Tim had been on duty for just over three hours when he looked up from his desk and saw Dave approaching from across the street. He looked at his watch; it was eleven minutes after six. He stood up, stretched and walked around the desk to greet him at the door. He enjoyed his little chats with Dave every evening. Dave treated him as an equal, made him feel good about himself. That was something he'd never gotten much of at home. Dave insisted from the first that Tim call him Dave, not Mr. Gates. Even Mr. Paolini had become friendlier after Dave moved in with him, and had asked Tim to call him Joe. Tim felt a great affection for these two men.

The phone rang and he turned to pick it up just as he heard a car come to a screeching stop outside. He turned to look and saw Dave being forced at gun point into an old beat-up Olds 88. He dropped the phone, pulled his gun and ran out the door toward the car. The abductor threw a manila envelope towards him, as he ran around the car, jumped in and peeled away, leaving Tim coughing in the smoky exhaust fumes.

Tim was afraid to shoot for fear of hitting Dave. He holstered his weapon, pulled out his cell phone and called 911. He gave the police dispatcher a full description of the man, and then the make, description and year of the car including the license plate number. He also told the operator about the envelope laying in the driveway. Within two minutes there was an officer on the scene. Tim told him that Dave was Mr. Paolini's partner. The policeman immediately realized this would be a high profile case since it involved one of the most famous and well photographed architects in the country. He called his captain and informed him. Within ten minutes there were six police cruisers parked in and around the entrance to the Tower. The police captain assigned the case to Det. John Paolini and his partner, Det. Paul Hanson, who immediately ran to their car and rushed to the scene.

When the two detectives pulled up in their beat up old dark blue Ford Crown Victoria, the police officer in charge filled them in, pointing out Tim, who stood inside watching out the window. Johnny looked over at Tim and their eyes connected. Paul watched Johnny quickly avert his eyes and then look back. Paul thought to himself that this young man might be the one to 'catch' Johnny. As he listened to the report, he covertly watched his partner glance at Tim repeatedly.

Paul Hanson had grown up being best buds with Joe Paolini. Johnny, Joe's younger brother, had always hero worshipped Paul. When Paul became a policeman...Johnny followed in his footsteps. Paul made an issue of getting Johnny as his partner when he became a detective three years after he did. Paul had long suspected that Johnny had a secret that haunted his every move. Having been around him since they were kids, he'd noticed how Johnny would always check out a good looking guy. For a long time Paul assumed he was just checking out the competition, but then he realized that even though Johnny always had a pretty woman on his arm and would check out a pretty woman like all men do, he presumptively dismissed them.

As the police officer filled them in on the details, Paul watched Johnny continually distractedly glance back at the young guard. Paul realized that Johnny wasn't listening, so he poked him with his elbow to get his attention. Looking shell-shocked, Johnny glanced at him, then looked panicky when Paul suggested they go inside and see if they could get any more details from the guard. As Paul watched him, he could see the internal emotional turmoil that his buddy was fighting. Johnny nodded, but looked like he'd much rather be elsewhere.

Tim was thrilled to be the center of attention with these handsome men in uniform. He'd wanted to be a policeman since he was a little kid, and was now majoring in crime prevention at the university with the intent of becoming one. He stood at the window watching, but the moment that the two detectives in plain clothes arrived, and Tim looked into Det. Johnny Paolini's eyes; he forgot all about the other men in uniform. It thrilled him that the handsome dark blonde detective kept glancing at him. When they entered the building he shook Det. Hanson's hand and then took Johnny's and forgot about letting go. It was fortunate that he'd already given all the pertinent information before that, because his mind turned to jelly, his knees grew weak and his uniform got a little tight below the waist.

Johnny stared intently at the young guard as he introduced himself. He watched the manly shake he gave Paul's hand then extended his own. When his hand touched the young guard's his mind blanked for a moment. When he realized that neither he nor Tim had let go, he panicked and pulled away. Paul smiled to himself noting Tim's effect on his partner.

