Leaning against a tree a few metres back from the road, I take what I need from my backpack; rope, duct tape, a pocket knife and a handgun. I don’t know how Tanner got access to a handgun, and I don’t plan on using it, but he wouldn’t let me go through with this without it. I tuck it into the back of my jeans, place the pocket knife in my back pocket, and shove the rope and duct tape into the front of my hoodie.

Now, we just wait.

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.