Casey's Choice

By Cole Allen

Casey Louise Ashworth is a medical student on the fast track to reaching her dreams when she meets the man that will make her question everything she knows. Caleb Choice is the son of an outlaw, a bank robber, and the fastest rising name on the list of America’s Most Wanted. Casey’s Choice is a fast moving, action packed, suspense thriller with constant twists, wrapped around the passionate love story of these two beautiful people. Caleb has been untouchable in his criminal affairs, but a moment of arrogance threatened to cost him everything. He meets Casey when he ducks into a building to hide from the police, and from that moment on they are inseparable, fleeing from outlaws and cops alike, as they fall further in love and try to survive. Soon they begin to discover that their families have a history of bad blood and the two of them are caught in the middle of a war. Now, they have to rely on each other to stay alive and save their newfound love. One mistake could cost them everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329112551

Book preview

Casey's Choice

CASEY’S CHOICE

A Novel

Cole Allen

Copyright © 2015 by Nicholas Peterson

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2015

ISBN 978-1-329-11255-1

www.coleallenwrites.com

Cover Photo by Kurtis Kronk, Kurtiskronk.com

For My Wife And Best Friend

You are my favorite part of life.

Without you, nothing I do is possible.

Prologue

Christmas Day, 1989.

The wind howled outside the two inch thick glass that separated Caleb from the outside world and the night appeared to be frigid, but Christmases in Brayton were never really cold. Temperatures may have dropped to fifty degrees some years and the wind could make it feel like it was in the forties, but not this year. The breeze only made the sixty-three degree temperatures feel closer to fifty-three degrees. A light jacket was all he would need if he stepped outside the warmth of those mansion walls. A light jacket or a warm sweater. Caleb chose the latter. He donned the white sweater his mother purchased for him a week earlier, and his father wore one to match. They both paired it with tan dress pants and brown loafers, but his father wore a white shirt underneath and Caleb refused. His father claimed the sweater made him itch. Caleb bragged about how comfortable it felt, and how snug it fit him.

A gold Rolex watch with a white analog face and gold numbers was wrapped around his left wrist, and a thin gold bracelet hugged his right. Caleb always wore watches with the face on the inside of his wrist and this time was no different. In his right hand he held a brown coffee mug with a cartoon reindeer painted on the front and Bailey’s Irish coffee inside. He slowly took sip after sip as he peered out into the night sky through their large living room window that Christmas evening, and waited for his mom. His mother was older now, and she hadn’t cooked Christmas dinner in several years. Getting the family together had been difficult for quite some time, and a full ham and sides were too much for her and her husband. She refused to exert the amount of time and energy a meal like that requires just to waste the food. Instead, she decided to start a new tradition, and Caleb was thrilled to finally get to enjoy it. 

Its name was Cookie Day. In a few minutes a smorgasbord of cookies would be displayed on their dining room table and glasses of cold milk would be readily distributed. The three of them would sit at the table and share their thoughts while the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies seduced them. One by one they would indulge in the taste and the warmth of five different flavors of cookies. There would be the soft Chocolate Chip cookies that his father specifically requested, and sweet sugar cookies with sprinkles on top. Caleb was sure to reach for the crumbling cake cookies his mother made for all special occasions as soon as he sat down. The vanilla icing she smothered each one in was more than addicting, and Caleb couldn’t resist. Then he would take a sip of cold milk and grab his mother’s Molasses cookies for a little spice. His mom was a woman of specifics and habits though. She would only indulge in one type of cookie, but she would be responsible for devouring the entire trey. Peanut Butter cookies never lasted long in her kitchen, and her family knew it. She offered them to everyone at the table, but her men knew better than to accept. Those were for her.

Caleb could smell the aroma of warm chocolate chip cookies permeating the bottom floor of their house already, and his mouth was watering. The ranch outside of the window was quiet and serene. The wind had lightened and the trees were settling down. The property was dark and sleeping. Caleb was relaxed and felt at home for the first time in years. He had almost forgotten how wonderful it truly was to spend Christmas in a warm house with your family close to you. He had almost forgotten why this was his favorite time of the year.