It was a warm evening so Joe put the top down before he headed home from the downtown construction site in his little red Ferrari. As he approached the university he noticed a news helicopter circling the Tower and wondered why. As he arrived at the Tower he saw several police cruisers parked in and around the portico in front of the building. Joe hurriedly parked in the garage and ran into the lobby. He saw his brother and Paul standing just inside the front door talking to Tim. He rushed over to them. When Tim saw him he started apologizing. "I saw it happening, but couldn't get out there in time. I'm so sorry, Joe, I just wasn't fast enough."

"What are you talking about?" Joe asked. Before Tim could reply, Paul squeezed Tim's arm to quiet him.

Joe noticed and turned to his brother. "What happened, Johnny?"

"Dave was abducted, Joe. They left a ransom note. The guys from evidence have it." He pointed at an officer holding a manila envelope. Joe took a deep breath and pushed down the knot that suddenly welled in his throat before he walked out to talk to the officer. Johnny shook off the thrall that had cloaked his mind and pulled himself together. Ignoring the effect that the introduction to Tim had on him, he turned and followed his brother outside.

"I'm Joe Paolini, Dave Gates is my partner. May I see the note, please?"

The officer looked from Joe to Det. Paolini who nodded consent. He handed the envelope to Joe. Joe's hands were rock steady as he took it, but Johnny knew that it was just a matter of time before he started coming apart. Joe extracted the crudely printed note and read it.

The note fluttered to the ground as Joe's hand fell to his side. "It was supposed to be me. Stupid jerk got the wrong man," he muttered, his eyes unfocused. Johnny could see that his brother was on the verge of collapsing and grabbed Joe around his waist just as his legs started to give way. Johnny looked around and located his partner. "Paul, I'm taking Joe upstairs." Joe's whole body was quivering, he'd all but collapsed as his younger brother held him up. Paul rushed to Dave's side and with an arm around his childhood buddy, he accompanied them into the private elevator. The officer that had handed Joe the note picked it up and put it back in the envelope as he shook his head. "Nothing good's going to come of this," he mumbled to his partner. "Few kidnappers leave their victim alive."

As the elevator door closed, Joe began to shake. Johnny hugged him to his chest. "It's going to be okay, Bro. We'll find him."

Paul rubbed his hand up and down Joe's back. They'd been best of friends since their grade school years. "Tim gave a complete description of the man, the car and the license plate. An APB was put out before he could have been a mile from here. We'll find him."

Tim watched the three men in the private elevator on the TV screen on his desk. He'd failed his job as far as he was concerned. Tears of remorse ran unhindered down his face. He prayed that the information he'd given the police would be enough for them to quickly find and save the man who had become his good friend. The elevator doors opened and the three men walked out of his view.

"What if they kill him? She hates him enough to have him killed, Johnny. I heard her threaten to get him one way or another. God, she's mean enough to have him tortured first. Paul, they've got to find him before that happens."

"Who are you talking about, Joe? Who is this 'she'?" Johnny asked

"Her name is Edith Way. She's Dave's deceased partner's mother. She hates Dave. She accused him of making her son queer. I heard her say she was going to get him." Joe led them into the kitchen where they sat around the little breakfast table. He went on to tell them about the Sunday morning she'd accosted Dave when they had returned from their run.

"I know who she is, Johnny," Paul said. "I gave her chauffeur a speeding ticket when I was still on patrol. Man is she a battle axe."

"Call that in for investigation, Paul. There could be something to it."

"Could you guys check out the chauffeur, too?" Joe asked. "He's a real slime ball."

"Sure. Do you know his name?" Johnny asked.

Joe shook his head. "Only that Mrs. Way addressed him as Jeffery."

"Jeffery Joiner." Paul injected. "I'll never forget that hokey name. He's the one I gave the ticket to."

Joe stood up hugging himself and briskly rubbing his upper arms. He had gotten past the shock. His color had returned. He felt he had to do something to busy himself. "I need a drink. Can I get you fellows something."

