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Chapter Thirty-Eight

Jesse

I’ve never been the violent type, but I’ve always been willing to do what it takes to protect those I love. My brain snaps into singing ‘I’d rather be a lover than a fighter’ and I smirk. Now is not the time to joke around, Jesse. Surprisingly, it wasn’t all that hard to tie up the driver, tape his mouth shut with duct tape, and throw him in the back of the van.

The van which was empty — not something I was expecting, maybe they are taking drugs from here instead of unloading them? I guess I’ll find out soon. Deep down, I know Tanner is right; I know there is more evil here than Stanley has told us, but I am holding onto hope Tanner is wrong. It’s only drugs …

The long dirt driveway to the warehouse is lined with trees and scrub. I follow it around to the rear, where only one of the two roller doors are open. The driveway curves into a circle to mimic a roundabout, and a large flood light illuminates the abandoned space. I park the van strategically to the side, partly hidden in the shadows and kill the engine. It’s go time.

“Driver’s here, get the girls.” I hear a deep voice call out into the building.

My stomach drops. Fuck, it can’t be. I shake the thought out of my head and focus on the job at hand; finding Warren. Before going in, I move the driver into the passenger seat, leaving the back of the van open. As long as whoever, or whatever, goes into this van is in my care, I’ll find a way to take care of it.

Pulling my hood higher over my head, I slip around the side, towards the front of the building where I think I saw a door. Turning the knob, I sigh a breath of relief when I find the door unlocks. Quietly, I enter.

Inside, I’m reminded of an old reception area, the carpet is stained and the furniture in the room smells damp and mouldy. This left side of the warehouse must be split up into rooms — maybe old offices, whereas the right hand side where the roller door was lifted up was clearly used for loading and unloading goods, looking more like a workshop space.

Taking the hallway to my left, I walk further into darkness. Voices come from behind a door to my right and I sink back into the shadows of the hallway. The door opens and a man exists, thankfully walking in the opposite direction to where I’m standing. When he is out of sight, I slink through the shadows towards the open door.

In the centre of the room sits an old dining table, this must be used as a tea room or kitchen. With the coast clear I enter, closing the door behind myself. For a moment I take in my surroundings and gather my thoughts, there is a whiteboard on the far wall with dates and times written all over it.

Before I can get close enough to read any of the details I hear a creak behind me. Spinning around and placing my hand on the gun tucked into the back of my jeans, I face a man who looks to be in his fifties with rough facial hair, torn jeans and a flannelette shirt. His eyes meet mine and go wide with shock. Pushing my hood off of my head, I drop my hand from the gun.

“W-Warren?”

“Jesse,” he stammers. “What — you can’t be here.” Checking over his shoulder, he closes the door we both came through.

“I’m here to get you the hell out of this place,” I whisper-shout, throwing my arms out to the side.

“I don’t understand Jesse. How? Why?”

“I can explain all of that, but right now we need to leave before they realise what’s going on. There is a van parked at the rear entrance, that’s our ticket out.”

Warren approaches me and places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “Follow me.”

Slinking through the shadows once more, Warren leads the way towards the back of the warehouse. Somehow, we make it all the way to the van without being seen, but the relief is short lived. As I wrap my fingers around the door handle, something cold and hard presses against my back.

“L-Lance,” Warren mutters. The tone in his voice tells me this man holds significant power over him.

Raising my hands above my head, I step forward and slowly begin to turn to face the devil. The man who has had us walking on eggshells for the past twelve years. The one who holds the answers. My hands shake, I know I’m only going to get one shot at this, if only I had taken Tanner up on those lessons out at the shooting range.

I take a small step backwards, my hands dropping to my side. Lance’s eyes are glancing between Warren and myself. As his eyes look towards Warren once more, I reach around behind my back and palm the gun. The rough texture of the handgrip tells me I have taken hold of the right part. There’s no time to think.

In one quick motion I move the gun from being tucked away in my jeans to now pointing directly at Lance. Pulling back the slide on top, the gun loads with a click. As Lance’s eyes look back at me, they narrow. I swallow hard, trying to contain my nerves, I have to get out of this alive and not try to be the next John Wick.

A deep belly laugh rumbles out of Lance. He’s a big man, both tall and broad, grey stubble creeps up his jaw along with a thick goatee. Tattoos cover half his face and both his arms, not in the sexy way like Tanner either; this guy gives me an ick.

“Put the gun down kid, you’ll flamin’ hurt yourself.”

Instead of listening, I do the opposite. With my eyes glued on the man in front of me I speak with clear determination and my finger on the trigger. “Get in the van, Warren, we’re leaving.”

Lance hovers his gun between Warren and myself. “I’ll ask once more, you little cunt.” His face turns a lovely shade of red. “Then you’ll see just how fucking nasty I can get.”

I take the opportunity while he isn’t focused solely on me. In my head I count down from three, ‘ on one, we shoot’ I tell myself.

Three. Two. BANG.

The gun fires, the sudden bang causing my eyes to close and my ears to ring. My elbows bend slightly, as I’m hit with the recoil. For something so small, this thing has a kick to it.

Shit. What did you just do Jesse? I wasn’t aiming to kill, I was aiming to buy us time, just to slow him down a little. It was only a split second, but it was like everything moved in slow motion, as if I could see the bullet leave the barrel, spinning towards Lance and the impact of it going right through his shoulder.

Another bang sounds, or at least I thought it did; maybe it was just still echoing in my ears. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard things that weren’t there. Focusing on all that is happening in front of me, I see Lance stumbling backwards into the wall, holding his shoulder. The impact had caused his shoulder to snap backwards and throw him off balance; hitting the wall, he lands on his ass with a groan and a thud. Warren is standing behind me in shock; he reaches out for me, and I flinch at his touch. Voices are coming closer. If anyone was in the warehouse, they would have heard the shots go off.

Get out of here, Jess. Now!

“Warren!” I yell. “Get in the van!”

I jump into the driver’s seat and drag the tied up man into the middle so Warren has room to climb in as well. The man is mumbling under the tape across his mouth, I don’t have time to deal with him right now. We need to get out of here.

I press the accelerator to the floor and the tyres spin in the dirt as we take off. My shoulder is still aching from the force of the gun’s recoil. Why did no one prepare me for that? I rub just below my collar bone to ease the burn. My shirt is damp with something warm and sticky, pulling my fingers away I hold my hand up into my view.

“It wasn’t an echo,” I say more to myself, but as realisation takes over I speak again. “Warren, I’ve been shot.”

Shock starts to cloud my rational thinking. I glance in the rear view mirror – no lights are following. I come to a stop at the end of the driveway, turn off the engine, and listen. There’s silence.

“We need to find somewhere to park so that I can patch you up, Jess.”

I’m beginning to feel dizzy, my clouded thoughts now turning fuzzy, I need to get Warren … the girls – are there girls in the back of this van? I rush to the back, checking over my shoulder, and grasp the door handle.

“My name is Jesse. I’m here to help, not to hurt you. I’ve been shot, but once I’m cleaned up I will get each of you to safety. I promise.” Muffled cries respond, and it takes all my willpower to delay opening the door. Every minute counts, and we need to get to safety. Right fucking now.

“I have – I have a first aid kit in my ute a little down the road,” I say to Warren once I’m back in the van.

“Take us there,” he says with concern all over his face. “You’re only going to be able to run on adrenaline for so long.”