They lived on a private ranch on the outskirts of town, and rarely had visitors drop by. Still, that didn’t stop his parents from enjoying the spirit of the season. His father hired a crew of fifty people to decorate his property with Christmas lights and fixtures the day after Thanksgiving. Then he hired the same crew to come back on New Year’s Day to tear it all down. This year he asked them to do more than ever before, because his family would finally be together for the holidays. The house was laced with white lights and wreaths. The yard had a life size Santa Clause riding in a sleigh pulled by life size reindeer. Two feet tall candy canes connected by a row of white lights outlined their circular driveway. There were elves dancing in their water fountain and Christmas trees in their yard. The large trees that hid their house from the main road were laced with colorful lights that twinkled in the night and randomly placed stars that lit up the sky. Caleb loved them all.

He watched as the lights blinked in the trees. He watched as the antlers of the deer flickered on and off, and he wondered if anyone could see them from the road. He wondered if anything could be better than his life at that moment. Caleb took the last sip of his Bailey’s and turned for the kitchen with a child-like smile on his face. The nostalgic sounds of Nat King Cole singing about chestnuts roasting on an open fire crackled through an old phonograph in the corner of the living room, and visions of Christmases long ago flashed through his mind.

His father was already seated at the head of the table when he made his way into the fluorescent lights of their oversized kitchen with his hand on his belly and his eyes on the feast. Caleb chuckled at the adolescent smile on his father’s face and the makeshift paper towel bib in the collar of his shirt. He gave him a slight nod in approval and kept walking. With a loving kiss on the cheek and a warm embrace, Caleb thanked his mother for all that she had done, and set his mug in the sink. Then he walked back through the living room and passed that same window on his way to the bathroom. Caleb couldn’t help but glance through the glass one more time as he walked by. He loved the glow of Christmas lights and what they represented. He loved the ambiance they provided, and how they made him feel. He just took a slight peek, just a brief glance on his way through, but something caught his eyes.

There were lights peaking through the trees that weren’t there a minute before. They were colorful lights flashing in the night sky, and they were moving. Caleb took a step closer to the window and focused his vision. The new lights were growing bigger by the second and multiplying. Caleb turned and ran for the front door. He swung it open fiercely and fell into the night air. Sirens accompanied those lights, multiple sirens. Four police troopers came screaming down the caliche road that led to their front door and stopped in unison before him. His mother and father came racing out of the house, and stood on either side of their son. Caleb thought about running. He figured he knew the ranch better than they did, and he could lose them in the woods. He thought seriously about running, but he didn’t do it. He just stood still in the chill of the night with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders squared. Two officers popped out of the first two cars and approached their unsuspecting hosts. Caleb recognized one of them. She was an old friend of a friend and they seemed to cross paths quite often. She scurried over to his side with her right hand on her pistol and her left displaying her badge.

Caleb Choice I need to you come with me, she demanded. You are under arrest. You have the right to… She quickly grabbed Caleb’s right wrist, the one with the bracelet on it, and yanked it behind his back. Then she did the same with his left wrist and cuffed them together.

What’s this concerning, screamed his father.

Like hell he is, his mother yelled. Get off of him! She tried to wrestle the officer’s hands away from her son, but the officer just shoved her back into his father’s arms and kept moving. Her partner drew his weapon and aimed it at Caleb’s parents, but holstered it just as quick. The message had been received loud and clear. No need for violence.

Anything you say can and will be…. She continued without acknowledging his parents’ existence. She was given explicit instructions not to engage in conversation with the family and friends. Her orders were to apprehend Mr. Caleb Choice, and she was more than happy to do so. She had been waiting for this moment for close to a year, now. This arrest would be the most rewarding of her career.

Caleb didn’t say a word. He didn’t really know what to say. He just stood courageously by his parents as they bound his wrists and shoved him into the backseat. He surrendered himself willingly even though thoughts of resistance ran through his mind, and he probably should have demanded an explanation. By the time the officers put the car in drive and pulled away, he was busy retracing all of his steps and searching for a mistake. He was busy looking for the flaw in his work, but he couldn’t find it. His parents were still yelling in protest and kicking the side of the cars as they drove by. Their screams were loud, but Caleb wasn’t listening. Their gripes were valid, but nobody seemed to care. The convoy of police cruisers pulled out of the gates of their property and sped towards downtown Brayton. Caleb figured downtown would probably be his home for a while. He figured his deeds had finally caught up to him and life was about to take a turn for the worse. He watched out of the backseat window as the free world passed by him. He watched it like a man seeing the free world for the last time, and he realized he had no more moves to make. He realized he had no control of what happened next, and he took a long, slow, deep breath. Caleb slouched in his seat and tried to get as comfortable as a man can with his hands cuffed behind his back. Then he rested his head against the cold backseat window and closed his eyes. It’s only fitting, he thought. All good things must come to an end.