"We're on duty. How about some coffee." Johnny said.

"Of course, it won't take but a couple of minutes to make. I guess I'll have coffee, too. It could be an all night wait."

The two detectives followed Dave into the kitchen. He occupied himself with measuring the water and the coffee and putting it into the maker. He stood watching the machine. There was nothing to see, but he could hear the machine burp as it heated the gurgling water. He glanced at the clock above the stove. It was just after seven. It wouldn't be dark for another hour and a half. He pictured Dave tied up, gagged and blindfolded, and stuffed into a car trunk. He shuddered and forced his mind away from the image. He had to do something to keep himself busy. "You guys hungry? It is dinner time," he asked, as he set three mugs on the counter and then set the cream and sugar on the table.

"What have you to offer?" Johnny asked. He wasn't particularly hungry himself, but he figured it would be a good way to keep his brother occupied and his thoughts on something besides Dave's predicament.

"Dave made a big pot of paprikash last night." He looked into the covered dish. "There's enough for at least two helpings each."

"Chicken or veal?" Paul asked. "I love Chicken Paprikash. There's a great Hungarian restaurant over on Jefferson Blvd. You gotta try it some time." Suddenly he felt like he was babbling and shut up.

Joe grinned. He had gone through high school with Paul as his best buddy. Paul had been a defensive line backer in highschool and college while Joe had been the Quarterback those same years. Paul had been known for his appetite after a football game, especially if they won. He could put away a whole large pizza by himself back in those days. Paul was a big guy, muscular with very little body fat; he'd kept himself in shape. Even at thirty-eight, he still had a flat belly.

"You're in luck, Paul. It's chicken."

Johnny watched the two men at the stove. They had always included him in nearly everything they did as kids even though he was two years younger than Joe. He reminisced about sitting on the bench watching the two of them playing football. It wasn't until the two had graduated that he gotten his chance to play first line. He'd taken over Joe's position as the team's quarterback.

Paul stuck his head nearly into the pot that Joe had heating on the stove, sniffing in the aroma of the Paprikash. Johnny moved to the kitchen counter, propped his butt against it and crossed his ankles. He was getting a kick out of watching Paul. "Joe, do him like mom used to do him," he urged.

Paul immediately covered the back of his head with both hands to protect it from a wooden spoon. Angie had bopped him a few times for doing just what he was now doing. "Ah, Johnny, you take all the fun out of it. I was only enjoying the smell," he whined.

"I wouldn't hit you, Paul. I like to smell it like that, too," Joe said as he stuck a dish of buttered egg noodles in the microwave to heat. He got out two bowls and spoons and set them on the table and then watched the bowl of noodles turning in the microwave. He thought about Dave shuddering at the thought of nuking the noodles instead of heating them in boiling water, but this was faster and the two waiting men wouldn't know the difference anyway.

"Aren't you going to join us?" Johnny asked, eying the steaming food. The smell had gotten to him, and suddenly he was hungry, too.

"I couldn't eat right now, not knowing where Dave is." The timer dinged. Joe took the bowl of noodles to the table and then the pot of Paprikash. "You guys eat all you want. Don't let it go to waste."

"You sound like Mom, Joe," Johnny laughed, trying for some humor.

Joe shrugged. He filled the three mugs with coffee, pulled out a chair and sat down with a big sigh. He stared into his steaming cup, and got lost wondering what he'd do without Dave. How quickly Dave had become the center of his life, his very reason for living. He came out of his thrall realizing that Paul was talking. "What I can't figure out is why such a large amount of money. I mean Dave is only a bookstore owner. Where would he come up with two million dollars?"

"Dave could use two million to light a cigar and not miss it." Joe mumbled without looking up.

Johnny laid his fork down. "I don't understand, Joe. What are you saying?"

