The Nightmare on Trap Street
C. N. Phillips
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page Copyright Page Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 - New Mexico Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21
Urban Books, LLC
300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109
Farmingdale, NY 11735
The Nightmare on Trap Street
Copyright © 2020 C. N. Phillips
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-6455-6073-9
eISBN 13: 978-1-64556-074-6
eISBN 10: 1-64556-074-0
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
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Chapter 1
“Pull over there, by that tunnel, and let me out.”
The deep and demanding voice belonged to Cam Lewis, one of Detroit’s big-time hustlers. He sat in the back seat of his Maybach and took notice of a black Mercedes already parked. He wasn’t surprised, being as he was there to meet someone. However, that didn’t mean he was happy to see the vehicle. Cam grabbed a duffle bag that was on the seat next to him and placed it on his lap. He unzipped it, and his eyes were instantly met with the green contents inside—$250,000, a payment that he owed and wasn’t happy to be parting with. The vein protruding from his right temple showed that. Before blessing the ground with the Ferragamo loafers on his feet, he pulled a flip phone from his pocket and dialed a number.
“Hello?” Cam’s young soldier Dwayne answered with a gruff voice.
“I’m here,” Cam said.
“We see you.”
“Everybody in position?”
“Yup. Whoever is in that tunnel won’t be making it out of here alive, boss.”
“Be sure of it,” Cam instructed icily. “If everything goes as planned, you won’t just be leaving here with some extra money in your pocket, but you’ll have a new Mercedes, too.”
He flipped the phone closed and cleared his throat. He looked up at Felix, his driver for the past five years, and nodded before putting the duffle bag strap on his shoulder. Felix got out and went around to open Cam’s door. He stepped out and smoothed the jacket of his gray suit.
“I’ll wait here,” the older man said and tipped his hat.
“I shouldn’t be long,” Cam told him and started walking toward the tunnel’s entrance.
They were in a construction zone. However, it had rained that summer day, and all of the workers had gone home, leaving behind all of the machinery and half-dug holes. Although it was midday, the sun was battling against the clouds to peek through.
The meeting for payment had been in motion for a few days, but the location was switched last minute. However, that didn’t put an end to Cam’s plan to not have to pay a dime. See, not only was he tired of having to go through a middleman to get his product, but he was tired of having his title on the streets capped at “lieutenant.” He wasn’t anyone’s lieutenant. He was the boss, and it was time that Detroit knew that. Everyone knew that The Last Kings ruled over Detroit, but every reign came to an end sometime.
Some years back—when Khiron, a cat from Atlanta, had overthrown The Last Kings and taken over business in Detroit—Cam was much happier. He was given control over three territories and was eating good. However, when Khiron was killed and The Last Kings regained power over the streets, business went back to how it was before Khiron took over. Cam went back to his one territory. And that meant less money. The goal was for everybody to have a way to eat, but Cam couldn’t be worried about the next mouth when his plate wasn’t filled up. Growing up as the block’s “brown-skinned pretty boy,” Cam had grown accustomed to getting what he wanted. All he had to do was flash his perfectly straight teeth and follow that with some smooth talking. Now things were different. He had to take what he wanted.
Cam cleared his throat when he stepped into the shadows inside the tunnel. It was dim, but he could still clearly make out everything around him, like the woman in a form-fitting pantsuit and Christian Louboutin heels leaning against the cement wall, filing her nails.
“You’re late,” she said without looking up from what she was doing.
“My apologies, Sadie,” Cam said, addressing the head of The Last Kings. “The change of location threw me off.”
“Don’t worry about it. Do you have my money?”
“Right here,” he said and tossed the bag to her feet. “No need to count it. It’s all there.”
Sadie finished with her nails and placed the file inside of her Birkin crossbody bag. She glanced briskly down at the bag of money and didn’t bother to check it. Instead, she stepped around it and walked toward Cam. He couldn’t read the expression on her beautiful face, but still he held his ground.