Mike Ramirez Killer Novels & Stories

"I didn't pull the trigger. It wasn't me," "Then was it Casper the ghost? Alexander, please give me a damn break," "It wasn't me," he growls. "Why don't you just listen to me?" "Because you betrayed me! You betrayed me Alexander. You were buddies with Denzil! For God's sake the person who ruined my life!" "Now that's where I have to get at," he swallows. "Denzil, he was the one that pulled the trigger. I had a silencer on my gun,"

**ETHAN RAMIREZ** -TWENTY FOUR HOURS EARLIER. I just conceded to aiding and abetting murder. It's not the first time such is occuring, I've done it before but with a different client if I'm permittee to use that phrase. The other time something like this happened was with the man I just agreed to kill. First it was Shawn. It started with Shawn. He sent me inside to spy on her and you're well aware of how the story goes.

he said and stood up. "What are you going to say? that I killed him? , sorry but you have no proof against me' I yell. He brought out his phone and played the recording where I admitted to everything just now then put it back into his pockets. "Actually, it's your word against you" he said with a smile. "Times up" the warden shouted coming closer to us. "By the way, I'm Miguel Ramirez, the son of your ex husband" he said before walking away, not sparing me one single glance.

Fajardo said. “The brother of the victim will file the case instead of me. I need to get back to my family. My wife and I will never attend the court hearings.” I replied. I exercise my breathing for me to relax. I fucking want to kill him! “I understand Ramirez. Leo Montes is also in the top four wanted criminals here in our country so it’s impossible for him to get out of here in this lifetime. Thank you for your time.” The inspector said and shook my hand again.

“And yet, you’d be dead without me. Again.” He snorted under his breath, but I could see the relief etched into the lines of his face. When we finally broke apart, my gaze went to Ryan. He hadn’t moved. He stood rooted in place, eyes wide, his hands shaking as he pulled at his hair in frantic clumps. “What have you done?” he muttered. “Oh God—what have we done?” Then he started pacing. Back and forth. Wild-eyed. “You just shot him! You killed him!” he barked. “Do you even understand what this means? You didn’t just kill anyone. That was his son. The Don of Mexico! The son of Altherio fuckin’ Herrera!”

"Tommy's situation is specific. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, witnessed something he shouldn't have. The people after him aren't after our family generally." "Are you sure about that?" Miranda asked. "Because David did some digging last night—called in some favors with his law enforcement contacts. This Ramon who's apparently behind the shooting? He's seriously bad news, Celeste. Multiple murders, trafficking, drugs, the whole package. If he's after someone in your orbit—" "We're handling it," I said firmly. "Xenois, Dmitri, and Sloane are all working on it. Tommy's safe at the hospital, and they're putting together a plan to deal with Reyes permanently."

“Ella, I know you hate me. That’s fine. I have plenty of time to make it up to you. I’ve already had your mother buried in the most luxurious cemetery in New Yorke—” “Andrew.” I stopped him. “Do you think that murderers mourning their victims are touching?” Andrew’s hand shook violently. The documents slipped from his grip and scattered across the floor.

I plotted, I got older and smarter. And then I went for Ramirez when the time was right. I was older and I had men with me this time to infiltrate his house. I looked him dead in the eyes and said one last thing to him before I pulled the trigger. "My name is Alvaro Castillo. The son of the man you ordered a hit on." The look of realization dawning on Ramierez's face didn't last long because I pulled the trigger sinking a bullet right between his eyes.

“Oh? Why did you come then?” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and I got the distinct impression I would not like what she was about to say. “Did you know Hugo Ramirez was killed today? Shot in cold blood. Two in the chest. One in the head. When we searched his body, he had coke on him. His bedroom was full of coke too… almost five pounds worth. He was only seventeen years old.” Keeping my face blank, I shrugged. “What does this seventeen-year-old punk kid have to do with me?”

I inquired, wanting to confirm we were safe and that my gut feeling was accurate. "No one. We Hamatains are known for peace, not violence. Is something bothering you?" Ramirez asked, noticing that I was being open with him. "Do you think my stepmother could be responsible for these killings?" I asked, glancing at the soldiers and then back at Ramirez. "You could be right. But I witnessed her death. Didn't you see her die?" Ramirez asked, confusion apparent on his face. We both were indeed perplexed. "I did see her die, but I passed out afterward. Can you recall if you all buried her and my stepbrother?" I inquired, and Ramirez closed his eyes, attempting to recollect.