Drug Lord Book Novels & Stories

Olive commented, taking another one. It looks burnt, but it's so delicious. She mumbled, taking another bite. Bruce Chuckled. He actually made it look burnt, but it wasn't. Enjoy, I'll do another one. He said, as he took another pan to start his cooking. He laughed inward. He was a Drug Lord outside, but a chef inside the mansion. What can't this Little mouse turn him into? He wondered. *************** Okay. This is weird, I thought it was just visiting her why does it look like.. it'll turn into a crying fit. Clarice said.

It's hypocritical to think that I'm better than Lombardi just because I have limits to the crimes I can commit but it's the truth. It's expected of drug lords to own such establishments where they do human trafficking and the sort. That's how the books and movies portray us. But in reality, it's a matter of choice really. Am I so hard up that I'd resort to selling people? The answer is no. There are many ways to make money and I'd sooner get a white-collar job than dabble in human trafficking.

“You would love to hear what I just found out, boss,“ Rizzo said and came to sit on the chair beside Angelo. Again I had to mask my grieving face for when I was alone and tried to focus on what Rizzo found out. “I have good news and bad news. Which do I begin with?“ Rizzo asked me and I was beginning to grow impatient. “Ugh! Just go straight to the point Riz,“ I snapped at him and he immediately stood up from the chair he was sitting with a serious face as he brought his laptop to me with Angelo following suit wanting to see what it was that Riz found. “First off, the good news is that we have found the leader of the gang that hijacked our shipment. They call themselves the Red Wolves. they

I replied. "Thanks," She said. I got into a car opposite mine, just to meet the anonymous person. I have given the job to spook Mr Dickson. "So any information?" I asked. "Mr Dickson is an undercover drug dealer. He became a drug lord three years ago, he claimed to be a gold dealer to the world and he has caused many to cry '' He said. "Any other information about him?" I asked. "No for now," He replied. "I need a written report when next you are giving one" I replied.

“We’ll never know what he wanted—because he’s dead.” My brother reminded me of Damien. Impulsive and emotional. I ground my teeth because he was so frustrating. He leaned forward. “What the fuck do you want from me? When did Hades Lombardi become the biggest pussy in the world? Coming here, expecting a heart-to-heart like a fucking woman? Fuck off.” “I want to make you an offer.” “An offer?” he asked. “You know I’m the biggest drug lord in the south of Europe.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t expect me to be impressed.”

Sounds like the ticking of the clock in the hallway , the faint hum of the air cooling system , even Noah’s soft breathing it all fades away. “We have some very exclusive information about one of the contenders for governorship in New Manhattan, Manhattan City. A man by the name of Mr. Morgan Clark. Information reaching us is that he was and he still is a Drug gang leader and involved in multiple illegal drug rings. We have all the proof at hand, the information, names, dates, pictures everything is here.”

I said, looking at them, “who handed this ring to me in the first place?” No one answered. “The night the Godfather was attacked, I took two bullets for him. I also led the raid on the traitor’s warehouse that very night. You’re all here today because, over all these years, I’ve protected the books, the routes, and your heads.” I said each word deliberately, then tossed a stack of new files onto the table. They were the extended lists from the Drake case. Each name had amounts, dates, and transaction records next to it.

Height: 6'3" (tall, really tall) All muscle. Expensive, dark gray suit. Tom Ford brand. Price: at least $5,000. Patek Philippe watch. Price: $80,000. (Who wears an $80,000 watch?) Big hands, with scars on the knuckles. No wedding ring. Age: maybe thirty My brain is screaming DANGER DANGER DANGER. Run for your unloved life! But he doesn't say anything. He just slides a leather notebook across the table toward me. I look down. The handwriting is sharp and clean: You said you hated your life. I fixed it. You have 24 hours to decide if you want to keep it. After that, it disappears. My mouth is dry. "Who the hell are you?" He picks up his pen and writes again: Someone who's been watching you. "T

I was at a loss for words. “It turned out that this drug lord controlled most of the cartels in the world and he introduced me to the business. I loved it! I did! I loved the idea of pushing drugs and with time, I was able to gain his trust. He entrusted me with enlarging the business which I did” I gasped. “Woah”

Sonny said, while racking up the balls. "Oh, I'm sorry, I was under the impression that your father didn't know—considering he has mentioned that he isn't into that type of business either. Maybe I should give him a call to explain myself," Nic said, leaning against the pool table. He knew he had just stuck the knife in and broken it off. He was certain that Paul Marcone had no idea that his fuck-up of a son was about to start dealing drugs. Paul was just as against the stuff as Nic was.