-Chapter One-

Bruce panted, his heart beating furiously like someone who just finished a marathon. He had just completed his personal combat training - a flying dropkick to the punchbag that hung in middle of the bedroom, the hit sent the bag swinging back and forth on its chain like a pendulum. He slumped down on the floor on his knees, sweat flowed freely down his dark huge body.

"Lord protect my family, give me the strength that do my job and protect my brother despite his ways, in Jesus name, Amen" said Bruce with his eyes closed, it was a short prayer, he wasn't a fan of long words.
He heard the door creak open followed by nearly silent footsteps, he opened his eyes.

It was his wife, Sheila. She was carrying a tray containing beverages, her gown was stretched by a big belly, she wore a smile on her pretty face.

"And I thought I could sneak up on you" she said. Her eyes glared at him admiring his biceps.

"You are getting better though and it looks like you brought me something" replied Bruce standing up and walking up to her and taking a canned drink from the tray. He looked at Sheila lustfully as he gulped it down. He dropped the can on finishing it and exhaled. He grabbed her by the waist with one hand and squeezed her buttocks with the other, she moaned softly before leaning in to kiss him. He kept on kissing as he pushed her towards a direction, the tray crashed to the ground as Sheila tried to brace herself. they both fell over into the bed.

"How's Junior" he asked rubbing her tummy and speaking muffled words at it.

"His hanging in there" replied Sheila. Just then the baby kicked. The baby was the best thing that ever happened to them. Bruce wished he could be around always to give Sheila the care she deserved and needed.

Bruce wore some clothes as he finished cleaning up the mess made during their little rumble. It was the Nigerian police uniform, the all black shirt with three red V's on the shoulder and trouser crowned by a green beret stared him in the face before he attached a bulletproof vest with the word POLICE broadly sprawled on it. He was a sergeant, one of the best men in the state. He retrieved his weaponry from the drawer under the mirror. It was a silver rimmed Glock 17 handgun, this was the same weapon that earned him his reputation.

Sheila had told him to take a break from crime fighting for a while. There were so many reasons, there were a lot of bad eggs on the force, most times they were understaffed and unequipped, the pay was also very low. But Bruce believed it was his role to create a better place for their family, for the baby, for Sheila.

She waved him goodbye as a black van with switched off sirens arrived to pick him up. As she walked back in, Sheila remebered his words. He promised to return, this were the same words she heard almost every week. She hoped it would not be the last.


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So i've decided to attempt an action story and i hope it will become very enjoyable

ride on