Marvin Cortes Novels & Stories

CASSANDRA POV 1 YEAR LATER. "Why can't you send someone else?" I questioned my boss Mateo holding the phone up my ear. "Because you're the best assassin we have to kill this motherfucker, who has been causing trouble for us," Mateo said. "I don't give a fuck how you kill him, seduce him, shoot him in the dick, do what you have to get him" "Fine, so what's the guy's name, and what does he look like," I asked.

He releases his grip on my mouth and forcefully spins me around to face him. This man is nothing like Thomas. His eyes are a deep shade of brown, and a scar runs across one of his eyebrows. His hand is grimy and covered in black grime, slicked back by natural grease, and I can detect the lingering smell of smoke on his breath. I glance over his shoulder and spot Dale standing there, offering me a smile accompanied by a gentle wave of his finger.

And all Undescriable pleasures of life. I had heard that Martin Knight Castillo who was the CEO of all the Castillo Corporation handed that position over to his twenty nine year old son, Damien Knight Castillo, who came back from abroad recently. No one had seen him at the hotel yet, but I heard the rich people talking about how handsome, cruel and heartless he was.

Cortez said to Manuel. Manuel made a slight grunt. "Alright! I'm going out to do some work first! Take it easy, you guys," Cortez chuckled awkwardly, then fearlessly said to Manuel, who had a black face, "Pay attention to some positions, or else be careful that your wedding might be postponed again." After finishing speaking, Cortez, who was in his fifties and still in good health, swiftly ran away. Britney and Manuel stared at each other, feeling extremely awkward.

“How long was Estevez there?” “Five months,” Marco said. “Then, terminated. But not by Cortez.” “Then by who?” “He died,” Marco said flatly. “Two weeks before the Paris summit. Car crash. No autopsy was made public. Cortez’s studio paid for everything. No family statement. No funeral records. Sealed report.” Ximena’s stomach turned. Not in fear—**in fury**. “Someone erased him,” she whispered. “Someone didn’t want him talking,” Marco corrected. “Someone who knew what he saw inside your vault.”

I swirled it around as Oscar begged for the purchaser's name. "Patience, Oscar, patience. I'm trying to help you out here." I smirked as I took a sip. "Who's the f*cking guy, Marco? Stop playing games," Oscar pleaded. It was hard not to play when I was so good at it. "Matias Castaneda. I'm sure you're familiar." "Damn it," was all he answered. He knew he was in deep sh*t. Nobody messed with Alpha Castaneda. He was enigmatic and stuck to the shadows. But, he had the reverence of all the packs in Miami proper.

Warrior Robbie “You fucking what!” I bellow unable to rein in my anger. I don’t mean to blurt the words out, but Nick gave me the reins of control here, so I’m just going to go with it. “They have my mate.” Alberto huffs out as his body appears to relax. Is he relieved that he told us? My reaction to his words is to call bullshit but something inside of me holds me back. I think Nick was right to want to listen to him before acting because, while I’m not sure if he’s 100% telling me the truth, I’m also not sure that he isn’t.

I fixed my ass on the couch. “What?”… “I know you will be mad, Max. But trust me, it has nothing to do with the nutcase lady or her father.” I leaned a little, reaching for a corkscrew, and I screwed off the cork of the bottle. “I’m not fucking mad at you, Leo. I’ve always known you as someone who fucking does things with motives behind it. So what’s the fucking tea? Spill it.” Serving the glasses, “My body has yet to fully recover after the face out with the Maranos. I don’t want your sister to see me as incapable during….” I slid a glass to him.

Then a hand went up. “It’s y equals mx plus b.” I turned toward the voice. The guy sitting next to me was Hispanic. Sharp jawline. Curly hair. Blue eyes. Arms like tree trunks. “That’s correct,” Mrs. Payne said. “And your name?” “Marcelo,” he replied. “My name is Marcelo.”

I was trying to figure out what to do to get the money I needed. After cleaning and finishing my shifts without acknowledging Markos, it was time to go home. I changed back into my clothes so I could get ready to leave. But, as I was arranging my work clothes in my locker, someone appeared behind me. It was a man I didn’t know. He looked about Markos’ age. The only difference was that he was a bit shorter and he had tattoos all over his neck. He had dark hair and equally dark eyes. He may have passed for a pretty boy but there was something dark lying below the surface. He was as scary as Markos.