Everyone having sex is at least 18. This story is a work of fiction. I made it all up. Check reality at the door and enjoy it for what it is. Special thanks to goducks111 for his help and making this a better story. This is part 1 of 2.
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Chapter 1 -- Caught
I wake up to someone nudging me. I hear the safety being released on several firearms. My family found me. FUCK! I have been avoiding them for years.
A deep, steady voice says to me, "Ken, take it easy there. No sudden movements. My teammates are each as good as you are. Your sister paid us huge money to bring you back alive. I can break every bone of your body and disfigure every square inch of skin; you just need to be alive. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Which do you prefer?"
It must have been the truck repairs. The VIN didn't show up, and they figured it was me somehow. I am a retired (too old) CIA assassin. I was the best they had. I was ruthless and an expert in just about everything. It would take a group to get me. They must be outstanding for me not to hear them come into my motel room.
When I was younger and cocky, I would have tried to take them out. I have slowed down and gotten a bit smarter in my "old" age. I hate my family, but they won't kill me.
I open my eyes and see six men in full combat suits. Four have pistols, and two have Uzi's, a very dangerous weapon in such a small room. They throw a lot of lead for such a small weapon. They all look scared; their fingers are sweaty and quivering on the triggers.
I use my deep and silky-smooth voice, "I promise to go with you. I'll assist if necessary until I am sitting in the living room of the house my sister is living in or seven days have elapsed."
Most of them ease up. Only the boss doesn't.
The boss screams, "Hold!" All guns are on me again. "AND I will not try to escape, AND I will do everything in my power to get back to my sister's living room."
My trademark within the CIA is that I was an honorable man. I had a stint with the Marines, and they taught me a lot. The honor part stayed with me forever. It sure made for a rough life. Try being an assassin and honorable at the same time.
I snicker and say, "I will not try to escape, and I will do everything I can to assist you in getting me back to my sister's living room. I give you my word." I don't see that I really have a choice.
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24 hours later:
I am in the back of a black Suburban that has been heavily modified, a man on each side of me. The vehicle has bulletproof glass and a supercharged motor. I would bet anything that the doors are enhanced to stop launched weapons as well.
We are pulling up to a series of buildings on a large, gated property outside of town. It has a ten-car garage, a huge three-story mansion, a pool, tennis court, basketball court, volleyball court, and what looks like a nine-hole putting green.
One of the guys tells me, "Bowling, racquetball, and ping pong are in the basement. Inside the garage is a large car collection of old restored muscle cars and a few that are much older. Of those, two are show quality, and two are resto-mods (old body but new engine, suspension, power steering, power breaks, air conditioning, and of course, an FM radio)."
They sure know the stuff that I like. This can't all be here to lure me.
A few minutes later, we are in front of the house, and we walk into what looks like an empty home. I stand in front of the couch. All guns are on me again, I sit down. A few more men come in; one asks for my drink order. I ask for a Manhattan.
Finally, my sister Laura shows up with my mother and father behind her, one on each side. All three of them look to be dressed up for a night club. Dad has a tuxedo on, mom is in a long slinky dress, while Laura is in a knee-length satin black dress with a pushup bra. The bra is pushing out, which is odd because her tits are already huge and press out naturally.
Mom and dad sit down in a loveseat that Laura points to. She is eyeing me head to toe. I am in shorts, a raggedy t-shirt, my hair is too long, and I am dirty from living in the forest.
Laura starts the charade, "Welcome home, Ken. It's been ten years since I last saw you. The military let you go so that you could join the CIA. You didn't accept my offer back then. This time it will be an offer you can't refuse. I really need your help. I'm motivated, and you are exactly what I need.
I laugh at her. Her smile is gone.
Laura says in a chilling voice, "Mother. Get up and step forward. On your knees. Close your eyes. Hands behind your back." Mom did all those things. "Paul, if my brother moves a muscle, put a bullet in my mother's skull." I am frozen stiff. "Have I got your attention now?" I don't respond.
