Avenging Alex (16 page)

Situated on a fifty-acre parcel of land twenty miles north of Puente Hills and south of the San Gabriel Mountains, an abandoned farmhouse was veiled by towering California sycamores and teeming with eucalyptus. It was well off the beaten path and could easily be missed traveling most any direction on the interstate to and from the valley or toward the greater Los Angeles area. One had to know it was there in order to find it. The house and property once owned by Harley Donovan's grandparents now belonged to him.

Lorraine had never been so far outside that which was familiar to her and with little sense of direction she doubted if she would be able to locate it again. “What is this place?”

Donovan shot her a side-glance. His silence was unnerving. He pulled up to the house and she noted the license plate of the Land Rover parked in front.

She murmured, trying to lock the numbers in her memory, “2CJC569 . . . 2CJC569 . . . 2CJC569.”

“That's not gonna do you any good,” Donovan said. “You're not gonna be around long enough to tell anybody.”

He got out and went around to the passenger side of his vehicle. He unlocked the handcuffs and pulled her out. Pilar opened the door to the house and stepped out onto the porch. Gil came out and took hold of Lorraine. He leered at her and nuzzled her neck. She squirmed, disgusted.

“Leave her alone,” Pilar insisted.

Gil grumbled and dragged her inside.

“I gotta get back,” Donovan said.

“What should we do if John Chase shows up?”

“He won't. He has no idea where I am, but I know exactly where he is.” Donovan jumped back into his SUV and rolled down the window. “If I'm not back by six . . . kill them.”

“What about the baby?” Pilar asked.

“Kill them all.” He sped off toward his loft, making ready for the confrontation he knew awaited him.

Gil heaved Lorraine into the room where Jamilah was being kept and locked the door. Both women were startled to see the other. Lorraine stood against the wall, staring warily at Jamilah sitting on the bed holding Cerena as she slept. Jamilah drew up, unsure what to expect next. Lorraine nervously looked around to find a way out without acknowledging her. She tugged pointlessly on the bars at the window much like Jamilah had initially.

Jamilah spoke. Her voice was hoarse and weak. “Unless you have superhuman strength you're wasting your time.”

Lorraine turned away from the window and sat on the arm of a ragged upholstered chair facing the bed. She rubbed the bruises left from the handcuffs on her delicate wrists, and caught sight of the trail of dried blood on the hardwood floor.

“How are you connected to all of this?”

Lorraine's eyes fluttered up to Jamilah. “Connected?”

“Are you one of them?”

Lorraine pulled uncomfortably at the neck of her hoodie. “No, I'm not one of them. I don't know who these people are. I was brought here by a man I thought I could trust; apparently I was wrong.”

“A man I trusted is the reason I'm here as well.”

“I don't understand what any of this is about,” Lorraine continued. “What do you think they're going to do to us?”

Jamilah closed her eyes and shook her head, unwilling to give voice to the inconceivable.

“How long have you been here?”

“I don't know. A day or two perhaps.”

“Is this your baby?”

“No, this is my granddaughter, Cerena.”

“Cerena.” Lorraine smiled sadly. “That's a pretty name.”

Jamilah caressed Cerena's soft curls and teared up. “It means calm, peaceful, cheerful.”

“She's beautiful. I can't imagine that Donovan would do anything to hurt her.”

“Donovan?” Jamilah repeated.

“Harley Donovan. He brought me here,” Lorraine said. “Do you know him?”

“He's . . . he's Inspector Chase's partner.”

“You know my husband?”

“Your . . .” Recognition flashed in Jamilah's eyes. “Inspector Chase is your husband?”

Lorraine's brow furrowed. “Yes. My name is Lorraine. What's your name?”

“Jam . . . Janette Sullivan.”

Lorraine gasped. “Adriane Sullivan is your daughter?”

“Yes, she is.”

Lorraine stood up and paced the room. “Oh, wow. Now it makes sense. Harley brought me here to get to John. John must be off somewhere with . . . your daughter.”

