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Wright & Wong
Wright & Wong
Wright & Wong
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Wright & Wong

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Yoyo the clown is bent on revenge. Stripped of his television show and toy empire, he and his gang of garish goons kidnap his rivals Buster Brontosaurus, Little Miss Missy, Captain Courage and Kiddo, and the Kick Squad. It's up to the daring detectives Wright and Wong to save the stars from certain death. Frank Wright is a martial artist who can't shoot straight or say no to the string of luscious ladies lining up to lay him. Henry Wong is his pistol-packing partner who can't fight his way out of a wet paper bag. With the aid of a mysterious blonde bombshell they must save the day while being tempted along the way by the likes of Pepper the party girl, sexy secretary, Raven Sable, ravishing reporter, Bonita Benitez, and even Frank's naughty niece, Andrea, whom Yoyo has made his unwilling sidekick.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 5, 2011
ISBN9781465926968
Wright & Wong
Author

Arthur Robeson

Arthur Robeson is a former navy brat who settled down in the south. When he's not playing the part of wage slave he's writing and loving his lady.

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    Wright & Wong - Arthur Robeson

    Wright and Wong

    Smashwords Edition

    Copyright 2011 Arthur Roberts

    License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Chapter One

    Nelson Null was a nervous wreck. A fiftyish detective with the Palmersville police, he sat in a black unmarked car with his partner, Frank Wright. Frank was the kind of guy that made the ladies swoon--tall, blonde, and square-jawed. In stark contrast to Nelson he sat in relative calm, his breathing slow and steady.

    The two detectives were staking out the rear exit of a nightclub when their quarry emerged. Two burly black bodyguards in white business suits opened the door for a longhaired, tattoo-covered rock star by the name of Ace Slick.

    With him was a cute little spike-haired pixie of a party girl dressed in a skintight tube mini dress. She was all of five feet-three inches tall in her platform sandals.

    Ace pointed at his stretch limousine parked not far away. See? What’d I tell you?

    The party girl’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Wow! It’s great!

    The rocker began to rant. Ace Slick is all washed up, they say. His latest album is shit. Well, fuck ‘em! Fuck ‘em all! I still got money. I still travel in style. With his hand on the party girl’s ass, he guided her in the direction of his ride. What do you say we get in so we can get the real party started?

    The party girl beamed at the thought of getting nailed by a celebrity--even if she’d never heard of him. Hopefully, one of her girlfriends would and get jealous when she mentioned her tawdry little tryst the next day. All right! Let’s do it!

    Frank Wright tried keeping his naturally thunderous voice to a low rumble. That’s him. Let’s go.

    His less eager partner grabbed him by his coat sleeve. Hold on there, Frank. We’re waiting on backup.

    But he’ll get away!

    No, they won’t. It looks like they’re up to something, the way those guards are standing around, drugs maybe. And if they try to drive away you can cut them off with the car.

    The blond detective crossed his arms and sulked.

    Ace got into his car and pulled down his tattered jeans. He pointed at the party girl’s tiny tube dress as she dove onto him. Get that damn thing off!

    His bodyguards obeyed and pulled the item down her trim body and over her feet, knocking off her small sandals in the process.

    Nelson Null noticed the dinky dress being placed on the roof of the limousine. "So that's what they’re up to!"

    Frank was flustered now. And we’re just going to sit here and do nothing?

    Nelson picked up the police radio microphone. No, we’re not just going to sit here. I’m going to call for backup again while that little slut bides us some time.

    Back in the limousine, Ace noticed both his bodyguard’s massaging the swollen meat under their white dress pants. He felt pity for them and thought of how hot it would be to watch some barely legal little white trash whore get herself tunneled out by a couple of black cocks just like in a porno. Why don’t you jerks join in?

    The limousine sunk on its shocks as one burly bodyguard hopped in. What little common sense the party girl had warned her to beg out of the threesome and head home, but she ignored it as usual.

    Frank Wright waited as long as he could stand to then exited his unmarked car. I’m going, he said.

    Nelson was still in no hurry. But our backup hasn’t arrived yet.

    Aw, that could take forever.

    Yeah, I know. Why’d you have to go and rat Dent out to the I.A.D anyway? It’s been nothing but hell for us ever since you did.

    Unlike others who’d known of the disgraced detective’s improprieties and said nothing, Frank couldn’t stand idly by while the badge was being tarnished. He was dirty and you know it.

    Yeah, but--

    "But nothing!"

    Nelson made a last desperate call for help on the police radio as Frank got out of the car. Look, is anyone out there? We need help now!

    Another couple of Palmersville detectives--Ashe and Holtz--was partaking of a little late night snack outside a Darn Good Donuts store when Nelson's call came in.