Laura continues, "If you don't agree to help me, my guards will kill mom, dad, and then me. You inherit everything. That's how bad I need you."
I relent, "I'll listen to your pitch, I give you my word." I don't trust my sister or my parents. They are despicable people while I am a man of honor. Well, as much honor as a killer can have.
Laura is happy to get my word. She saunters over to me and sits so close to me that we are touching. She is trembling, which is very much out of character for her. Mom and dad are calm with a look of relief on their faces.
Laura says to me, "I'm sure that you know dad runs the strip clubs and mom runs the brothels. I run both the male and female escort services. Every pro athlete and rich person in the area uses me or have used my services at one time or another. My bachelor and bachelorette parties are legendary. Profits are soaring, we are winning. However, ... someone is killing our employees." I see it now; I know why she wants me.
"Word is getting around that I can't protect my people. I can't go to the Police; they are ignoring my situation because the victims are my own people. Anything that hurts me makes them happy. My people can't stop them. I brought in experts, and they were killed as well. Any customer that we had a picture of also turns up dead within days. We are stuck."
Now she plays dirty.
Laura seems sad now as she says with a trembling lower lip, "I gave a lot of your old friends and girlfriends jobs, to help them out. Maggie Jenkins, Jan O'Neil, Marty Sorento, Juan Lopez, to name just a few. They are all dead. Some of my friends are dead, as well. We haven't seen a pattern so far. I can tell you it's getting hard to hire new people."
"I know you hate our businesses. I know you hate me. I know you hate that I retrieved you from the Rocky Mountains. I get it. However, I see the faces, like Maggie, at night still." She sniffles. "They need to be avenged. The person or group must be stopped. I have tried everything. You're my last hope. If you don't agree to help us, my people will kill mom first, followed by dad and then me. I know you will at least care for our bodies rather than the gruesome things that are being done to my people. I can't even look at the photographs, it's too disturbing."
That last line is something that struck me deep, this immediately became a whole lot more interesting. During my last two years in Army Intelligence, we saw killings as she described. We assumed it was American led because it never targeted our people.
I am short with my answer, "I want a bedroom, a large room for my office, a computer, a printer, a copier, six large whiteboards like a teacher would use. I want everything, every file, recording and pictures of the customers and the victims. I want a car, access to a jet 24x7, a credit card, and internet access. Any questions or problems? .... No? ...... Then get going."
Laura stops me, "In the garage, each car has a set of keys in the visor. Take whatever you want. Tonight, Ritz Carlton, room 2200, you begin your training. Alice is your trainer and will teach you how to be a male escort. You need a cover, or they will know what you are immediately. Alice is a female escort and does our male training. Buy some clothes for your new position."
Laura then surprises the hell out of me by reaching out and hugging me. We always hated each other. Ha, ha, that won't help. I only want to stop the group of killers that I never caught before. This is unfinished business. Your female games have no effect on me, I don't return the hug.
I step back and say to my sister, "I don't give a damn about you, your businesses, or your parents. You are all morally corrupt. I'll stop the killing; I give you my word."
If this is the same group, I want to stop them. I hate evil. Back ten years ago, we thought they had four to six members. The things they did to their victims, I won't describe, they were that sick, twisted, and gruesome. These people have no business in society. That is how I can be an assassin. You show me someone that is truly evil and a menace to society, and I will take them out for the greater good.
All the men with guns leave. Mom wants to say something, but dad and Linda use hand signals to stop her. I have no time for her, I need some clothes. I go out to the garage and find a ... damn.
The garage is loaded with fully restored muscle cars. The garage is far deeper than I thought. They have at least two each of everything, Camaro, Trans Am, Mustang, Corvette, Hellcat, and cars going back to the '60s. There are probably 80 cars stashed tightly into the garage. Three cars are easy to get out of the garage. A new Porsche 911, a stylish black Suburban, and 1978 black and gold Trans Am.