Page 106 of Desperate Justice

The same town as Paul’s warehouse. Suddenly everything fell into place. Rafe turned to Greg.

“You’re sure Hernandez is home?”

“Dead certain. We have a tail on him now.”

“Son of a...” Rafe squeezed his phone until his knuckles whitened.

His voicemail chimed again, reminding him of a message. Rafe listened to it and his heart dropped to his stomach. All the protocol, control and reason flew apart.

“Allison’s going after her sister. She thinks Diana is being held captive in her fiancé’s warehouse here in town. It’s got to be the same one. I’ll meet you there.”

“Rafe, wait!”

But Greg’s protest met with deaf ears as Rafe jumped on his Harley and sped off.

* * *

When she arrived on the outskirts of the town of Randall, Allison followed the GPS to the road leading to Paul’s business.

After parking her bike a few hundred yards away from the building, she hid it in the brush.

Light from the lemon wedge of moon hanging low in the sky helped her see the way. Sticking to the shadows, she made her way on the road to the front gate. It was locked.

No matter. She tested the chain-link fence. Not electrified. Allison climbed it, dropped down and made her way in the shadows to the oblong building.

Sodium lights in the parking lot showed only three cars. One she instantly recognized as the sedan Diana had taken. Next to it was the white panel van Rafe had mentioned.

Her sister was a victim in all this.

Aware of a building security camera pointed at the parking lot, she made her way toward the back. With so few cars here, she might be lucky enough no one would catch her.

A door was propped open near the loading dock. Two tractor trailer trucks sat at the dock. She walked inside.

Listening to the frantic beating of her heart, she allowed herself a minute to calm down and control her breathing. Furniture was stacked up in the warehouse near the loading dock. The warehouse seemed divided in half, with the storage for transport in the back half of the building. Light spilled into the room from the rest of the building.

Using the piles of furniture for cover, she slipped around them to the doorway of the next room. Stacks of wood near the door allowed her to hide while she studied the layout.

Near one of the work tables, Paul examined a tan teddy bear while a man she vaguely recognized stood guard with an automatic rifle.

It looked like an ordinary warehouse, with piles of lumber stacked to one side, metal shelving and work tables scattered with tools. A staged living room was near an office with large windows, far from the work tables.

A leather sectional sofa, which looked perfect for snuggling up to enjoy movies, had a lovely white oak coffee table before it. The sofa was flanked by two hand-carved white oak end tables, accented by the soft glow of table lamps. Lucy Martin, her sister’s nemesis and Paul’s ex, lay on the sofa asleep.

The cozy space was accented with an opulent high-backed sturdy armchair. On the buttery soft leather sat her sister, a dirty rag gagging her mouth, her feet and arms tied with frayed rope to the chair.

Allison bit back a gasp. Damn them. Damn them all for doing this.

A crash echoed through the building. Paul and the gunman looked up.

“Marty, check it out,” Paul ordered. “It had better be the guys returning. They’re running late. We have to get all these bears stripped, loaded and out of here by dawn.”

As the gunman advanced toward the front of the warehouse, a dark figure crept toward her sister from the opposite direction. He dropped to his knees and began fiddling with her bonds.

Rafe. Allison clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp.

Diana frantically struggled. Rafe was trying to assure her.

But her struggles got noticed by Paul, who glanced over. Oh damn. Allison’s heart leaped into her throat as Paul pulled out a gun.