John Marston From Red Dead Redemption Novels & Stories

“I know. Now tell me who you’d recommend.” As silence settled between them, Gunnar took another slow drag from his cigar, the smoke curling into the air between them, thick with thought. After a moment, he exhaled, the smoke dissipating as he spoke. “Alright, if it’s someone you can trust, someone who won’t crack under pressure, it’s Marco. He’s discreet and efficient, and he’s got no ties to families or anything. He’s your man.”

Seeing reinforcements, the fear on Mark's face faded right away as he laughed smugly. He even calmly pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it and smoking leisurely. "Haha! Let's see where you're gonna hide against those numbers, Jasper!" Jasper didn't respond, as he was staring at the man who emerged from behind the mercenaries, chuckling. "Heh. It's been a while, Jas." It was Gio, one of mob boss Don Kalon's capo.

"Trust me, nothing will happen." Marion was known for his rebellious nature and his usual indifference to everything around him. But now, Debra saw a different side of him. Marion was dubbed a messenger of death, bringing cruelty and bloodshed wherever he went. Yet, in her eyes, Marion always hid a gentle tenderness. He merely pretended to be indifferent, refusing to let anyone get too close. In Juan's study room, Joe stood in front of the desk and reported, "We've found out. Those photos were most likely taken by Stanley."

As I approached, the guards nodded in recognition, their stern expressions softening momentarily as I passed. Taking a deep breath, I entered the garage, the scent of motor oil and bourbon mingling in the air. Marco's hands were braced on the work table, his focus was on whatever lay before him. A glass of bourbon sat nearby along with the bottle. Droplets of sweat glistening down his neck, arms, and torso—bare since he only wore his pants. It was a sight that never failed to stir something within me, a reminder of the man he was—strong, commanding, and utterly masculine.

“I am not a dog. I am the man who will end you if you do not show respect.” “Respect?” Marko spat. “I don’t respect boys who play with guns. And I don’t respect little girls who think they are tough. She looks soft. I bet she is soft.” That was it. Jaxon did not say another word. In a split second, his hand moved. A gun was in his hand. It was so fast it was just a blur. BANG. The sound was terribly loud in the room. Marko’s head snapped back. A small, red hole appeared in the middle of his forehead. His eyes went wide with surprise. Then he slumped forward, dead, onto the table.

I thrash, cry, and beg them not to, but they press me down against the examination chair, so that the door can insert his cold metal into my vein. My eye twitches as the needle goes in, but I'm somehow able to maintain eye contact with Marlon, and I don't think I have ever seen a more heartless expression from a man. Maybe I've been too dickmatized to notice it, but I think Marlon Gustave is actually a psychopath. That's why his son never gets along with him... "There you go, Janae. All done. See? It's not that bad," Doctor Marten teases as he holds up the small vial that holds my blood.

ino, ever Marino's loyal servant. Jack slipped in from the opposite side of the room, right on time, gun raised steady. "Take what you came for and leave, Tino, like we agreed. Switzerland's honor is at stake. I have killed for less," said Jack, ready to spill blood to protect his reputation as a mediator between rival gangs. Tino nodded curtly. "Come quietly, JR. No need for anyone to get hurt. Ill Padrino misses you." Defeated, JR's shoulders slumped under the weight of grief and resignation. Never did I ever think it would be that simple, but she went with them without further protest. She paused at the door, turning back with eyes full of venom. "Sick fuck. In love with a child. Why else

the Mafia man could only look at him in pity. “Marct Benedict,” the Mafia man spoke up, confusing Sandy. “Now known as Marct Richard. The redhead in that report. He’s not the kind of man you wanna go against. Believe me, I’ve lost battles against him numerous times. I’ve tried. He’s just everywhere and he’s dangerous,” Sandy burst out laughing, thinking the Mafia goon was crazy. “You’re worried about a boy? He’s a fucking boy,”

Chapter 101: Which Room? VOLUME 3: RANSOMING REDEMPTION Maggie Flynn smiled to herself as she watched the falling snow through the large bay window of the Red Lion Inn. "This is gonna be good," he'd said. While she waited at their table, Bobby had gone to check them in for their overnight stay.

Other than that, there was no other trace of blood anywhere else. Was Markos really a legitimate businessman? I laughed and shook my head, deciding I was being crazy. Markos had an empire to show for all his hard work. He had to be a legitimate businessman. There had to be a good explanation for all the blood I saw. After cleaning, I carried out other duties and passed the time before it was time to go home. I was very hungry and tired and I couldn’t wait to get home. As I exited the hotel, I saw Markos leaning against his car. His dark hair was unruly and messy on his head, his shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and he was in slacks and Armani shoes. He looked very hot.