Hope is Never Lost

Hope is Never Lost

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Summary

The love of a man's life is kidnapped and sold into slavery. Searching for her the conventional ways leads to nothing.

The man, an ex private detective who recently inherited a brothel in Nevada, must now resort to unconventional methods. He locates the best psychic he can find, a beautiful woman.

Their pursuit takes them halfway around the world. However, a problem arises. The two become hopelessly attracted to one another. And the psychic enjoys being spanked, among other things.

Summary

The love of a man's life is kidnapped and sold into slavery. Searching for her the conventional ways leads to nothing.

The man, an ex private detective who recently inherited a brothel in Nevada, must now resort to unconventional methods. He locates the best psychic he can find, a beautiful woman.

Their pursuit takes them halfway around the world. However, a problem arises. The two become hopelessly attracted to one another. And the psychic enjoys being spanked, among other things.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Trail into Terror

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 10, 2017

Reads: 1522

Comments: 3

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 10, 2017

A A A

A A A

Chapter 1- Trail Into Terror

 

I still recall the time I was in the dark, crouching next to a trailer in an abandoned quarry, listening very closely for a sound I was about 99% sure I would hear.

I found myself in this situation as I had to go into private practice as a detective, gumshoe, snoop, whatever you want to call it. It was somewhat of a hard pill to swallow after eighteen years as a special agent in the FBI. 

To hear my story, one may think there is absolutely no justice in this world. I cannot say that is true. Forthwith, I will say, due to massive changes in the way so many now view things and the way so many think as compared to a few decades ago, the incidents which lead one to think this way have dramatically increased over time.

In my final days with the bureau, I had been trailing one of the world's worst known terrorists. Called himself The Scorpion.

He had risen throught the ranks in ISIS, and now was in charge of operations within the US.

Our technology had broke through the communication masking they used, and we knew, from all the activity a catastrophic strike was going to happen soon in New York. We just did not know exactly where and what the appointed time was. We had still not been able to break all of their codes.

I stood across the street and watched The Scorpion climb the stairs of a brownstone building. Right before he reached the top, I knew he was going to turn around and see if anyone was watching. That is why I had chosen a newstand to stand next to. I grabbed a paper and thumbed through it right before he did so.

A few seconds later, I slowly raised my eyes to see that several other men were following him inside the building.

I ran into this clothes store in back of me and into a dressing room.Then I took my cell out and called base. Other agents then met me in the store about ten minutes later.

Sortly thereafter, looking as unsuspicsious as possible, we slowly filed into the brownstone. All of us were in plain clothes, not wanting to draw attention. We spilt up and walked down both sides of the hall, pausing and listening at each door.

On my fourth one on the first floor (where I figured they would be in case they had to make a quick gettaway) I heard the low deep voices in a particular accent. Bingo.

I raised my hand and looked around, whispering to the others of my find. We all filed out the back way and into an alley, out of sight.

We called base, who then coordinated with the locals. In about ten minutes, both FBI and NYC SWAT had surrounded the building. No sirens were used and no helicopters came into play. Not just yet.

After our group had briefed the two SWAT commanders, all of us silently snuck in through the back. FBI SWAT lead the way. Then there was the locals and then us. Some stayed outside, covering the room's window.

A small elderly woman came down the stairs and her mouth flew open as we all stalked by her. I smiled as gently as I could and raised a finger to my lips. She quitely rushed out the back.

We had a warrant, and proper protocol required thet we knock on the door and announce who we were. But why tip them off? During the meeting outside we all agreed to keep quiet,but if asked, we did the proper thing.

SWAT then  broke down the door with their iron rammer. 

Unfortunately there were a couple of baddies with weapons trained on the doorway. An AK 47 started blazing. At the same time, smoke grenades were thrown into the hall and the others drew their weapons and started firing Some of our guys went down.

The Scorpion had two grenades, unbeknownst to us. He ran out the door amongst the smoke and tossed them. He was down the hall and out the building after more of us went down.

Fortunately for me I was close to the stairwell leading to the basement. When I saw the popped grenades come out of the smoke I leapt over the railing just as they exploded. In doing so, I twisted my ankle.

What these scum did not think about was how we had the place surrounded. A sizeable gun battle took place in the street and in the back, where some had tried to make it out the window.

All the terrorists went down. An FBI SWAT agent recognized The Scorpion in an instant, and shot the weapon out of his hand. Then he shot him in both knees. The guy was the best marksman in his unit.

The Scorpion went down screaming in horrible pain. By this time I had limped out of the building and had seen what happened.

"Let me do you a favor, Scorpion!" I exclaimed. With that I heaved him up and busted the butt of my nine millimeter Glock over the back of his head. He hit the ground like a big sack of grapefruit, out like a light.

End of Chapter 1

 

 


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