Then he head-butted me. Hard. I’d seen this in training a dozen times. I lowered my head so that I took most of the blow on my forehead instead of my nose where he was aiming. It still dazed me.

I lifted my right leg, hoping to throw my knee into his groin. He twisted and blocked the kick, but that made him release my wrists. I stumbled back to the counter next to the refrigerator. I reached out blindly and found a jar of peanut butter on the counter. As Jackson charged me, I swung the jar wildly and caught him on the side of the head. Too bad modern peanut butter jars are plastic.

The blow still slowed him down, but not by much. The lid blew off and the jar cracked down the side, covering Jackson’s face and neck with peanut butter. He looked like a radiation victim whose face was melting. I swung hard with my left hand, hoping the peanut butter was blocking his vision. It wasn’t.

He blocked the punch and hit me with a counterpunch that sent me onto the cheap floor. I slid across it and slammed into the cabinets.

Now Natty was up, catching his breath. He threw himself at Jackson before Jackson could stomp on me. His body looked spindly next to the older, muscular man.

Jackson threw him like a rag doll against the wall, then dove onto the ground, aiming for his pistol.

I rolled over to stop him. We both reached for the pistol at the same time. All of my strength seemed to go into my hands as we fought for the gun.

It went off three times. Bang. Bang. Bang. Like a metronome keeping time for a deadly waltz. It was deafening. But I hoped it might bring some help. One of the neighbors had to have called the cops.

Somehow, I managed to wrestle the pistol away from him. I couldn’t believe it came free. He scooted away from me and sprang to his feet. He was the fastest big man I’d ever met. He turned and sprinted out the door before I could even aim the gun.

I rushed to the door to give chase. I froze when I heard my brother moan in the kitchen. I turned and saw the spreading stain on his shirt.

One of the bullets had struck him.

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

It felt like an eternity between when I called 911 and the paramedics arrived at Natty’s apartment. At least they let me ride in the back of the ambulance as I held Natty’s hand and talked to him.

I said, “You’re going to be okay, Natty.” I didn’t know what else to say. Who does?