Jackson Underworld Novels & Stories

Jackson shared what he discovered about him since he suspected the man was trying to impress Anastasia. "This signifies that he belongs to the underworld. The more we stay away from him, the easier our lives will be.” As she began eating her spaghetti, Anastasia added, "Pay attention to your meal, which will taste twice as good as long as it stays hot." While eating, the white sauce smeared below the corner of her lips, and Jackson swiftly placed a tissue to her lips to clean it off, as Richard saw. He did not like this at all, and there was no explanation for it, but he felt as if someone had left scars on his body.

Now, Amara and her adapted kid is in their line of sight. "Our guys are on their way to take the kid. You said you want the b*tch to suffer."Jackson informed Mrs. Higgins after their family lunch. "Good. Make sure she knows my pain, Jackson." "Of course, Auntie. Of course." Jackson Higgins is considered by many as the black sheep of the family. That's because it's true. Jackson has a very long list of charges in seven towns in their region. If not for his last name, he would probably in super max right now. It's like cleaning his mess became his family's tradition. He's been involved in all kinds of crimes; rape, murder, drugs, kidnapping. After his family accepted that he would never change

Now do you want to kill them and fuck her off too? Anthony’s Uncle ~”Does that mean you will let us live?” Jackson ~ “You just put a gun to my underboss' head. Do you think I should let you live?” Anthony’s Uncle Two ~”Please Jackson we really did not know.” Jackson ~”I really do not give a fuck if you knew or not. You have a gun against one of my crew and you all know how that is going to work out for you.” Anthony’s Uncle ~”But please...”

When I did I had to sit down. They had found the underling in Tampa, Florida. He had two underlings of his own now traveling with him. The detective followed him as he moved along the gulf coast, stopping in a few cities and small towns I had visited like Crystal River and Yankeetown before he moved on up into Georgia. It seems that the underling, whose name the P. I. found out was Jackson Kimble, had been asking questions of the locals about me. There was no way anyone would tell him anything because no one knew I had ever been there.

Jackson grabbed her, yanking her to the ground as gunfire erupted, bullets tearing through the office walls like paper. Cole dove behind the console, shouting, “Jackson GO! Take Savannah and RUN!” But Jackson didn’t move. He pulled Savannah tight against him and stared straight into the chaos, eyes burning with one terrifying, unshakeable truth Harrison didn’t just want to ruin them. He wanted Jackson Sterling dead. And Savannah with him.

The Moretti Family's Thanksgiving party was in full swing downstairs—crystal clinks, fake laughs, classic mafia gloss. Meanwhile, I was curled up in a servant's room on the third floor. Jackson Moretti's wife. Legally, anyway. My hands were ice. I gripped the ultrasound report like it could anchor me. Three heartbeats. Strong, steady. It was supposed to be a surprise—his big Thanksgiving gift. To the outside world, Jackson was a polished Stanford grad, running a top-tier consulting firm in San Francisco. But behind the scenes? He ran the Moretti empire—cold, calculated, pulling strings in the West Coast's darkest corners.

The crows were flailing. Business and politics were just the surface. Jaxon knew that a war of this scale would not be won in boardrooms alone. The Elijah Family had long kept its hands clean in the eyes of the world, but beneath the surface, they had their own connections to the underworld. Unlike the Rostishires, who relied on brute force and old alliances, Jaxon had built something far more efficient—a network of shadows, mercenaries, and informants embedded in every level of the criminal world. A midnight meeting was called in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Inside, some of the most feared names in the underworld gathered—men who controlled entire syndicates, arms de

“I saw a documentary.” “Yeah?” Lee snaps. “Was it sandwiched between your mafia movie and an episode of Narcos?” Another chuckle rolls out of Jackson. This one’s sharper. More deliberate. Either he finds his little roommate funny — which he’s not. Okay, maybe a little. Or he’s figured all this out, and he’s savoring it. He’s way too placid. That sets me on edge. “Seriously, though,” Jesse barrels on, undeterred, “… there’s always a mafia. Russians, Irish, Yakuza — pick a flavor. You piss off the wrong one, you end up in a trunk. With them … everything is business. I’ve seen it.”

“I'd have killed Jackson a long time ago if not for the Mafia blood oath. That guy was ordered to secretly follow the late Don Gomez to Los Angeles when he went to look for Nora but he took-off immediately when he saw the Black Mambas attack Don Gomez's vehicle.“ Jackson's relative dropped his drink on the table and lowered his head in shame. The last guy who hadn't said a word shook his head and looked at the people dancing in the club. “I miss the old days,” he said. “And every single second that passes laughs at me as I remember that late Don Gomez Waxson's killers are still breathing.“ Nobody said anything for a while. And then, Raven finally broke the silence. “Where's Soldier Jackson n

Everyone in this city who worked in dark places knew that name. Xavier Aubert. The billionaire playboy and dangerous Mafia don. Theo Gaspard's best friend, a man who owned streets and judges. My eyes widened, as my breathing became rapid and shallow. He saw my recognition, as a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. "Xavier the mafia don," he said, his lips still close to my ear. "You've heard of me, haven't you, beautiful?" "So what?" I whispered, refusing to appear weak even as my heart hammered against my ribs.