Chapter 6 - The Trap Closes
The silence in the garage was deafening.
The mechanics at the front were shouting over air compressors, entirely unaware of the drama unfolding in the shadows.
Tamson gripped the small GPS tracker in her jacket pocket.
Her fingers curled around its hard plastic edges.
"You're a long way from Ridgewood," the enforcer said, his voice grating like gravel.
He stepped closer.
His boots echoed loudly on the concrete floor.
"Mr. Rallo gave you a chance to walk away last night," the man continued.
"You should have taken the train."
Tamson backed up a step until her shoulders pressed against the crushed door of her father's wrecked sedan.
"I didn't come here for a warning," Tamson said.
"I came for the truth."
The enforcer chuckled, a dry, humorless sound.
"Truth is an expensive luxury, Miss Hollis. And you can't afford the tab."
He raised the pistol slightly, leveling it at her chest.
"Put the tracker on the hood and walk toward the front door. Don't look back. If you look back, I put a bullet in your spine."
Tamson’s mind raced.
She had seconds to decide.
Comply and let them take the evidence, or run and risk a bullet.
She looked at the heavy hydraulic lift twenty feet to her left.
Above it hung a massive steel chain hoist loaded with a spare engine block.
She didn't hesitate.
She reached down, grabbed a handful of greasy floor debris, and hurled it directly into the enforcer's eyes.
"Ah, damn it!" the man cursed, flinching and blinking against the grit.
Tamson bolted.
She didn't run toward the front exit.
She scrambled underneath the hydraulic lift, her jacket snagging on a metal bolt.
She ripped herself free as a gunshot cracked through the garage.
The bullet punched a smoking hole in the concrete floor an inch from her boot.
Shouts erupted from the front mechanics.
"Hey! What the hell is going on back there?"
The enforcer cursed loudly, wiping his eyes.
"Get her!" he roared to the other workers.
Tamson leaped onto the control panel of the hydraulic lift.
She slammed her palm down on the heavy metal lever marked DOWN/UP.
With a deafening groan of strained hydraulics, the massive steel arms began to rise violently.
Directly above them, a stack of heavy metal crates tilted forward.
With a thunderous crash, three steel drums tumbled off the top shelf, tumbling directly into the path of the approaching enforcer.
The man tripped hard over the rolling drums, slamming his head against the corner of a workbench.
He slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Tamson didn't wait to see if he was breathing.
She vaulted over a low wooden barrier, scrambled through an open side fire exit, and burst out into the blinding daylight of the Brooklyn street.
Rain had stopped, leaving the asphalt steaming under gray skies.
She ran three blocks without stopping until her lungs burned like fire.
She ducked into a crowded subway station, blending seamlessly into a group of morning commuters.
Only when the train doors closed did she finally let out a ragged breath.
She reached into her pocket.
The GPS tracker was still there.
And tucked safely inside her inner jacket pocket was the photograph.
She had survived the trap.
But she knew Evander Rallo now realized the full extent of the danger.
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He knew she wasn't just a runaway maid.
He knew she was hunting him.
