Nobody’s Hero by j. leigh bailey Page A

for the fun of it. Sure, maybe he’d been hiding from the adults a bit, but after a couple of minutes of fun he’d forgotten all about his ulterior motives.
    Squatting next to the rose bush, Brad reached through the prickly stems and leaves to snag the ball. When he got to his feet, squealing brakes sounded from the street. A black SUV came to a sudden halt in front of the Ortegas’ house. The back door was thrust open and something—a body?—was shoved onto the curb.
    Shock held his feet motionless only for a moment. He darted forward, soccer ball forgotten under his arm. By the time he’d made it halfway across the yard, the black SUV had sped away.
    He jogged to the unmoving form, holding his breath. The tiger tattoo told Brad who lay before him.
    Squatting next to Ray’s motionless form, Brad dropped the ball and touched his shoulder with a shaking hand. “Ray? How badly are you hurt?” His voice wavered, but he pushed back the panic. Now wasn’t the time to lose his shit.
    Ray shifted his head enough for Brad to get a good look at his face. His eyes were almost swollen shut and blood smeared down his chin from a cut along his eyebrow. It was bad. Brad jumped to his feet. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get your dad.”
    “No!” Ray tried to stop Brad, then groaned and curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his ribs.
    “What?”
    “Please.” Ray coughed, a sickly wet sound that couldn’t be good. “Don’t tell him.” He sucked in a deep breath, and this time when he spoke, his voice was stronger. “There are too many people here.”
    Brad squatted down next to Ray. “I can’t leave you here.”
    Ray licked his lips, grimacing when his tongue touched blood. Brad cringed in sympathy. “Can I get Danny, at least?” he asked. He glanced behind him, hoping someone,
anyone
, would come out so he didn’t have to deal with this. Ray nodded.
    Brad sprung to his feet and dashed to the back fence. Danny appeared to be in deep conversation with Juan Carlos. Putting two fingers in his mouth, Brad let out a piercing whistle that would have given his mother a coronary. It got Danny’s attention, though. Danny, and what looked to be all ten kids, looked over.
    Brad lifted his chin to indicate he needed to speak with Danny. The other boy got the hint and escaped the younger crowd.
    “It’s Ray,” Brad said when Danny met him at the gate. “He’s hurt. Badly.”
    By the time they turned at the corner of the house, Ray had managed to sit up, but he still covered his ribs with his arms.
    Danny ran forward and dropped to Ray’s side. “Shit, Ray, what happened? Who did this?”
    Brad hung back, wanting to help, but feeling useless. Now that the surge of adrenaline was wearing off, the full impact of the situation hit him. He swallowed heavily to keep the queasiness at bay. Little details kept jumping out at him, filling his vision, like the camera for a police drama on TV cataloging a victim’s injuries.
Angle in on the black eye
,
pause.
Pan to the split lip
,
pause.
    Distantly, he heard Danny conducting a rapid-fire question-and-answer session with his brother as they argued about what to do. Most of it was a jumble of sounds and static. Fuzzy spots danced in his vision and his stomach twisted. He crossed his arms and shoved his trembling hands into his armpits.
    “We need to get you to the hospital,” Danny insisted.
    “No. I’ll be fine. I just need to get up to bed and sleep it off.”
    “Sleep it off? This isn’t a hangover, Ramón. Someone kicked the shit out of you. You might have broken bones or...or...internal bleeding or something. We need to call the cops, report this.”
    “No.” Ray shook his head and braced his hands on the grass to push himself up. “No cops.”
    “What the fuck do you mean, no cops? What happened?” Even as he demanded answers, Danny slipped an arm around Ray’s back to help bring him to his feet.
    “It’s none of your damned business,” Ray