    Despite his mouth being full of lemon-filled delight Ashe said, Nelson sounds desperate. Maybe we should--

    Holtz spit crumbs as he spoke. Not until I finish my donut.

    Ace and his bodyguards put their packages back in their pants and got out of the limousine. The rock star picked the party girl’s tube dress off the top of the car. All right, you little whore. Get dressed and blow. I’ve got to go home and get some shuteye.

    He wasn't going anywhere. Out of the shadows shot a black Crown Victoria that slid to a sideways stop in front of the limo.

    A voice boomed through the alleyway. Ace Slick, you are under arrest for the murder of your former agent--

    The rock star dropped the party girl’s dress. He was at least a little drunk, but he still saw that the cop held a badge but no gun. He bitched at his bodyguards. What the hell are you two waiting for? Shoot him!

    Frank dove over the hood of his car and ducked behind its engine as the bodyguards pulled their guns.

    Nelson spilled out of his side of the car to join him amidst a hail of bullets. Damn it, Deadeye! You should’ve had your gun out! Then maybe they wouldn’t have gotten the drop on us!

    Frank firmly believed that he shouldn’t need to pull a gun to get respect when he had the authority of the shield behind him. The badge should’ve been enough.

    Nelson was less idealistic. Yeah, well it rarely is enough these days. And now you’re going to get us both killed with your crazy notions.

    Frank finally pulled his gun at about the same time that a bullet ricocheted under the car. His muscles tightened, including those that went to his trigger finger, and he accidentally fired--into Nelson’s leg!

    Nelson’s mouth hung open in shock. Hell Frank! You shot me!

    Jeez Nelson. I’m--

    The bemused bodyguards stood over the detectives. Would you look at that? one asked the other. He put a cap in his own partner!

    The other laughed. Yeah.

    Go ahead, Frank told them in a taunting tone. Go ahead and shoot us with your little toys. You couldn’t take us without them anyway.

    They were huge, these fellows. We don’t need no guns to erase you, one said.

    Yeah, the other agreed.

    Prove it.

    Nelson’s eyes flew wide as his peculiar partner slid his gun under the car. Frank! What are you doing?

    Prove it!

    The bodyguards nodded to each other and put their guns back in their holsters. They dragged Frank out from behind his car.

    Ace was livid. What the hell are you doing? Kill them and let’s blow!

    You heard him, the first bodyguard said. He beggin' for a beat down.

    He grabbed Frank by the collar, lifted him high into the air and found out the hard way why the detective had been so hell-bent on fighting. Frank popped the bodyguard’s eardrums with his open palms and when he was let go, kicked him squarely between the legs. A quick snap kick to his opponent’s contorted face finished him off.

    The second bodyguard rushed forth like a bull. Frank played matador by stepping aside and helping him dive headfirst through the limo's darkened window. The party girl screamed and shielded her eyes as broken glass rained in on her.

    Ace tried to run, but his long hair proved his undoing. He stopped dead in his tracks and cried in pain as his mane threatened to come loose by the roots. You win! I give up!

    Nelson removed his jacket and used it as a compress on his leaking leg. So do I!

    Frank looked down at him. What?

    I give up. Find yourself another partner. Shooting me was the last straw.

    Detective Holtz arrived just in time to hear the good news. Way to go, Deadeye. You just went through another partner.

    Deadeye! Frank couldn’t stand that name. It’d been attributed to him given his lack of skill and desire to even use a gun. Being almost as strong as the pumped up bodyguards he’d just beaten, he grabbed Holtz with his free arm and piled him onto the limo’s hood. Ace screamed in agony, for Frank hadn’t let go of his hair and was dragging him along behind.

    Frank pointed at his tardy taunter. "And where were you, staking out Darn Good Donuts again?"

    Before Holtz could answer, the raspy voice of the portly police chief, Hardesty, rang out, bouncing off the alleyway walls. What’s going on here? I was on my way home when I heard Nelson on the horn asking for backup.

    Holtz informed the chief. Serpico here shot his own partner in the leg.

    It was more than Frank could take. He released Ace’s hair and drew back a menacing fist. He fully intended to do some face flattening, but Holtz saved him the trouble. The sight of Frank’s gnarly knuckles aimed at him made him faint in fear. His head dropped and banged on the hood of the car.

    Hardesty sighed and shook his head. What am I going to do with you, Frank?

    Before the detective could reply, he was interrupted by a diminutive voice coming from inside the limousine. Excuse me. Could someone, um, hand me my clothes?

