Snared

By Mona Jean Reed

After they kidnapped Roz and ten other beautiful blondes, their captors expected them to knuckle under and not fight taking part in "Cap's finishing school." They intended to make all eleven girls the ultimate cream of harem material. These exceptional harem slaves would bring a half mill apiece, just like last year's crop. Can Roz hold up or will they break her spirit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9781613091609

Book preview

Dedication

To Mike and Margaret Reed who provided a place for me when I broke my leg and was pretty much helpless

One

Monday July 10, 6:35 A.M.

Near the University of Oklahoma, Norman OK

Rozelle Roz Duncan left her dad’s house in Goldsby with plenty of time, for a change.

At the Norman exit closest to OU, she turned off I-35. Four blocks later, an old green Ford pulled in line behind her. She’d seen that car and its grinning driver often in the last week. Had to be the same man; two different men couldn’t have that same leer. There couldn’t be two old Fords with identical bashed left front fenders.

Just coincidence...Sure...This is a bunch of coincidences, that’s all.

Roz glanced at her watch. Coach said to be at the track at seven and she would be.

Again, she glanced at that green Ford.

This is a safe place; that can’t be a dangerous person...Face it, real life is a novel with the excitement left out. Except for tornadoes, and a wildfire once in a while, scary things don’t happen in Oklahoma—not here in Norman anyway.

That green jalopy stayed behind her, but mostly not that close.

"I’m not going to worry...Not going to think about it.

She parked her little gas miser in the commuter parking lot and began the long walk east to the stadium track.

Plenty of time. I’ll just walk. For a change, I can enjoy the last of the sunrise and take two breaths without hurrying...maybe three.

But then, Julie, her friend and rival in the javelin and in all the sprints passed her.

Come on, Julie said over her shoulder. Why you wearing track shoes if you’re not goin’ to run?

Roz hitched up her back-pack so it sat easier on her shoulders and took off.

What’s with the guy in that old green wreck? Julie asked. I saw him followin’ you yesterday.

I keep telling myself it’s coincidence. But...all week?

He’s got to be at least thirty. You don’t suppose... Julie chewed on her lower lip.

Suppose what?

Could that be a stalker?

I’ll admit, he gives me the creeps. But who’s going to mess with me? I’m anything but a pushover.

"You can lift seventy-five pounds easy, and you took that self-defense course last year. Did you know my boyfriend’s still mad at you?

Whatever for?

You tossed him like a ten year old and he’s almost a black belt.

There, see? I’m as safe as I’m going to get—as anybody is, Roz said. "Besides, since I’ll do as much as I can, God will handle anything I can’t.

Julie squinted. But...

But what?

First, you’ve done all your tossin’ in a gym. Might be different if you were doing it for real. Like in an alley or on one of your hikes. Something like that could be harder...and..." Julie frowned as if trying to find a way to get her point across.

And...

Big thing is you’re not allowing for the stupid factor. What about bottom feeders that don’t know you and don’t think, period. Bein’ dumb might not keep ‘em from bein’ cagey.

Roz laughed. Julie, you’re driving me squirrely...‘be careful about this,’ ‘caution about that,’ and...

Anyway, if it was me, I’d keep an eye out for Mr. Greenwreck. I get the willies just lookin’ at his grinnin’ face through the windshield.

The pair reached the track and joined the rest of the team. As ordered by Coach Warner, the team did multiple sets of sprints.

At eight-thirty, Coach stopped them. Temp’s already eighty-nine, he said. Won’t have you getting sunstroke on my watch.

The usual murmurs followed.

We’ll meet Wednesday, same time.

He dismissed them and strode into one of the stadium’s tunnels.

Julie kept pace with Roz as they walked to the locker room.

Pruitt’s giving another test today, Roz said. You suppose some teachers get a buzz out of grading tests?

Ecology and Environmental Impact as prophesied and decoded by the illustrious Alvin Gustave Pruitt. Julie said. I had him for Genetics last year. He’s horrible.

I’m not worried. Unpleasant teacher or not, I know that material forwards and back. I’ll have another perfect test.

Not good to brag. Bad things happen to braggers.

Roz giggled. I’m not bragging, just telling the truth.

In the shower, Roz went over her mental to-do list. Take the test, then to comparative anatomy, be sure to eat my power bar. I did put one in my backpack, didn’t I? After that, a couple of hours’ work in the freshman tutor lab. On the way home, I have to buy groceries.

After I put the groceries away, I’ll study, start chili mac for supper, study, maybe talk with Dad about our camping trip next month or read another chapter in that novel, finish cooking supper, eat. Get (Make) Bobby do the dishes. Maybe basketball with him afterward? Study, go to bed.

Up at five and start over. Boring or not, I should be grateful; lots of people have worse lives.

Thank you, Jesus.

She dressed, gathered her stuff and marched into the already toasty day headed for Pruitt’s classroom.

Jeff, the brainless wonder who kept trying to copy her test answers when they had taken statistics the previous spring, leaned against one of the oaks. A girl Roz didn’t know walked up to him and they said a few words. Jeff took her two books and they ambled off together.

