Kickin It Ricky Weaver Novels & Stories

The tension hung thick in the air, but I could barely move, processing the unraveling secrets and threats that had turned my world upside down. Seeing that they were about to use the knife on Davis, I intervened. "Just stop, you really don't want to do this... I... I mean not here." Ricky laughed. "Defending your big brother now, huh? I think you should leave, this is none of your business damsel." "Please... I know he's a douchebag but it's not necessary to kill him." "I don't care..." Ricky nonchalantly replied. He gave his boys a go ahead but immediately Davis said something I never thought I'd hear from his braggy mouth.

Harvey looked calmly at Ricky, and signaled Rachel to turn on the camera. “Talk. You have one chance. “Hopefully everything you say now is exactly the same as what you told them. “I’m a civilized man. I don’t want to kill you, but you better not toy with me.” Seeing Harvey’s calm expression, Ricky instinctively shivered. If the Great Protector frightened him, then Harvey’s expression was enough to make him feel nothing but despair. “I’ll talk… I’ll tell you everything,” he said after taking a deep breath, his voice hoarse.

“Yes… Uncle, whoever you are… thank you for helping me.” Ricky sighed, half amused and half annoyed. “I’m not your uncle, little girl. My name is Ricky. Ricky Zayden Mascherano.” Hearing that, Olivia tried to focus her gaze. The name sounded unfamiliar, but the way this man spoke somehow made her feel a little safe. She took the cup of tea, sipping it slowly. Warmth spread down her throat. “Little girls like you shouldn’t be in nightclubs,” Ricky scolded firmly. “You couldn’t even handle a single drink. What were you thinking?”

I snapped, my words dripping with venom. A smirk etched on Ricky lips. "Woah…feisty huh? I like it." "Keep her out of this, Ricky," Tyler warned, his voice tight with restraint. "This is between you and me." he said, his voice cold and clipped. "You want a race? You got it."

I reluctantly sat down. Ricky lit a cigarette and stretched it towards me. “You seem tense.” “I wonder why?” I replied in a sarcastic tone. The sight of the blood of the four men who were killed would not leave my head. “Fine, I am sorry,” Ricky muttered. “I am never going to pull a stunt like that without informing you.” I could not tell if he was genuine or not. I nodded my head then stood up. “You still don’t want your cut?” He asked, pointing towards the bundles of money on his table.

Fast. I think I need Chan. I was better when we had sex—when I was buried inside her pussy and in complete control of her. My jaw clenches as I watch Ricky getting mobbed by my so-called friends. Even Riley didn’t glance my way once. And it feels like Ricky’s number one mission is to replace me in every part of my life. When practice ends, Ricky shakes hands with the whole team. He skates over, dripping sweat and grinning as he reaches for his water bottle.

He seemed like he has something important to tell me and I wonder what made him come all the way here at this kind of time. “Ricky.” I call out. He flinched as soon as I say his name. “You look so frightened and shocked when you came here.” Gwyneth says before she glances at me. “What happened to you?” “I… I was drinking…” Ricky answered. “Why?” I asked. “What have you been drinking about that you have been meaning to forget?” I paused and stared at him as he weeps softly. “Is there something I need to know that you didn’t tell me?”

Keegan looked at him and replied, "It's none of your concern whether she's okay or not. You should put your focus on the people around you. Settle down, so Mrs. Moore won't have to worry about you anymore." Marshall stared at Keegan without saying anything more. Felicity struggled to set up her phone but finally managed to do so when the ceremony began. Ricky, who was dressed in a suit, stood before the stage, as he watched the bride approaching with Erick's support. Ricky was of average height but was extremely skinny. The suit hung loosely on him, which reminded Felicity of the online term "walking stick" that was used to mock thin people. Apart from being skinny, he seemed unusually weak.

“You are not good with alcohol. One bottle is enough.” “What do you suggest I do then? I just found out I have a son, and there is already a possibility that I would lose the son.” He also took a large quantity of his drink, “We are not going to lose Dean? Now that we are aware of it, we will find a way to make sure we get whoever is doing this.” That was the reason I called him immediately. Ricky knew more about this hide-and-seek game than I did. I was always focused on my business and having fun, plus I rarely have enemies to seek, but Ricky was always seeking, finding and damaging people he felt deserved it.

Ricky’s cracking voice sounded borderline masculine as he called out to his friend with urgency, banging his fist on the back door of the truck. Ricky was sixteen years old, and he was the youngest Death Row Infantry-man who worked for the Death Row Corp. Carlos opened the armored truck’s automatic rear door to reveal a slender, pale-skinned Asian kid with a white mohawk and a black eye patch over his left eye. Ricky was an energetic young man, and he looked a little androgynous, which was why he struggled to grow a mustache beneath his developing nose.