CaughtInTheTrap Read online

  FIRST PUBLISHED BY BOOKSBYTOYE 2015

  COVER DESIGN COPYRIGHT NORTHSTAR MEDIA AND TOYE LAWSON BROWN.

  COVER MODEL: SHUTTERSTOCK

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I acknowledge god as the head of my life and without him; I would not be able to do what I enjoy. Second, I like to acknowledge my family for giving me strength and support to keep me going when I want to quit at times. No dream is worth having if you aren’t willing to put in the effort. My family enforces my efforts. I must not forget my team of beta readers. They are fantastic and I would be lost without them. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  DISCLAMER

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for the buyer’s personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold, uploaded via the internet, copied, printed, or redistributed without the written permission of the publisher or author. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to the retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  MY PERSONAL QUOTE: “SOMETIMES I WISH I COULD CRAWL INTO ONE OF MY FICTIONAL WORLDS AND LIVE THERE”---TOYE LAWSON BROWN

  Chapter One

  “Where is the bus?” Carla knew that staring down the deserted street and tapping her foot angrily wouldn’t make the bus appear any faster. “I can’t believe this dang bus is late too? I generally don’t catch this one, but I missed the one at my regular stop.” She said to the only other person in the bus shelter who sat quietly ignoring her existence.

  The adult white male with a colorful sleeve of tattoos crawling up both his muscular arms kept his eyes glued to his cell phone. Carla looked at him and rolled her eyes. Since he was in the shelter first, she did the polite thing and spoke first. He snubbed her. That didn’t come as a surprise considering the neighborhood where she worked. The majority of the people in the area snubbed their noses at her and people like her. She was the hired help that catered to the rich and important residents of the upper-class suburban neighborhood. Only, she didn’t clean toilets or scrub floors. She was a certified home health aide that provided care for the elderly parents of families that didn’t have time to care for them.

  Carla Parker inched her way by the man and sat on the far end of the bench to wait for a bus that RTA made no attempt to keep on a timely schedule. The low-level workers who relied on public transportation in this area had to take a chance on when the bus would come.

  Taking her cell phone from her pocket, she scrolled through it skipping the email messages from her sister; those could wait und she got home to read. What she looked for was an email from the City of Cleveland. She’d been on the waiting list for a position with EMS for three months. Hopefully, a position had become available.

  The tiresome job as a home health aide was not what she desired to do anymore. But, with her back against the wall and the bills piling up she had to step back into that role temporarily. Carla didn’t hate the job; it paid reasonably well, and there wasn’t much work involved with the couple she cared for. The Hearts were an elderly couple but not bedridden. They mostly took care of themselves, she was just there as an overseer. The downfall of the job was the travel to get to work. It was a long commute from Cleveland Heights to Cuyahoga Valley without a car.

  It was her fault she didn’t have a car anymore. Tonya warned her about driving with the check engine light on, but she saw no harm in doing it since there wasn’t any smoke or oil leaking from the car. One morning on the way to work the car conked out. That lesson costs her $100 in tow fees and an estimated $4,000 to replace the engine in a ten-year-old car. Not wanting to spend that kind of money on a clunker, she decided to use public transportation until she could buy another car.

  Carla exhaled an irritated breath and got up from the bench to look down the street again. Dusk was setting in and she still had connecting buses to catch to get home. Pacing, she drummed her hands against her thighs. She would make conversation with the man, but what would be the point? His face remained buried in his phone. She had forgotten he was there since he hadn’t moved a muscle in the last thirty minute.

  She stepped aside when three white men entered the bus shelter. Carla scanned over the well-dressed thin-built, white man who sat next to the tattooed man. Lo and behold, it was the first time he had raised his head. Two enormous men with large folded arms across their massive chests guarded the entrance of the bus shelter.

  Carla felt the hairs on her arms prickle. It was eighty-nine degrees outside and too humid and hot for the dark clothing the men wore. She scooted off the bench. Her sixth sense kicked in and shouted for her to get the hell out of the shelter and fast. The men were not from the area and were there to make trouble. She didn’t want any part of what was about to go down.

  “Excuse me,” she said standing before the men blocking her exit. Neither man moved from the entrance that led into or out of the shelter. And their massive body size did not leave her room to squeeze between them.

  Carla swallowed and repeated the request again, this time louder. “I said excuse me.”

  One of the men lowered his head down to look at her and in a thick accent said, “Have a seat.”

  Carla swallowed and realized the man was not American. At this point, she didn’t care what he was, she just wanted out of the bus shelter. She tried to sound tough. She had relatives that lived in the hood and a few male cousins who had friends tied to neighborhood gangs.

  She put her hands on her hips and rolled her neck. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t care to know what’s going on. Please, get out of my way!”

  “Shut up and sit down!” The man barked at her.

  “Hey!” The well-dressed man shouted. “Don’t yell at the young lady; we’ll deal with her later.”

