Miguel Mike Ramirez Novels & Stories

After two rings, the call connected. “Hello?” a voice said. Miguel spoke calmly. “It’s me. Miguel.” There was a pause. Then the man spoke again, surprised. “Miguel? Man, I thought you disappeared.” “I need a favour,” Miguel said. “And I need you to keep this between us.” Another pause. Then a low sigh. “What is it?” Miguel kept his voice steady. “I need everything you can find about Mr. Rivera. Where he went. Any unusual transactions. Anything.”

"Of course not, if he knew we wouldn’t be alive right now. We won’t let Dominic get away with this.” Elsewhere in the city, Miguel the leader of the Mexican gang sat in the dimly lit room, staring at the framed photograph of his deceased son, Alejandro. The boy's eyes seemed to gaze back at him, a stark reminder of everything he had lost. Kim, the leader of the Japanese gang, stood at the far end of the table, his sharp voice breaking through his thoughts. "Miguel," Kim's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "We need to focus."

He squinted his eyes and looked at me suspiciously, “The name is Miguel Myers, and you are seriously getting on my last nerve, mister manager. I ain’t know what you want from me, but one of two things is going to happen right now. One, you can let me go out there and settle my issues with my sister. Two, you can come with me to my car and I’ll fucking transfer the money to you.

“Piper.” “Don’t speak my name, Liam. Does this dirty Omega know that you have a fiancee?” Her words made my eyes widen in shock.

Marcel didn’t say a word, he didn’t object on his beta, and clearly his best friend, staying in the room. “Do you want to get something to drink?” He asked me, and I shook my head as I looked down at the man who I knew was fighting back his own blood. “Thank you for calling me.” I said, looking at Vladimir who nodded. “I should be the one thanking you for trusting me.” He said, watching as Marcel fought back his own demons tonight, fought back his pain and anger. Whatever had caused this trigger, I knew that it was not easy for him to control.

Despite them not really knowing about us being wolves, the fact that she had a lover over her husband was enough to have others putting a question mark. “If it isn’t our famous Pakhan and his beloved maiden” Andreas Garcia, one of the Mexican partners we had. The man was an heir of the Garcia family, and not only was he arrogant, but he was one of the men who had helped with spreading the rumors of the scandal that happened in hopes to benefit from them.

I follow the blonde, evading her hand when she tries to link it through my arm. “Cain, finally.” Darius is sitting at the table next to a blonde boy, but Flame is nowhere to be seen. He gestures to the blonde boy. “This is Damien and I assume you’ve met Gale and Ollie. There’s also Emery and Leila…” He emphasises the last name, as if to remind me that Flame is using her middle name with the humans. “Have just popped upstairs to get their jackets.” “Here.” Gale places a plate down on the table and pats the chair. Some sort of filled tortilla’s are on the plate and they smell amazing.

Even if she's the rightful mate of the dominant Alpha but in his eyes, she was just a vermin that hinders his plan to have a strong mate to stand and rule by his side. To be dumped by her mate like that, Tatiana was hurt at the same time, she's in deep rage for putting her in this kind of predicament she never wishes to taste. Yet, her choice to decline was rubbed by him. Alpha Mraz is the root of her misery and feeling angry for everything justified her madness. She has the right to get mad, to resent him, to loathe him but why does her heart still yearn for him? Like there's a speck of puzzle that only he can fix the pieces?

I'm sure I like him but let's just wait and see where this will take us. I just can't believe that I, Carmela Thompson is dating Cyrus Steele!

The man behind the desk smoking casually like this is all perfectly normal. There's a gag in his mouth. Tied so tight it's cutting into the corners of his lips. Dried blood on his temple. Bruises forming along his jaw. Someone roughed him up during the kidnapping. Aaron sets down his cigar in a crystal ashtray. Leans back in his chair. "Miguel Rodriguez," he says. His voice is smooth. Cultured. "Twenty-three years old. Junior at San Francisco State. Business major with a minor in marketing. Works part-time at a sports equipment store."