Best Books About Organized Crime の小説・ストーリー

Jake tagged along like a shadow, giving a small smile to the agents that walked past. "Agent Brown, Agent Spencer." Supervisory Special Agent Harroway dropped a large file on the table that took half the room. "We have a murder case on our hands." "So much for drinking," Jake murmured, bringing a smile to Charlie's lips. "The crime took place at eight p.m two days ago and it's got Cosa Nostra all over it." "Oh, not again," Charlie groaned. Organized crimes never seemed to decrease. Instead, they grew larger in number each day. Despite the risks, they still went on committing crimes while involving in such diabolical crimes giving the squad a non-stop headache.

I glared at him and turned to run up the stairs. I got to my room, slammed the door shut, and locked it. I picked up the laptop from the study table and searched for the word that was bothering me the most. "Mafia" Hesitantly, I clicked on the first search result that pulled up and started to read everything about it. Mafia is an informal term that is used to describe a criminal organization that bears a strong similarity to the Sicilian Mafia... Mafias often engage in secondary activities such as gambling, loan sharking, drug trafficking, prostitution, and fraud...

she should be severely punished but she was having a class, well, that's a pass for her. I decided to bury my mind into some of the books on my table to deviate it from the bulging strain of my member. From Crime books to business to psychology, name them, I read them all, it's what makes a man — Books. Collective ideas and opinions; I am that man. Since I was Eighteen when my father handed over the Mafia clan to me, I had always been guided by books, learning things from leadership to detecting crimes to understanding minds, science and all that one can think of. I can't be more appreciative of the passion.

He is kind and humorous, and when he speaks of being president one day, I believe him. “Governor Smith, how are you?” My husband greets him with the same excitement and extends his hand. This is how this world is, crime and capital go hand in hand. There is no definitive line between those who create laws and those who break them. There is only recognition and understanding of power. I used to have power once. “And Mrs. Cattaneo, how are you?” I extend my arm like a robot, and pretend to be delighted when he kisses my hand.

“How the actual fuck did you not know this was too much? We’re not trying to bury them. They’re not some scammy little front—we’re talking people with reach. Like… old-money-cult bullshit.” “I said it was too intense,” he blurted. “But the senior editors said you like the bold cuts. Like the team leader.” “Oh my fucking god.” I threw my hands in the air. “Yeah—I like bold cuts. But not when we’re dealing with shadow organizations that throw parties in abandoned churches and have dudes with rings that cost more than my fucking rent.” “You didn’t say what the focus of the episode was,” John mumbled. “You… kinda disappeared. We had to guess.”

The cocaine's numbing effects had worn off, allowing the sting of pain and humiliation to resurface. He rose from the sofa and walked over to his study table, where an old, worn book lay waiting. As he opened its yellowed pages, a flood of memories came over him. The book was a relic from his early days, when he was still learning the intricacies of his family's mafia involvement. Antonio flipped the pages, taking in the familiar scribbles and notes he had jotted down years ago. The words "Cosa Nostra" stood out, as it reminded him of his family's roots in the Sicilian mafia.

/THIRTY MINUTES AGO/ Three in the morning wasn't a bad time to do shady business. It was said in the Bible that the wicked loved the night because they believed the world couldn't see them. The same thing applied to criminal organizations like the Mafia, the drug cartel, terrorists, robbers, you name them. It was something Lucien had come to understand since he also —not once but multiple times performed such shady business in the past. "At least ten trucks..." Jim, the chief of police said as he passed the binoculars to Lucien who had been studying the street for an hour now.

That name was too well-known to forget. He was no ordinary man. He was dangerous. He was known across the criminal world as La Bestia. As the Mafia Don of the Romano Empire, he ruled a vast underworld of power and violence that stretched across Europe and into America. His organization controlled everything from arms trafficking and money laundering to private security firms, luxury hotels, and international shipping. The mere mention of his name made powerful men rise to their feet or drop to their knees. And women? He took them, used them, and threw them away like they meant nothing.

If he’d known I was on a rampage, he wouldn’t have promised me a visit from his crew. He’d spat blood and promised that his death wouldn’t go unavenged. I’d snarled back that I wouldn’t expect any less. The fucker didn’t get another breath after that. He’d been a name we crossed off the hit list. One of the major players sniffing around the Grand Marlow hotel with connections to the syndicate. The syndicate wasn’t just an individual, but a disease spread across half the city, rotting it from the inside out. Trafficking, smuggling, blood money. If you cut off one limb, another would reach out.

“Hope you like Italian.” Lucia leaned on the counter, watching him move with surprising ease. He washed his hands, chopped vegetables, and tossed ingredients into a heated pan. The aroma of garlic and butter began to fill the kitchen. Mafia men were supposed to be brutal and distant. Lorenzo was nothing like that for a man like Lorenzo Salvatore, it was the opposite or his only pretending for today. “I lived in Rome for five years,” he said, catching her watching again. “Learned from the best.”