Jamilah looked hopeful. “Then she's all right. She's alive.” She cleared her throat. “I think Harley Donovan is working for a man named Xavier Rivera. If the inspector is with my daughter he'll keep her safe.”

Both women turned and stared at the door when they heard the key turning in the lock. Pilar entered, flanked by her gun-toting accomplice. She noted the half-eaten sandwich on the tray she'd prepared for Jamilah's lunch. “What was wrong with it? You do not care for the accommodations?”

“I wasn't hungry,” Jamilah responded flatly.

“I see.” Pilar turned her attention to Lorraine. “Would you care for anything?” Her tone was more condescending than cordial.

“I would care to get the hell out of here and home to my children,” Lorraine shot back.

Pilar smirked and removed the tray as Gil stood guard. Seconds later Pilar came back and went to the bed where Jamilah sat, and reached for Cerena.

Jamilah pulled back. “What are you doing?”

“She is coming with me.”

“No. I won't let you take her.”

“Give her to me!”

Caught between the two, Cerena began to cry. Lorraine looked on, horrified, afraid to move.

“Let her go or I will break her neck,” Pilar sneered.

“No,” Jamilah wailed as she reluctantly complied. “Where are you taking her?”

“That is none of your concern.”

Jamilah struggled upward and lunged toward Pilar as she turned to leave with Cerena. With the baby cradled in her arm Pilar shoved Jamilah backward with her free hand, causing her to tumble to the floor. Lorraine rushed to Jamilah's aid as she clutched her chest and wheezed.

“Please don't take her,” Jamilah cried. “She's just a baby. Please don't hurt her.”

Pilar swept out of the room and Gil followed, securing the door behind him.

“I can't breathe,” Jamilah choked. “I can't breathe.”

Lorraine helped Jamilah to the bed and found the inhaler sticking out from under a pillow. She passed it to Jamilah and she puffed and inhaled the necessary amount of medication into her lungs to settle her breathing.

 

 

Donovan drew his weapon and exited the elevator on the floor leading to his loft. He knew at once that the lock on the door had been tampered with. His place was ransacked. His gaze narrowed and he moved cautiously inside. He pushed the door closed behind him with his weapon trained and readied. “John? I know you're here. Come on out, buddy.” Uneasily, he opened closet doors, righted furniture, and peered around corners. Continuing into the bedroom he discovered his papers strewn across the floor. He zeroed in on the closet and the open safe. John was nowhere to be found. When he went back into the living room he was startled by the discovery of the front door standing ajar. He crept toward it and stuck his head out to scan the corridor, and was jumped from behind.

John wrapped his leather belt around Donovan's neck and pulled tight enough to cut off his air. Still holding on to his gun, Donovan choked and tried to free himself with his free hand. The harder he fought the more force John exerted.

“Drop the gun,” John demanded, kicking the door closed.

Perspiration popped from Donovan's forehead and he flushed various shades of red, but he would not relent.

“I swear to God I will choke the living shit out of you if you don't drop your weapon.”

Convinced of the futility of his effort, Donovan ultimately gave in. John booted the gun away from him and let him go. Donovan fell to his knees, coughing and gagging, and John picked up his gun and took aim. “Where are they?”

“Who?”

“No more games. You know exactly who I'm talking about.”

Donovan gasped. “Where's Alex Solomon?”

“I'm not fuckin' around with you, Donovan.”

“Then don't trade the life of the mother of your children for the life of a piece of ass with a price on her head.”

John snatched Donovan by the hair. “Tell me where they are right now or I promise you I'll plug your ass full of lead right here.”

“You picked the wrong horse on this one, buddy. If I don't get back to them by six o'clock you'll wish you hadn't.”

John racked a bullet in the chamber of the Glock. “I'm gonna count to three and then I'm gonna blow your goddamned kneecaps unless you tell me what I wanna know. One . . . two . . .” He bashed Donovan in the face, sending him hurdling to the floor. “Sorry, I guess I forgot to say three.” He pressed the gun to Donovan's crotch. “I just decided your cock would make a much better target.”