Joe looked up at him. "Simply that Dave has lots of money. You know, Edith Way is the only person other than myself that knows about the money that he inherited from Bill. Oh, and that chauffeur overheard the discussion Dave had with her when she threatened him. So he would know, too."

"Okay. So how are we going to get the ransom money?" Paul asked, "if they don't find him right away?"

"I can get it. No sweat." Joe muttered.

"How?" his brother demanded. "How can you get that much, that fast?"

"Simply withdraw it. However, it may take the bank awhile to come up with that much cash."

Both men gawked at him. He didn't notice it as he stared back into the dark depths of his coffee. "God, I hope it doesn't come to that. Why couldn't they have gotten the right man? Why my Dave? We've just started our lives together." Joe laid his head on the table and covered it with his arms. "I'd give anything to change places with him."

"And he'd be sitting here feeling the same thing that you are going through. Is one worse than the other, Joe?" Paul asked.

"Hey, I've got a feeling you're going to see Dave home and safe tonight, Joe," Johnny said, patting Joe's back. "Just hang in there."

Paul was filling his bowl a second time when his phone buzzed. Joe and Johnny watched intently as he set his bowl down and put the phone to his ear.

"Hansen here."

Pause

"Where?"

Pause.

"We'll be right there." He pocketed the phone. "Come on, Paul, they've located the car at a rundown motel on the east side of town."

"I'm going with you, Johnny." Joe said, pushing his chair back as he stood.

Johnny turned and looked at the desperation on Joe's face. "Yeah, sure, Bro. Come on." He put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

Paul looked longingly at the bowl he had just filled with the delicious Paprikash. Joe grinned at his old chum. "Bring it with you." Paul grinned with relief, got up with the bowl in his hand and followed the two brothers into the elevator.

Dave studied his captor who sat on the edge of the bed across the room with a pistol dangling between his legs. His stringy, long, dirty blonde hair needed washing. His ice blue eyes looked feral and unsure. His long thin nose was crooked from having been broken and not properly set, his thin lower lip had a scar near the right corner. His long lanky body looked like he hadn't yet fully matured. Dave wondered whether he was in his late teens or early twenties.

Dave wiggled to find a little comfort on the straight chair to which he was cuffed. His arms, cuffed around and behind the chair back, were beginning to ache. Each ankle was cuffed to a chair leg below the rung. He'd already figured given the chance, he could get loose from the chair. Since he wasn't blindfolded and gagged, he worried that the plan was to kill him. Even though they'd been in the room for less than an hour, the silence was beginning to get to him. "You're new at this, aren't you?" he asked.

The kid startled and looked at him. "Yeah, how'd ya know."

"Well, let's just say that the abduction didn't go as cool as the ones on TV."

"We all know the ones on TV aren't real. Shit, it's a lot of hassle doin' this," he whined. "I thought it went pretty easy. You didn't offer any resistance."

"I didn't want to get shot," Dave said. "What's your name kid?"

"I'm not a kid and you don't need to know my name."

"I didn't mean to offend you. So can I call you Bob?"

"Yeah, yeah, Bob'll do."

"So who's supposed to come up with the money for my ransom, Bob?"

"Some rich dude named David Gates." Dave's heart jumped. 'Oh my God,' he thought, 'it was supposed to be Joe sitting here.'

The kidnapper looked him over. "You don't look like someone special. Why would he pay for you, anyway?"

After a few moments of stunned silence, Dave remembered to answer the question. "Well, probably because he's my best friend."

'Bob' made a wry grimace and studied the pistol he still gripped with both hands between his knees.

Dave wondered what the man's reaction would be if, and when, he discovered that he had abducted the wrong person. He thanked God that the kid had screwed up and gotten him instead of Joe. He also was thankful that he'd had Joe sign those bank signature cards. Maybe there would be a chance they might let him go if they got the money.

"Must be nice to have a best friend that would pay that kind of money for you," the kid muttered, not looking up.

Several minutes passed in silence. Then Dave asked, "Bob, how much do you get out of this. I mean you're not the brains behind this kidnaping. What's the man paying you."