  Carla frowned and started to curse at the men until she heard the heavy accent in his voice too. Sweat covered her entire body as she shook from the fear enveloping her. Crap! This cannot be good for me or the tattoo dude. She looked at the man who still seemed too calm for her liking. Suddenly, he looked up at her and then lowered his head again. What did that mean? Did he want her to do something? She couldn’t if she wanted to. Her legs were wobbly as wet noodles about to collapse. She sat down and felt her phone vibrating in the pocket of her smock. Whoever was calling would be the last person to contact her before her death. That is how she saw this situation ending; there was no way she was getting out of the bus shelter alive.

  She couldn’t draw her eyes away from the tattooed man. He was locked in a fierce eye stare with the thin man seated next to him. Carla imagined the bodyguards glared through the dark sunglasses they wore daring the man to make a move. One thing they didn’t have to worry about was her making any sudden moves. Fear had her glued to the bench. She figured this was obviously a drug deal or some other kind of deal gone wrong. The man was going to pay for whatever he’d done and she was caught in the trap.

  Then it happened.

  All hell broke loose in the confined space of the shelter. Carla jumped to her feet as the tattooed man leaped from his position, attacking the first bodyguard. The fighting was violent as the men threw punch after punch. The blows to the body made her cringe as she heard bones popping.

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she plastered herself in the corner of the shel
ter. The only way out was to go in between the men fighting—that wasn’t happening. A burly bodyguard fell into her, knocking her to the ground. She screamed as her head hit the cement floor. Her cries went unheard as the man pushed off her, to continue fighting. She peeked through closed eyes and saw all three men were engaged in a death battle. The tattooed man was at a disadvantage as the men ganged up on him. She needed to help him, but how?

  Carla scrambled to her feet. Somehow the thin, well-dressed man managed to get out the shelter. He banged on the thick glass wanting her attention. “Give me your hand,” he shouted to her.

  Confused at what he wanted her to do, Carla looked down at the ground. Did he expect her to crawl underneath the shelter to get out? The space was barely large enough for a small child to fit under much less a grown woman.

  He shouted at her again, this time he had a gun pointed at the shelter. She knew he was aiming at the tattooed man. She looked over at the three still fighting. The tattooed man, who was much larger than she first thought, had gained an advantage and was beating the living daylights out of one of the bodyguards. How the other ended up on the ground groaning and bleeding she didn’t know. The fastness of the act and the sound of the fighting going in the shelter played like a scene out of a movie. She didn’t believe any of it could be real.

  Carla didn’t know if she should trust the man outside the shelter with the gun. His offer to help her didn’t mean his intentions were good. She pegged him as a sleazy character and his trembling hand holding the gun made him appear unsure of what he should do next. She scooted further to the back of the shelter and crunched down between the bench and the glass wall. She wasn’t going anywhere with him.

  Surely, somebody would drive past the shelter and call police. Then the glass behind her head shattered when gunfire erupted. She covered her head screaming for dear life. More shots followed. They were rapid and sounded like firecrackers going off on the 4th of July.

  She peeked and saw the thin man fumbling to reload his gun. His trembling hand had missed his target as the tattooed man fought for his life. More men joined the thin man outside the shelter. Guns were pulled and Carla shouted. “Watch out!”

  The tattooed man swung the body of the man he was fighting around to block him. Bullets hit the man in the back and Carla jumped when his body fell at her feet with a hard thud. The tattooed man was clearly outnumbered. Her instincts kicked in when she saw a gun at her foot. She picked up the gun. Her timing was perfect as the tattooed man was pushed into her. Quickly, she folded the gun into the palm of his hand. The sound of gunfire echoed inside the shelter and she curled her body under the bench waiting for flying bullets to hit her.

  Seconds later, everything got quiet and she felt her body being pulled from under the bench. “Let go of me, dammit!” Carla yelled. She tried to grab hold of the bench to stop the man from taking her.

  “Move your ass now!” The man shouted at her.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you!” Her attempt to resist his pull was useless he was too strong to fight. She felt her feet hitting lumps and her stomach jerked. She knew one man was dead but had the tattooed man been also killed? Was it his body she was stepping on? She forced herself to look and saw the bodies of three men. All of them appeared to be dead. Bile filled her throat and she felt a wetness seep through the pants of her uniform. She’d urinated on herself from fear.

  The man yanked on her arm getting her attention. “We gotta run if you want to stay alive,” he commanded.

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she ran to keep up with the man holding her by the hand now. She got up the nerve to look at who was dragging her down the dark street. The tattoo running up his arm indicated he’d survived. How he survived a shootout with those men was beyond her. It was beyond her how she had survived.

  Craziness ran through her head as her feet hit the pavement. What was going on? Who was this man and why had he taken her with him? The biggest question was what happened to the well-dressed man that started the mess in the first place?

  Carla’s right leg cramped as they ran up and down the street filled with hills. The dark streets gave them coverage, but she was wearing white scrubs and white tennis shoes. They were sure to stick out in the darkness or as they passed under streetlights.

  A rapid round of gunfire rang out in the night behind them causing the man to make a swift turn, dragging her in a densely wooded area. “No, don’t go this way!” Carla puffed as she tried to slow him. “These woods have steep cliffs that drop into the Cuyahoga River.”