“Okay. Wait. Wait. I'll take you to 'em.”

“Get up.”

Donovan pulled himself up and wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

John rapped him on the back of his head with the butt of the Glock. “Let's go. And don't even think about trying anything.”

Donovan was forced behind the wheel of his SUV and at gunpoint he started for the farmhouse.

“I'm curious . . . How'd you figure it out?” Donovan asked.

“Something Rivera said about enemies when he called Alex. It didn't sit right. I just put it together with what you said before. I didn't wanna believe it until I found the evidence in your safe.”

“How'd you figure that one out?”

“You got Bear to thank for that.”

Donovan chuckled. “You were always smarter than I gave you credit for.”

“Wish I could say the same for you.” John extracted his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Lorraine's parents. “Madeline, it's John . . . I'm fine. Listen, can you pick up the kids from the house and keep them with you? Yes, everything's fine. Lorraine's with me . . . I really don't have time to explain right now. I'll have her call you back later. Just keep them with you until you hear from me . . . Thanks, Madeline.” He ended the call.

“How do you think ol' Liam and Maddie are gonna feel about you when they find out what you got their little princess into?” Donovan sneered.

“You should be more worried about what's gonna happen to you if anything happens to her,” John shot back. “Now keep your eyes on the road.”

Donovan chuckled again and glanced over, rubbing the soreness in his jaw. “I think I lost a filling.”

“You've been sabotaging this case from the very beginning. You better be glad I don't knock all your damn teeth down your throat.”

“Don't you wanna know what happened? Why I . . . turned? Would you believe me if I told you I did this all for love?” Donovan smirked. “Love is what makes the world go 'round, right? Love and lots of money, or love of money. Ain't love the reason you came chargin' in like the cavalry to save the day? I'm not that much different from you, buddy.”

“We're nothing alike. And don't call me buddy, you son of a bitch!”

“Oooh, sticks and stones, my friend.”

“Just drive, asshole.”

During the thirty-five minute drive John took his eyes off Donovan just long enough for him to secure a small can of Mace he'd hidden in the side compartment of the driver's side door just under the handle. He turned off the main road and steered through trees that appeared like sentinels and passed a hefty grove of eucalyptus.

John caught a glimpse of the farmhouse a half mile ahead of them and instructed Donovan to stop the SUV in a tall patch of dried grass. John reached over and snatched the keys from the ignition. “How many are inside?”

Donovan didn't answer.

John pressed the gun into Donovan's temple. “How many?”

“Two.”

“Is there a back way in?”

Donovan nodded.

John got out and pulled Donovan's cell phone from his pocket. “Call them.”

“What?”

“It's almost six. Call them. Now!”

Donovan reached for the phone with his right hand while he eased his left down to his side to get hold of the can of Mace. He jerked and pointed. The unfocused direction caused the spray to miss its target, filling the cabin with noxious gas.

John's weapon discharged. The bullet shattered the driver's side window. Donovan bolted from the SUV weaving deep into the wooded area. John pursued him. Seeing a clear shot, he took aim and fired. Donovan dropped like a wildebeest.

The echoing blast brought Gil to the door of the farmhouse. John ducked to avoid detection.

Gil stepped away from the house and spied Donovan's SUV. He ran back inside and flung open the door to the room where the women were held. He yanked Lorraine away from Jamilah's side.

“Let go of me!” Lorraine shrieked.

“Your big, bad hubby just showed up for the party.” He wrapped his forearm around her neck and kissed her cheek. “Too bad, too. We could have been really, really good friends if we had the time.”

Lorraine clawed Gil's bare arm, attempting to wriggle free. The more she twisted the tighter his grip became. A shadow passed across the back window, causing the squirrelly Gil to shoot wildly toward it. Lorraine sunk her teeth into his arm and stomped on his foot. He stumbled backward and tumbled over wood crates that were being used as a table and chairs. John smashed the window with his gun and shot Gil dead as he scrambled to his feet.