Page 161 of Family Affair

Chapter 37

“Hey, whassup, Ward.”

Speaking was a chore. He hurt from the tips of his toes to the roots of the hair on his head. The water trickled down his face and neck, and he swiped at it, willing it to go away.

“Get up.” Ward’s voice came out hoarse and kind of flat, without its usual resonance.

Frank focused his one working eye on his friend and mentor. The other eye had swollen shut and couldn’t be accessed on request.

“Ward’s angry. Why is Ward angry?”

“Can you get up?”

Strange, his voice. The abnormality of the sound penetrated the cottony pounding in his head, and he tried to comply with Ward’s order to get up. “Aw, fuck! Shit. My ribs! Oh, hell, it hurts!”

Bile rose, and he had to make a prompt choice between rolling over through the pain in his body to throw up and choking on his own puke. He rolled over, nearly screaming from stabbing pain in his ribs. Cade, the bastard, had likely broken him a couple. That was one serious beating. He only hoped he delivered as good as he got.

He had held a tight rein on his temper and refused getting physical, but tonight it was Cade who had thrown the first punch. And all bets had been off.

Theirs was a spectacular argument that ended in a spectacular fight.

“Feeling better, Cade?” Ward asked when he stopped vomiting.

“Not much, but thanks.” He squinted at Ward through the haze of pain in his head. He must have suffered a concussion. “Did you smoke some shitty dope? I’m Frank.”

Slowly, Ward lowered to his haunches next to him. The understated platinum watch on his wrist caught light. If his parishioners knew how much the damn thing cost, or where the money for it came from, they’d burn him at the stake.

“Something happened, son. Something very bad.”

“Oh, yeah? What happened?” he slurred, acting indifferent, which wasn’t a problem since at this point his entire attention was consumed by the pain in his bruised body. But inside his rattled head that felt like a cast iron cannon ball, the first alarm sounded, gaining volume.

“For now, I want you to pretend you’re Cade. Humor me. Respond to your brother’s name. Can you do that?”

What a dumb request. Why? And why was Ward talking to him like he was mentally challenged?

“Sure.” Analyzing and thinking logically was difficult at the moment, so he abandoned the effort for the time being.

“Can you get up? Can you go take a shower?”

“Dunno.”

Ward looked at him with pity, clearly thinking he fell off the wagon, and said, “I really, really need you to try, Cade. Please.”

There were tears in Ward’s eyes. Freaking tears. And the name felt awfully disturbing applied to him.

Out of nowhere, a burst of adrenaline flooded him, boosting his mental processes.

“What’s going on?” He pulled himself up, wincing. “Why are you acting this weird? Where’s Cade?”

“He’s gone.”

“Where’s he gone to?”

Ward rubbed a corner of his eye with the index finger to wipe the moisture collected there, but more tears appeared.

“He’s gone forever, Frankie. He has died tonight.”

Died? Nah, he couldn’t have done that. He was here just a short while ago. They went at each other with all they got. He hated Cade, actually, he wanted to kill him himself. For butchering the deal with Stevie Stark. For letting Frank get framed for the murder. For pointing out that it was all Frank’s fault anyway, throwing a fit over Father’s interview and forcing Cade to act. For never, ever taking Frank’s side.