Roz felt that feeling again, a sort of pain, but not pain...longing maybe. For what?

Not for a permanent adolescent like Jeff, that’s for sure.

"Lord, I want something. But there’s no way I’m going to get it.

Am I doing something wrong? Other people have fun, why can’t I? Of course, I’ve never found their fun very enjoyable. Still...

All my life, am I going to be nothing more than the obedient daughter and the big sister who plays mommy for her little brother? I want Dad and Bobby to be happy...

But that wasn’t the problem.

"Okay, Jesus, You want me to say it, in words. Dad’s got my life all planned out. He says the oil industry is going to need people trained, really trained, in environmental safety. It doesn’t take a prophet to know he’s got their needs exactly right. I’m doing the best I know how to follow his lead because I know he wants the best for me. This way I’ll make a good living and I’ll be an important cog in the business wheel from my first day of real work.

But it’s not what I really want. You know what I want. Enough courage to live the adventure filled life I keep reading about. Looks like the closest I’ll ever get is reading more novels, but I’m getting sick of reading about someone else’s adventures. An exciting life is what I really, really want. ‘Course, I’ve got this problem...I have a yellow streak down my backbone that won’t go away no matter what I do, but...

She looked at her watch and ran. She had a whole forty seconds to reach Pruitt’s classroom. He’d been known to lock the door at three seconds after class officially began, especially on test days.

I trust You, Jesus. You know what I want and You know what’s best, even if I don’t.

Two

Al’s beat-up green Ford hunkered behind the glossy Jaguar convertible with its black top up. The Jag’s a/c ran full blast while Carl and Al watched the slender blonde. She disappeared into the old building that passed for a supermarket in Goldsby, Oklahoma.

You got lotsa of choices, Carl’s sandpaper voice growled. You know what time she goes to all her classes, where her classes are and where she practices for track meets. Now you even know where she buys groceries. You can follow her home and see where she lives if you want.

In the passenger seat, Al scratched under his right arm. Yeah, he sighed as if enjoying a private vision. A blind man could get off on that.

After a last drag on his cigarette, Al pushed the button down on the window and flipped out the three-quarter-inch butt.

I don’t think this one will give you any more trouble than the other one, Carl said. To make sure you have time for both, I strongly suggest that you get her soonest.

Yeah, Al rested his left calf on his right knee and jiggled his left foot up and down. The sole of his boot rubbed against the door panel and the gray velour carried a rust-brown stain.

Carl raked his fingers through his red hair. "I grew up in that arm-pit of the world, Cairo in Egypt.

Yeah, you told me.

"Twenty three years ago, when I was nine, my artist mom died. Probably she’d have lived just fine if she’d stayed in the States. But no, she had an ‘affinity’ with the pyramids. And my spineless dad helped her get to Egypt. We lived like natives in a native hut, the whole time.

"Her dying didn’t bother me; actually, I was glad. My dad disappeared six months later and that only bothered me a little.

What bothered me was that I had to do the rest of my growing up scratching and begging on the streets of Cairo.

Yeah? Al said. His idiot grin said he expected Carl to say something that would solve the world’s problems, all of them.

Twenty years I been fighting my way up. The veins at Carl’s temples squirmed like twin snakes under his skin. Blood pressure...relax...

Al said nothing. He just sat and smirked. His dirty boot didn’t move.

Get your foot off my door! Carl roared. Even if you’re too stupid to get your own, you can take care of other people’s things.

Al jumped. Sorry. He put both feet flat on the floor.

Carl drew a deep breath and tried to pull himself together.

In my last course, they told me that those in charge shouldn’t rant and scream at their people.

Yeah?

I’m yelling at you, because what we do is important to my...our careers. You mess up, it hurts me. Getting hurt makes me mad.

You passed all the tests and you gonna be Captain Carl right away, ain’tcha? Who they gonna get to take charge of all we been doing?

Pay attention. When people screw up, the leader gets blamed; sometimes he gets fired.

We does things real good. Nobody firin’ you or I.

Carl purposefully squeezed his eyes down in a well-practiced threat look. Of course, our boss does more than fire people.

Yeah. Al nodded. That’s why I been right careful.

I’m not going to yell, I’m not going to curse, Carl said. I want you to do this good. You don’t know how much I want this done right. Okay?

Al nodded. Oh, yeah, I knows.

In a mommy’s mild voice that cost him at least another twenty points over ten of rising blood pressure, said, Find a place where you won’t be seen and use that chloroform stuff I gave you.

I knows that. I already done it, let’s see, nine, no ten times. Al paused, and looked at Carl like a customer deciding which steak to buy, then he said, I was thinkin,’ now I got experience, maybe I could do what you been doing. Maybe?

They’ve got your description from people who saw you take two of the gals and the reward on another gal would pay this county’s taxes for a month, Carl snarled, This time be sure nobody sees you.

Wayll sure, I knows that.

I mean it. You have to make sure no one can say when or from where you took her.

Al’s grin grew bigger. ’Course.

I’m not fooling.

Al looked at him like a puppy ready for a treat. You gets to be captain, does I get your job?

