "I won!" he crowed.

Kinzy keep herself from laughing at his triumphant look. "Way to go," she congratulated him, walking around the table to shake his hand. "That was a really good game. It's been a long time since I played someone as good as you. It's been a real treat."

Joe lifted an eyebrow and gestured to the pool table with his stick. "Do you want to play again?"

"Sure thing." Kinzy checked her watch. "Just let me go take one of my pain pills. I haven't had one since I left the hospital this morning, and my arm's killing me!" She looked back up at him. "Do you want anything while I'm in the kitchen?"

He shook his head. "Nah. You go on ahead. I'm going to stay here and check everything out. But thanks anyways."

"Suit yourself. I'll be right back, so just hang tight." With that, she handed him her pool stick and left the room.

As soon as she was gone, Joe walked over to the oak framed picture that hung on the wall. He had noticed her look at it when he had stupidly mentioned how he played all the time, but decided not to say anything as he also noticed the sad look she had given it. Now that she was gone, however, he could look at it without having to worry about upsetting her.

He was able to put a name with every face in the picture except for the Asian-looking girl. But, since she was standing next to Kinzy's brother, Joe assumed that this was Lana, Steve's girlfriend that Kinzy had mentioned earlier.

All four young people--Steve, Lana, Kinzy, Brixton--wore huge smiles on their faces and had a pool stick in hand. All of them were sitting on the pool table, with Valerie front and center in her wheelchair, also grinning wildly. She wore a whistle around her neck.

This must have been taken during Pool Wars, Joe thought as he continued to study the picture with interest. I don't see how Kinzy and her mom can keep pictures like this around the house. To be remind of how happy they once were. I can barely keep Io--

A scream pierced the silent house, shattering Joe's thoughts. Without even thinking about what he was doing, he dropped the two pool sticks and raced off in the direction of the kitchen. That had been where Kinzy was heading, and that had definitely been Kinzy who had screamed.

"Hang on, Kinzy!" he shouted as he dashed through the living room, dodging furniture like he was at football practice. I have to help her!

He ran through the dinning room, then screeched to a halt at the entrance to the kitchen, shocked at the sight that greeted him.

A tall figure dressed completely in black from the boots to the ski mask he wore over his face had Kinzy pinned against the wall, her feet dangling a few feet off the floor, his large hands around her throat. She was scratching and kicking at him the best she could, but Joe could tell that the small girl had no way of stopping the man who was slowly choking the life from her body.

Promises Made