Chapter 1

January 20th, 1989

CALEB STOOD AGAINST the eastern most wall of the Brayton National Bank lobby and surveyed his surroundings. He was the only one there at that time of day. He was always the only one in the building. That’s the way he preferred things to be. It was better that way, because it made for an easier environment to control. He glanced up at the camera in the corner of the lobby, above the fake plant and the lenders desk. Then he looked at all six of the cameras above the four teller windows. Then the two above the front door catching a glimpse at everyone that walked into the building. Every one of them had RC Securities tagged on them in bold white letters. They all appeared to be simultaneously focused on him, but Caleb knew that none of them knew he was in the room.

He was in the blind spot. He was in the shadows where no camera covered and no one could detect him. Every bank had one. At least every bank he worked had one. This bank was forbidden fruit for Caleb. Which made it even harder to resist. Which made it even more pleasurable to work. He took a moment and inhaled the cool air of the vacant rooms in front of him. The freshly waxed tile floors carried a sweet, lemony aroma, and Caleb filled his nostrils with every once he could. The desks were all dark mahogany and the chairs smelled like new leather. Windows covered the north wall from floor to ceiling, and Caleb watched naïve citizens walk back and forth along the downtown sidewalks. There was something thrilling about robbing a bank while people passed by unaware. There was something intoxicating about the entire experience.

His dress shoes had been polished the night before. His suit was freshly washed and perfectly tailored. He wore a solid black V-neck shirt under his jacket, and his stopwatch was ticking away in his front pocket. A brand new pair of leather gloves that he purchased at a biker rally the week before covered his hands, and aviator sunglasses covered his eyes. Caleb set the black gym bag that he held in his right hand on the ground next to him, and pulled the gloves tight onto his fingers. He pulled a black bandana out of his left rear pocket and carefully tied it around his face. The mouth of a skull was painted on it in white, and Caleb was officially unidentifiable.

He spun one hundred and eighty degrees and faced the east wall of the bank. He crouched slightly and lifted the empty gym bag up to his side. Then one by one he slid his feet along the slick tile floor and moon walked into the center of the room. He fell into a tornado like spin and stopped with his hand in the air. Then he waved his middle finger at the camera above the fake plant and lenders desk with the zeal of a rock star. This was out of character for Caleb. Usually he was professional about his work and very efficient. Usually he was a ghost, but this time he wanted to send a message to the man watching the monitors, and he succeeded. He got the message loud and clear, but he got the message a lot faster than Caleb expected.

He turned for the vault and sirens filled the streets of Brayton. Red and blue lights flashed outside of the window. Brayton Badges stormed the streets in a hurry and Caleb darted for the doors behind the teller stations. The keypad to the back offices was old and the code hadn’t been changed in a year. He pressed the four most worn out numbers in consecutive order. 4567. No response. 4675. Still nothing. The officers were coming through the front door. 4765. The third time was the charm and Caleb slipped into the back rooms. He dropped the empty bag and threw a small chair through the window on the west wall of the three-story building. A fixed ladder for roof access was fifteen inches away from the windowsill. Caleb swung out and grabbed it with his right hand, and carefully placed his right foot on the bottom step. It took thirteen steps to get to the roof, and Caleb was eight steps in before he looked down and saw the officers climbing out of the window behind him.

He sped up his pace, and stepped out onto the roof. He looked down and saw four badges scurrying up the ladder behind him. He looked down at the street and four more were waiting in their cars. He leaned forward and sprinted up the rooftop. It was slightly slanted at a twenty-degree angle and easy to run. The shingles were worn and some were even coming loose, but Caleb was making good time. He stayed upright until he reached the peak and fate took over. A loose shingle pulled his feet out from under him like a banana peel in the old cartoons he used to watch as kid. In the blink of an eye, he was inverted and headed for the concrete. He struggled to gain control of his body, but Caleb managed to flip himself over just before he reached the edge of the roof. The left side of his chest caught on a protruding nail from one of the shingles as he slid off and grabbed the decorative trim on the building. He dangled from the east wall of the bank for a brief second before dropping down onto his feet and sprinting away.

The officers on the roof saw him fall and retreated back to the ladder. They didn’t figure his knees would survive a three story drop. Neither did Caleb. Credit it to adrenaline, or credit it to luck, but either way he stuck the landing without missing a beat. The four officers in their cars saw him turn the corner onto the downtown sidewalks and climbed out in pursuit.