"I'm beginnin' to think it's not enough," Bob muttered.

"So how much is it? Five hundred thousand? Half a million?"

"Shit!" the kid stood up and paced. "You kiddin me? That tight wad son-a-ma-bitch is only giving me five thousand."

"How much was the ransom note for?"

"Two million," he blurted without hesitation and then looked sorry he'd said it.

"You're taking all the risks and he's only paying you that piddling amount?"

"You're askin' too many questions, Mister. I'm beginnin' to get pissed off."

"Don't get mad at me. I'd give you a lot more if it were me getting two million dollars while you do all the dirty work."

"Hey. Jus' fuckin' shut up an' let me think."

Dave shut up and watched. Bob slumped on the side of the bed with a dark frown on his face, his eyes darting back and forth as he thought. After a few minutes Dave broke the silence again.

"Bob, would you tell me if I guessed who got you into the mess?"

"You think you know?" Bob scowled.

"Well, I'm positive it's my mother in-law that's behind the whole thing. And I'll bet you the man that contacted you was about five foot ten, a little taller than you with thin brown hair. He has a belly that sticks out in front of his skinny body, like he's wearing a volley ball under his shirt. He also has a thin little mustache."

Bob didn't respond yes or no to Dave's description, but his furtive glances told him that he had guessed correctly. He waited a few minutes to see what his captor would do. Bob just sat there and fidgeted.

"I'll be honest with you, Bob. I don't think you have a chance in this caper. I'm quite sure the guard got a good look at you and I think he also got your license plate number. If that's true then the police know exactly who they are looking for, and are searching for you even now." He paused to let him think about the implications. "I'll make a deal with you. You let me go and I'll give you five times what Jeffery was offering you. That's twenty-five thousand dollars."

It took a few minutes of deep thought for Bob to make a decision.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"Well, you know how to find me. Do you know how to find Jeffery, other than by a phone number? If he picks up the money and leaves you holding the bag, how do you get your money from him?"

"Shit, I never thought about that. I bet the weasel will make off with all of it."

"I'll make you another offer. I know one of the detectives on the police force, his name is Det. Paul Hansen. If you'll turn yourself in to him and agree to testify against Jeffery, I'll not press charges against you." Dave knew he wasn't being completely honest with the man. Kidnapping is a federal offense. It was completely out of Dave's hands as to whether or not he got charged.

"Le'me think about it. There's no phone in this cheap room. I'm going to go make a call on a pay phone. You sit there and behave yourself while I'm gone."

Dave nodded his consent. Bob peeked through the curtained window. The coast looked clear. He stepped out pulling the door closed. Dave quickly tilted his chair back and freed the metal cuff from the right chair leg. And then did the same with the other one. His legs were free.

Before Bob could remove his hand from the doorknob a policeman with his pistol leveled at him with both hands, stepped onto the walk from the side of the building and yelled, "Drop the gun. Hands in the air."

Bob raised his hand holding the gun while turning the doorknob with the one still on the knob. He fell backwards against the door and rolled into the room. A bullet split the edge of the door frame. He kicked the door closed.

"Shit, how the hell did they find me?"

He lay there with his gun pointed at the door, expecting to see it burst open any second.

"The guard on the door was right there when you grabbed me. They knew who to look for, didn't they?" Dave said.

"Shut the fuck up. Who's asking you. Damn, what am I going to do now."

Before Dave could answer he heard a voice yell outside.

"Throw your gun out the door and come out with your hands up."

Bob got to his feet and started pacing.

"O God, I didn't expect this. Joiner said it would be really easy money. What am I going to do?"

"Take my offer and give yourself up."

"Shut the fuck up." he screamed again. "I wasn't talking to you."

"I thought you were, being I'm the only other person in the room. You don't have to be a total loser, ask for Det. Hansen. He'll help you."

"You don't understand English do you?" He swung the pistol striking Dave's cheek. Dave kicked backwards hoping his head didn't strike anything. He landed painfully on his arms .

"WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED. TOSS YOUR GUN OUT. COME OUT SLOWLY WITH YOUR HANDS OVER YOUR HEAD." The loudness of the megaphone caught Bob's full attention. He didn't notice Dave roll the chair on to its side and wiggle free of the chair. He rushed to the window and peeked out the side of the curtain. "Shit! There's at least six patrol cars out there."

Dave was on the other side of the bed. He had doubled his legs up against his chest. Struggling, he managed to slide the cuffs under his butt. It was even more difficult to get his feet through the loop that his cuffed wrists made of his arms. Once he got one foot through it was a little easier to get the other one freed. Bob wasn't paying any attention to him. Dave stood and looked at Bob who was still peeking out at the cops. Dave eyed the distance to the bathroom door, glanced at Bob and then lunged for it. He slammed the door closed and locked it. Bob ran to the door and pounded on it.

"Open this damned door before I put a bullet through it."

"You shoot that gun and the police will assume you've shot me and they will rush this place. They will kill you, Bob. You'll die." Dave yelled back at him. He felt it was a little melodramatic, but that seemed to be something that Bob understood. He didn't think the kid would use the gun but, he stood to the side of the door anyway.

Bob backed away from the bathroom door. He looked at it and then at the front of the room. He was so angry, confused and frustrated that he didn't know what to do. He aimed at the bathroom door and put a bullet through it, right next to the handle.

Paul pulled the old beat up old Crown Victoria into the parking lot and stopped next to the two cruisers that the police were using as a protective barrier. Johnny turned to Joe.

"Get out on the other side and keep your head down."

Paul slid out and scurried, bent over, up to the police that were kneeling with their guns pointed at a door across the lot. Johnny slid across the seat and followed Paul. Joe looked toward the door that they were all watching. He saw the curtain in the window next to it move slightly. He wished to heaven that he was a sharpshooter with a rifle. He'd take that stupid bastard out in a heart beat. Not knowing how Dave was faring in all this, ate at him something fierce. 'It should me in there, not my Dave.' The thought gnawed at the back of his mind.

He heard some yelling inside, and then a gunshot. Joe wanted to scream his agony. The bastard had shot his Dave.

Bob kicked the door and it flew open. He stepped into the room pointing the gun right and left. Dave was behind the door holding a toilet plunger like a bat. It was the only thing loose in the room.

As soon as Bob was beyond the door Dave pushed it closed with his foot and swung the toilet plunger at Bob's head, knocking him sideways into the shower stall. The gun discharged again. For a moment Dave thought he'd been shot and then realized it was a spray of hot water coming from the shower faucet. The bullet had shattered the valve. Bob was in the direct line of the steaming stream and screamed as he was scalded. In any decent motel the water wouldn't have been any hotter than 180 degrees. But apparently this place was so cheap there wasn't a thermostat on the water heater; the water was near boiling. Bob had lost the gun and was scrambling to get away from the hissing torrent. He kept losing his footing in the stall and falling back down. Dave grabbed his feet and dragged him out. Bob still screamed in pain from the burns.

Suddenly the door was thrust open and six guns were pointing into the little room. Dave raised his shackled hands and backed up.

The first cop in the room took note of what had happened, turned on the cold water faucet and aimed the shower head at the writhing man on the floor, cooling the wet clothing that was still scalding hot. Bob gasped with relief. Another cop had called for an ambulance. They couldn't cuff him because of the burns. Dave just backed against the wall and let them work on Bob. Now that it was over he felt like he could just slide down the wall and go to sleep. But then he thought of Joe and the anxiety he must be going through. He pushed through the police and got into the bedroom. He was immediately engulfed in Joe's arms. "Oh God, Babe, I thought I'd lost you," Joe said. "Thank God you're safe. No one was telling me anything." Dave couldn't hug him back, his hands were still cuffed. He just lay into Joe's body, absorbing his love and strength. "I love you, Joe." He closed his eyes and sighed. Both were oblivious to the men around them.