    Frank obliged. While he was careful to avert his eyes, the party girl gawked at him. He looked to her like a cover model for a romance model, minus the long, wavy hair of, course. She squirmed into her mini dress and shook glass particles from her spiked hair. After hopping out of the car and putting her platform sandals on her tiny feet, she wobbled over to Frank, for her heels were high and her little legs were weak from hard sex. She latched onto his waist for support and smiled up at him. You’re my hero!

    Ace overheard while being escorted to a squad car. Hero? She didn’t need saving from anyone! She's not old enough to drink, but she's old enough to fuck! She got in the car of her own free will and didn’t do anything she didn’t want to! Don’t let her tell you different!

    Frank peered down at her with piercing blue orbs that seemed to demand the truth. Is that true, Miss?

    The party girl was ashamed of herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie to her hero. She rolled her eyes. I guess so. But I still need that ride, so how about it?

    Frank knew better, but he couldn’t refuse the tiny temptress. He was the ultimate sucker for sexy sirens. He turned to his superior for his consent.

    Hardesty knew nothing of Frank’s trouble with tarts so he didn’t object. Knock yourself out. He pointed at Ashe. And you! Make yourself useful for a change and call an ambulance!

    Home for the party girl was a townhouse a few blocks away. Frank's big black Ford made funny sounds under the hood, but it made it all the way there. Whether he could get to the station to be looked at or not was another matter.

    Frank opened the door for the party girl. As soon as her petite feet hit the pavement she fell into his arms.

    Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I'm a little weak from--all the excitement.

    All the sex, Frank thought. He took her by the arm and walked her to her front doorstep so she wouldn't fall.

    She smiled at him as she put the key in the door. Thanks for seeing me to the door, officer.

    It’s detective.

    Detective.

    The party girl opened the door and peered in. Oo! It’s dark! Detective? Would you mind?

    Don’t the lights work?

    But I’m scared!

    Frank rolled his eyes and followed the silly thing in.

    Click! The lights came on. And the party girl’s dress came off!

    Frank tried not to ever be surprised at what women were liable to do when they got him alone, but he gasped nonetheless. Miss, what are you--

    The petite little party girl, clad only in her platform sandals pushed the tall detective toward the couch. Why, I’m thanking my hero is what. And it’s Pepper.

    What’s pepper?

    My name is Pepper.

    Oh, well you really, you don’t need to--

    Pepper’s hand went to his crotch. Yes, I do. My god! You’re huge! Bigger than those homeys, even! She reared back, and shoved forth with all her weight.

    Frank fell back onto the couch behind him. He allowed himself to, actually, for there was no way the little pixie of a party girl could’ve overpowered him otherwise. He had a habit of letting hot chicks do whatever they wanted to with him and Pepper was spicy indeed.

    Chapter Two

    A leggy, tanned brunette was watching a porno on her television when she heard a familiar junk heap pull up outside her trailer. She jumped off the couch, separated a couple of the closed blinds in her window, and peered out. Shit!

    A man dressed only in a pair of raggedy blue jeans finished off a beer, crushed it, and tossed it into a heap of others that were scattered over the back seat and floorboard. He got out of his banged up car and staggered to the trailer. As he fumbled to get his key into the lock he heard an unfriendly voice emanate from within.

    I’m calling the cops, Randy!

    Randy finally got inside and found the bare-assed brunette waving her cell phone at him. I called them! They’re coming! You know you’re not allowed to get within fifty yards of me!

    He grabbed her around her trim waist and over a tattoo that covered her lower back. Come on, Eunice. I need some loving.

    We broke up, Randy. Remember?

    Randy noticed she was naked, of course, and heard the moaning and groaning coming from the T.V. set. Looks like I’m not the only one who’s sex starved. So how about it? How about for old time's sake? Before Eunice could reply, he jerked his head in the direction of the window. What was that?

    Eunice smiled. That would be the cops.

    A little Asian bag of bones police detective by the name of Henry Wong was on his way home when he heard a message on his police radio. Code 409 at El Trevino Trailer Park.

    He searched his memory banks. Code 409. Now what’s that again? Oh yeah. Domestic disturbance. It was pretty run of the mill stuff, but it was on his way home and he was bored so he decided to check it out."

    Henry arrived at the trailer park within minutes and saw several patrol cars parked beside one of the box houses. His blood started pumping. It didn’t look quite run of the mill after all!

    Randy was rambling and standing behind his ex with a butcher knife to her throat. What’s the matter with you, Eunice? First you say you love me then you say you don’t. Then you have the nerve to put a fucking restraining order out on me.

    One of the patrolmen pointing his gun at Randy looked appalled. Eunice? She doesn’t look like a Eunice to me!

    This was the scene Henry was witness to as he poked his head inside the crowded trailer. He went back to his car and pulled a long-barreled gun of small caliber--a .22--out of the glove box. This should do the trick.