  She knew this because she visited the Metroparks often with a former boyfriend who was an avid and experienced outdoorsman. They would walk the trails and sit on the ledges of the cliffs enjoying the beauty of the park.

  “Keep moving, if you want to live,” he shouted back at her.

  Twigs snapped under her feet and leaves from low-hanging branches slapped her in the face as they ran. She tripped over tree roots sticking from underneath the ground, causing her hand to separate from his grip. She lay on the ground in pain unable to get up right away.

  Carla heard the mad curse as he turned around and came back. “Get up! We have to keep moving.”

  The pain in her hip tore through her; she wasn’t going anywhere. Annoyed, she shouted at the man that didn’t have any compassion or kindness in his voice. “Look, asshole! I don’t know who you are or what trouble you’ve gotten my ass in, but I’m not going anywhere. I can’t move.” She touched her hip; the wet spot had spread. It had rained the night before and she could’ve fallen in a puddle of water.

  “You have to get up. I’m trying to save your life.”

  Her leg was numbing from the thigh down to her knee. “I can’t run anymore.”

  He walked behind her and lifted her shirt. She heard his faint cursing. “You’ve been shot in the hip.”

  Shot! Stunned, Carla panicked. She was going to die in the woods, and no one would know where to find her body. He would leave her there to die while he escaped, saving his own life. “God, I’ve been shot! Why, Lord, is this happening?” She cried.

  “You have to be quiet. It’s just a flesh wound. I have to get you out of here. Do you have any friends that live around here?”

  She ignored the pain long enough to look at him. “Does it look like I would have friends that live around here?”

  He frowned and his voice deepened. “Look, I can leave you here and let him find you and finish the job, or you can cooperate; which is it going to be?”

  Carla snapped back. “I don’t have any friends that live around here. And if I lived around here do you think I would be catching a freaking bus?”

  “Hey! Keep your voice down. We don’t want to attract attention. We have to get to your place before they find us. Let me think of a plan.”

  “I live a long way from here. Unless, you’re able to pull a car from your ass; we’re stuck here. Oh, lawd, I’m going to die and don’t even know why,” she whined again.

  “Stop crying! I’m going to get us out of here.” He picked Carla up and placed her under a tree a few feet into the woods. “Don’t make a sound. I’ll be right back.”

  Carla heard his footsteps drift away. The silence of the woods didn’t sit well with her. She heard a noise in the tall grass not too far away. “Oh, God, please don’t be rats or raccoons…please!” Her leg went completely numb as she braced against the tree. Whatever was crawling to her probably smelled the fresh blood dripping from her wound.

  What if it’s a snake! She panicked and stood up using the base of the tree as a crutch. Standing on her good leg, she would drag her damaged leg behind her. She might not be a survivalist, but she knew she had to get the hell out of danger. And with tattoo man gone, now was her chance to escape. She limped away from the animal stalking her. Wandering blindly into the woods, she had no idea where she was. The houses in the area were not close to each other and the dense wood acted as a privacy barrier. Given where they’d entered the wood
s there were no homes in the undeveloped woods that led into the Cuyahoga Valley National Park.

  Carla hobbled to the next tree and leaned against it to rest. She needed light. The moonlight wasn’t bright enough to pierce the thick layers of trees. She reached into the pocket of her smock to get her cell phone. “My phone! Why didn’t I think of that sooner?” Her pocket was empty. “No, no, no! This can’t be happening!” She covered her mouth to keep from screaming out in frustration. Her phone probably dropped from her pocket in the bus shelter. All her identification was in her purse that was left in the bus shelter. The foreign man with the accent knew her name and where she lived if he took her purse.

  Carla dropped her head back against the tree wanting to cry but thanking God at the same time that she lived alone. If the man went to her apartment looking for her, no one would be in harm’s way. She heard twigs snapping under heavy footsteps in the distance. Was it the tattooed man looking for her or the well-groomed goon? She stood behind the girth of the tree perfectly still holding her breath until the footsteps faded away from her. She was stuck in the middle of running or staying put. She chose to stay put since running was not an option with her injured hip.

  Hip and leg injuries were nothing new to her. She was athletic. She was a track and field athlete that trained hard and competed for many years to gain a spot on the 2008 Summer Olympics. At age 19, Carla traveled to China as a member of team USA’s Women’s Track and Field. During a training exercise for the 400m quarterfinals, she suffered a stress fracture in her foot and had to sit out the event. She had expected to win a gold medal. She had achieved her biggest accomplishment and also the worst letdown of her life. While, all wasn’t lost, she left China with a host of new friends and lots of memories.

  Carla wiggled her toes; she had feeling returning to her leg. She would rest it for a while longer before trying to walk on it. She wiped sweat from her forehead. It was humid with no wind blowing to create a breeze. Checking her watch, it was almost 9:00 o’clock. She could only hope her sister Paula would call the police if she didn’t get an answer from Carla by morning. It was not her routine to stay away from home all night and not let someone know where she was. Paula always called to make sure she made it to and from work in one piece. The connecting buses she had to catch to Cleveland Heights took her through some rough areas of town. And when Paula married and moved to Michigan with their disabled mother, the calls gave their mother a piece of mind.