My job has nothing to do with you. Pay attention.

Sure. Al still grinned.

For a little, I’d tell you to forget the whole thing. But I can’t. Mr. Carnelli said I had to use you.

An even bigger grin lit Al’s pockmarked face. Yeah? He said I was that good? I always knew he was an all right guy.

When she’s out cold, dump her in your trunk, beat it out of town and put her in the hole.

Sure, I knows that, Al said. Been doin’ it steady-like for a year and a half now. Don’t have to tell me ever little thang.

Then and only then go get that other brat; Carl said. I know she won’t be any trouble. But make sure no one sees you do it.

Skinny thang like this one be easy to snatch from outside a bar or a nightclub, Al said.

Don’t even think of trying to take both at once. Just get each of them in the hole.

Yeah, I knows that.

Carl paused. That means one at a time. All you gotta do until I call you.

Al used his thumbnail to remove something from between his lower left bicuspid and molar. I knows that, he mumbled, inspected his prize and sucked it off his thumb.

And when you get back to your motel, use the shower. That way she won’t smell you coming.

Al didn’t react to Carl’s complaint. Instead, he frowned and said, Now I think on it. That stuck-up little lady, she don’t look like the type that goes out much. Can’t get her without bein’ seen if she don’t go nowhere at night.

Carl held his shoulders and arms rigid to keep from strangling the idiot. Unless you see another blonde that hot in this god-forsaken hamlet, which you won’t, you get her.

But...

If you have to break into her bedroom, I want that one and I want her and the other one in the hole in the next three days. Got it?

Al opened the door. I knows what to do. He unfolded his six foot four frame. I gets it done. Then he shambled to the beat-up green Ford.

Stupe, Carl muttered and took off.

A block away, the last traffic light in Goldsby turned red. Carl stopped, pushed the window’s button down and spat. When the light turned green, his thunder wagon roared out of town as if relieved to remove itself from this pest hole.

That girl looks just like Mom. Mom died, why hasn’t she?

He hadn’t wanted this kidnapping thing, none of it. He’d found what he really wanted a few years ago.

For the first time in his life, he’d been happy. He had a sweet little yacht and no worries when he lived there. He even slept well when on the water away from everyone.

Only problem, he had to take trash out of Gregorio Carnelli’s life; he didn’t have a choice. Gregorio told him what he was going to do and he better do it. He had no more choice than a slave. Would he ever find an escape?

By the time he reached Pauls Valley, Carl’s grip on his steering wheel mirrored the grip he’d like to put on the neck of the fat ape he’d sold himself to.

No way out. He could do what he’d been told or Gregorio wouldn’t let Mirabet marry him. What’s more, he’d tell someone to get rid of him. Carl knew how it went. He’d taken out too many not to know his own danger.

Time. Time takes care of things. Just be patient. Give time a chance to work. He didn’t know how many times he’d given himself that advice. He did know it was good advice and he said it again.

Time...

When he reached the I-35/I-45 interchange in Dallas and headed down I-45 toward Houston he felt more positive and called his friend George.

You should of told me my ugly twin lives there, George said.

Aww, just ignore him. Cap keeps James to clean up his quarters, bring his meals, be his own personal butler. He almost never plays at being a seaman. Closest he comes is he takes care of our blondes some.

I don’t like it.

Cap bought James’ debt; kept some people from killing him. Your bro owes Cap lotsa money. In fifty-sixty years, James will drop dead and he’ll still be the personal slave of that louse. Never get that debt paid. Cap’s gonna see he don’t.

I almost left my signing bonus and walked off.

James...that’s a little thing. You gotta see the big picture. Want you to have some seaman experience. I’ll need experienced men I can trust pretty soon.

Maybe ropes and salt water won’t fit my hand.

I’ll own a quarter interest in a cargo ship soon and be its captain, clean and legal.

No more uh...

Right, no more takin’ out trash.

Been a sore on your rear, ain’t it?

This trip will be my last as mate. Maybe you should think about being first mate someday. Pay’s decent. Gives you lots of, uh, unhindered, unlicensed opportunities. Guarantee the pay on that’s better than decent.

Just so long as this is the only voyage I take with James.

Guarantee it.

You gonna guarantee I don’t kill him?

I’ll keep you from killing your prissy twin...if I can.

You swear?

I swear, if I know about it and if I’m able, you ain’t gonna break your mama’s heart by killing James.

You guarantee he don’t follow me onto your boat.

If I’m captain, he’s not going to be on my boat.

Carl disconnected. How could a con-man like George be a good friend? But he had to admit, as friends go, George had been good.

Three

Her arms loaded with bags of groceries, Roz opened the front door to her dad’s house. She paused and looked over her shoulder.

Sure enough, that beat up green Ford pulled up at the corner. It had to be her imagination but that wreck looked more than ever like a mechanized buzzard. Even in this heat, her skin grew goosebumps. Wasn’t it enough for that guy to trail her on campus, now he had to know where she lived?

Or maybe not. There’s got to be lots of green Fords with bashed fenders and primer spots. She shook her head.

Fenders, shmenders. Her problem wasn’t being stalked. No, she’d