Freeze! Police!

Caleb didn’t stop. He didn’t even glance behind him to see if he had any distance between them. He could tell by the volume of their voice that he had a significant lead on his assailants.

Excuse me! Move! Sorry!

Caleb pushed onlookers and pedestrians out of his way, swinging them behind him and into the path of his assailants. Streetlights and cars raced by as he fled down the long sidewalk cutting through town. Couples taking advantage of the cool weather and the clear night jumped to the sides and into each other’s arms. The bright neon colors of a Friday night in Brayton blurred together in his tunnel vision eyes. The doors to Ducky’s bar swung open, bounced off of the wall, and slammed into his shoulder as he tripped into the building.

Sorry Ma’am.

Caleb bulldozed a young lady leaving the place and sprinted out of the back door. The city of Brayton, California was Caleb’s house and the alleys were his hallways. He had grown up on the streets, running away from home at the age of twelve, and he had memorized every nook. Nobody knew the streets of Brayton as well as Caleb. Not even the pesky Badges that chased him through Ducky’s, and into the dark alley behind the building. He knew he had a good lead on them from the start. He had enough time to knock twice, hesitate for three seconds, and then knock twice again on the door to Ducky’s casino. A man the size of a Cadillac Escalade opened it slightly and yanked him into the doorway. Then the mountain of a man pushed him through the next set of doors quickly and slammed it shut.

Caleb slipped in unnoticed and watched on a small black and white television as the officers traced the walls with their flashlights. He knew they couldn’t hear him through the bricks and drywall. If they couldn’t hear the sounds of a live jazz band or the screams of overzealous degenerates losing their money, they couldn’t hear his breathing. He knew they couldn’t see the door either. The alley had a blind spot due to the shadows just like the bank. The door was completely hidden to the untrained eye. Still Caleb held his breath while they scanned the corners of the alley. He watched until his exhausted legs began to give out on him, and he slid to the floor with his back against the door as he tried to catch his breath.

Here. You thirsty?

Caleb heard the voice of a woman in front of him and looked up. He’d never been one to ignore the attention of the opposite sex. In fact, Caleb felt the most comfortable in the company of a beautiful woman. He didn’t just open his eyes dramatically either. Caleb flipped his eyelids open, his eyes practically pulling the rest of his face up, and locked in on the beautiful woman in front of him. He would have reached out his hand to introduce himself, but a sharp pain shot through his right shoulder and up the side of his neck. Caleb reached up and started massaging the unrelenting pinched nerve he’d been fighting for years and held out his left hand instead.

The tall redhead in front of him wearing a black skirt, white button up, and black bowtie was holding a glass of ice water and a cold beer. The buttons on her shirt were unfastened just below the bowtie and above her bra-line, forming an oval shaped frame around her cleavage. Caleb recognized her breasts immediately, and even remembered the shape of the butt that always accompanied them when she walked away, but he couldn’t recall her face at all. She had waited on him many times in the past as he gambled away the money he stole, but he had never cared enough to look up.

Caleb didn’t even acknowledge the beer, or the apathetic look on her face. He grabbed the glass of water and poured it down his throat like a man who had just returned from a year in the Mojave Desert, and intentionally let half of it slip off of his lip and down his chest. The cold water stung when it ran through the small, deep cut across his left peck, but it was exactly what Caleb wanted.

Would you like me to take a look at that?

The long sleeve, black shirt Caleb was wearing no longer hid the blood from his fresh wound, and the grimacing look on his face revealed everything he never wanted a woman to see. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and the pain was quickly seeping in. His left hand never left his chest, and his eyes never left hers.

What? You moonlight as a doctor too? His voice cracked, as he forced out the words in the most condescending tone.

No. I’m a doctor. I moonlight as a waitress.

He knew she had read his sarcasm and doubt loud and clear, but she hadn’t seemed to care. She still seemed uninterested.

"Well, do you want me to stitch you up, or do you want to just bleed to death?

I think I’d rather bleed to death than live with the disaster of a scar you’ll probably leave me.

What about your pants? she said.

Caleb hadn’t even noticed the playground scrape on his knee or the tear in his black dress pants, another benefit to running on loose shingles.

You’ll say anything to get me out of my clothes. Won’t you?

Caleb flashed his flirtatious smile at her, finally looking up to see her green eyes. She had tantalizing eyes that appeared to have seen criminals and drunkards collapsed on the floor many times and no longer cared to hear their stories; eyes that