    Randy continued to rant as he held the cops at bay. What’s got into you darling? Why can’t things just be the way they were, huh?

    Eunice spoke up. Because you’re a prick is why, a stinking little prick! She wiggled her pinky. "And I mean little!"

    Randy didn’t want to lose his girlfriend for obvious reasons, but her insulting his manhood was the final straw. Okay! That’s it!

    He was about to slash her throat when, pow, a gun went off. Randy had been smart enough to hide behind his ex and not offer much of a target for the police, but he didn’t have to offer much for Henry. He dropped the knife and clutched his ear, or at least what was left of it. A hole had been blown clean through it!

    As Randy screamed in agony, Eunice broke free and the cops wrestled him to the floor. She ran to Henry and crushed her cleavage against him. Thanks, officer. Exes can be such a pain.

    He blew smoke from the barrel of his little gun like he was in an old western. It’s detective, detective Henry Wong and I was just doing my job, mam.

    Do you have a girlfriend, detective?

    Henry squirmed in the hands of the frighteningly forward femme. Tempting though the thought may be, I suspect you’re way too much woman for me.

    The tasty trailer queen felt of his frail frame. Then her hand went to the stiff spot below the detective’s belt and found him a little wanting in the dick department as was her ex. Hmmm. I suspect you’re right. She gave Henry a peck on the cheek and sent him on his way. But thanks just the same.

    It’s all in a day’s work. Henry swaggered out of the trailer as if he were John Wayne and met a latecomer outside the trailer. Well hello there, Mr. Hostage Negotiator. I saved you the trouble. But there’s no need to thank--

    The negotiator's eyes bulged from their sockets. "Thank you? You could’ve gotten that lady killed! What are you doing here anyway, Wong?"

    I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop in.

    Well why don’t you just drop out! And don’t think the chief won’t be hearing about this latest little incident!

    Henry stomped back to his car. You’re welcome!

    Eunice had had a harrowing experience, no doubt. But, to her surprise, she was excited, not scared. She could almost smell the testosterone in the air while the police were about to clear out with Randy in tow. As crazy as it seemed to her, she just couldn’t let so much pumped up manhood go to waste. She dropped to her knees in the middle of the room and put her hands together as if pleading for mercy. Must you go? I haven’t thanked you all yet. I haven’t come, either.

    Randy was bound hand and foot. He fell to the floor with a thud as the officers dropped him. Hey! What the fuck are you pigs doing?

    The half dozen forgot their police ethics in the face of temptation. They formed a circle around the tanned tart, dropped their heavy gun belts, and unzipped their flies.

    A cop gestured at the tattoo on her lower back. Look! A tramp stamp! Imagine that!

    The rest chuckled.

    Randy lay on his belly like a beached whale so that he couldn’t see what was going on. He could certainly hear, though. .Pigs!

    Chapter Three

    Palmersville’s smaller sister city was El Trevino. Its police chief, Pryor, was in conference with Henry Wong.

    What am I going to do with you, Wong?

    Henry smiled. Give me a raise?

    The chief chuckled. Yeah. Right. You only spend half your time out there on the streets solving crimes like you should be. The rest of the time you spend sitting in front of the shooting review board.

    Henry was well aware of his having to account for and justify each and every round that he fired in the line of duty. Yeah and it sucks.

    Pryor pointed at him. This isn’t the Wild West nor is it the movies. Shooting first and asking questions later just isn’t done--not if you want to keep your badge. Like it or not, there are regulations designed to protect the public that have to be observed.

    Henry squirmed in his seat like a bored schoolboy. Yeah. I heard all this at cadet training academy.

    The chief’s anger swelled at his inferior’s indifference. Well maybe you ought to go back and hit the books, mister, before--

    The phone rang.

    On the other end of the line, over in Palmersville, police chief Hardesty was holding Frank Wright’s file in his free hand. Hey Pryor. How are things over in Dullsville, I mean El Trevino?

    Could be better.

    What’s the matter? Jaywalking on the rise?

    Pryor rolled his eyes. Real funny. What is it? I’m a busy man here.

    Hardesty was disbelieving. Oh really. Say, you got more detectives than you need over there, so how about loaning me one? I got a guy over here in desperate need of a partner.

    Something wasn’t on the up and up. Pryor’s rotund counterpart should’ve had no trouble acquiring personnel with his big city budget. So what’s wrong with him?

    Oh nothing. Stand up guy. Credit to the force.

    Pryor could tell he was being lied to, but he realized that Hardesty’s request could actually be a godsend. "It just so happens that I have the perfect man for the job seated right in front

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