A policeman interrupted them. "Excuse me, Sir, but I have to take your statement." Seeing that Dave was still handcuffed, he pardoned himself and went to retrieve the keys from Bob's clothes. Dave's wrists were crusty with dried blood from where the cuffs had cut into him when he had done his Houdini act. The cut on his cheek was swollen, bruised and still oozing a bit of blood. The policeman gently removed the cuffs, and a medic smeared salve on his wrists. "Sir, you need to go to the hospital and have your face taken care of. It may need stitches."

Bob was being carried on a stretcher past them. His clothes had been cut off his body and he'd been covered with a wet sheet that had been soaked with a saline solution. He'd been given a big shot of morphine to ease his pain. It must have worked, because Dave thought he looked dead as he was carried past them.

Dave nodded without replying. The policeman asked him to please accompany him outside where he could talk and be heard. He took a straight chair with him and had Dave sit. Joe had his arm around him the whole time. Dave talked into the hand held recorder while two other policemen took notes. When the ordeal was over Johnny and Paul were standing by to take him to the hospital to have his face taken care of.

Paul and Johnny then took them back to the Eyrie when they left the hospital. Paul noted Tim's look of delight when he saw Johnny. He glanced at Johnny just in time to see him mask his own delight with one of nonchalance. Johnny merely grunted a greeting as he passed the young guard. Dave and Joe stopped and profusely thanked Tim for a job well done. Tim apologized again for not preventing the man from abducting Dave. Paul stepped up and set him straight by telling him that the man might have killed Dave if Tim had done something like shoot his tires and Dave and Joe concurred. That made Tim feel really good, but he'd have felt even better if Johnny hadn't stood across the room glowering at him.

Dave invited the detectives up for coffee. Paul walked over to the kitchen table and eyed the pot still containing a little of the Paprikash then picked it up and emptied it over the remaining cold the noodles and mixed them together. As he forked a bite into his mouth, he reminded himself to bring back the bowl and fork he'd carried down to the car when they'd left earlier.

"You want me to heat that, Paul?" Dave asked. Paul shook his head and finished it off while his three friends grinned as they watched him.

The four men sat around the table and sipped hot coffee and rehashed the events of the last few hours. "So Joiner has been arrested?" Dave asked?

"Yeah, while you were getting attended to at the hospital I called to check. The arresting officers said Mrs. Way sure gave them hell," Paul told them.

"What about that old bag, has she been implicated in this fiasco?" Joe asked.

"No, she apparently knew nothing about it. And Joiner said it was totally his own idea."

"I feel sorry for Bob," Dave said.

"Who's Bob?" Johnny asked.

"The guy who did the kidnapping. He wouldn't tell me his name so I just called him Bob."

"His name is Jack Feckel. He was burned pretty badly, but he'll recover."

"I had him almost convinced to give himself up. He was on his way out to call Joiner to verify what I'd told him when the cops arrived. Poor stupid kid."

Once Johnny and Paul left Joe started coming unglued. Dave had started cleaning up the kitchen. He'd just started to rinse off the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher when Joe walked up behind him, turned him around, wrapped him in his arms and burrowed his face into the side of his neck. "Don't ever do that to me again," Joe murmured.

"I promise to try not to," Dave said as he held his wet hands away from Joe's back while still trying to hug him back.

"Leave this for tomorrow. I need to hold you right now."

Dave grabbed a dish towel, dried his hands and allowed Joe to lead him by the hand into the bedroom. Joe proceeded to undress him and then quickly disrobed himself. Dave crawled onto the center of the bed with Joe right with him. He pulled Dave up against him, chest to chest, and wrapped his arms and legs around him. Joe held him like this for several minutes, while Dave caressed his back. Joe's ragged breath soon evened out and Dave realized that he had fallen asleep. Dave relaxed and he too was soon sleeping peacefully in his lover's arms.