Best Organized Crime Books Novels & Stories

Maximillian smirked at Legis informing him about a man who had guts to disagreed on his term about the money laundering that involves disguising financial assets so they can be used without detection of the illegal activity that produced them. "That bastard, who the fuck is he to whine on my fucking terms. How greedy of him, burn that fucking restaurant he had if he doesn't want my terms. And find another place that can process the money for legal disguise for our drugs profits without noticing of the authority." Maximillian giving orders. "I'll assign that task to Lewis and Baker, how about Mr. Sanchez? What do you want to do to him?" "Kill him." Maximillian bluntly answers Legis as he goes

“Define deeper.” “Off-record transactions. Shell companies. Some of the names involved don’t show up in any official database.” “That’s not new.” “Yes, sir. But this time, the pattern matches something else.” “Say it.” He swallowed. “Organized crime.” The room went quiet. Not because I was shocked. Because I was thinking. I’ve dealt with dirty businesses before. It’s part of the game. You don’t build an empire by staying clean. You just make sure your dirt is buried deeper than everyone else’s.

Finally, she puts the phone down. "Our father kept records," she says. "Not just the safe deposit box materials. Something older. Something he started before Alexandra and Marco were born, back when he first understood what kind of world he was operating in and decided that survival required documentation." She pauses. "He called it the ledger. It isn't one book. It's a collection of everything — transactions, names, photographs, recorded conversations on tapes so old the cases crack if you hold them wrong. It covers forty years of organized crime in this city. Not just the Marino operation. Everyone. Politicians. Judges. Federal agents. Crime bosses who are now respected businessmen. And at

The man from my kitchen stops walking toward me, then changes direction. Now he's moving methodically through the crowd. Checking faces. Checking hands. Searching for something. The room goes quiet. The kind of quiet that happens when everyone realizes someone they don't like is going to point at them. I try to blend in with the other servers. Duck my head. Make myself small. It doesn't work. He stops directly in front of me. Doesn't say anything. He just pulls out that leather notebook, and shows me what he wrote: Where did you find this?

he continued, jaw tightening, "It’s too coordinated. Too precise. It feels like someone planned this." Sylvie shivered. "You mean… someone did?" "Just a thought" Sylvie’s heartbeat skipped. "Ryan," she said slowly, "you think this is organized, don’t you?" Ryan didn’t answer immediately. His jaw flexed once. “It has all the markings of organized crime.” Sylvie sucked in a shaky breath. Her world,her glamorous, chaotic, lively world, was suddenly tilting. Everything felt uncertain. Her family, her safety, the company, the people lamenting in the parking lot…

SECTION 1 PROLOGUE § LOUIS § “No weakness”. That had always been my motto. Taking over my stepfather's criminal organisation set me alight on a dark and fiery path. I sold drugs, I smuggled firearms into the country, and I collected debts from people who wouldn't pay up. I was the Don. Motherfuckers knew better than to cross me. I was powerful. Indomitable. People feared me. The consequence for anybody who crossed me was a bullet between their eyes...

He didn’t recognize either of them. “Inside,” one said. “Now.” The main hall was eerily quiet. Oil paintings of dead men stared down at him as he moved through the house. Alex’s father, Vito Morano, is the head of the Morano crime syndicate. A man who had built an empire on fear, silence, and strategic bloodshed. Vito’s presence alone could chill a room, and tonight, the chill was absolute. He stood at the head of the long dining table, flanked by Dominic and two other capos. Their expressions were unreadable.

With one slight adjustment of the hand, it continues, “I, myself, would like to say ruthless killer, but then we all know Vic Stone, you would never have walked out there alive.” And ya, I think I should, but I do not keep quiet, “I am glad to see that we agree on one thing.” “Oh no, I don’t agree. My question is, what was Colton Cruz doing there in the first place? See, this is how things work in this crazy fucked up Mafia business. You do not set your foot on someone else’s turf.” Well, this is where I need to stop it right in the fucking but.

He moves so fast I cannot even remember the faces of people I speak to. “Please,” I ask him “Slow down.” My feet ache and my muscles are sore. I have long since dropped the flowers on some random table, hoping silently they would burn and take the building and everyone in it. My fingers grasp onto a glass and I gulp down water quickly, my throat parched from flimsy small talk. The wedding will be in the papers. I can see the headline now- Two Crime Families Put Aside Differences; I knew the papers would sell quickly. Crime sold. I would know. My name had been in the papers since the day I was born thanks to my father. New York would tremble underneath me if I wanted it to. I dripped in cashm

In 2012, the Obama administration imposed sanctions on Camorra, one of the four largest transnational organized crime groups, including the Russian Brotherhood, Japan’s Yakuza and Mexico’s Los Zeta. It’s most likely that he’s one of them. By process of elimination, I can say he doesn’t belong to the Camorra. The highest probability is that he belongs to the Sicilian Cosa Nostra. But I had to be sure. * “Where’s Hope?” I asked as soon as I got home. “She’s still sleeping.” Natasha tells me. I went to Hope’s room and found her curled up on her bed. I should let her sleep a bit longer. But I can’t help but lie on the bed beside her.