Richard Russo Novel Novels & Stories

He silently vowed to protect Annah with everything he had, trusting that Connor would do whatever it took to ensure their safety. ******************** Annah looked up from her book, the sudden noise echoing through the mansion's grand halls. The loud thuds and chaotic commotion outside seemed to grow closer with every passing moment. She glanced out of the nearby window, her curiosity piqued. "Russo, what's happening outside?" Annah asked, concern evident in her voice. "I can't concentrate with all this noise. It sounds like the mansion is under attack!" "I'm afraid you're right, Miss Annah," Russo replied, his gaze fixed on the commotion. "The mansion is under attack."

I hear Mrs Russo speak, I must have been so lost in my train of thoughts not to have heard the sound of footsteps approaching me. “Good Morning Mrs Russo” I abruptly say as I get up “I see you have a habit of always turning down our refreshments” she trailed off looking at the orange juice and cinnamon roll placed on the side table for me which wasn’t touched. I didn’t know how to tell her that I could not eat anything whenever I was anxious, if not I would be in the toilet real quick! And just like that I saw him approaching as well, Mr Russo was accompanied by a man formally dressed holding a leather suitcase in his left hand. They were having an inaudible conversation that seemed to come

He was bound to a chair in the Castillo estate’s basement, his face already swollen from the interrogation and blood dripped from his split lip, staining his expensive suit. Alaric stood in front of him, expression cold and detached. He had removed his suit jacket, sleeves rolled up, the metal of his rings catching the dim light as he flexed his fingers. I leaned against the wall, arms crossed while I watched them. “I’ll ask you one last time,” Alaric said, voice calm. “Where are the last of your men?” Russo coughed, spitting blood onto the floor. “You think—” He sucked in a breath. “You think killing me will erase my family’s legacy?”

My men moved like phantoms, silent and lethal. Inside, the living room glowed under crystal chandeliers. Don Russo sat bound in a velvet armchair, wrists raw from rope. His wife—Clara—huddled on the sofa with their children: Luca, sixteen, jaw clenched; Sofia, fourteen, trembling. Gags muffled their whimpers. Russo’s eyes bulged when I stepped into the light, recognition slamming into him like a freight train. “Il Diavolo?” The name cracked out, hoarse with disbelief. “But you’re dead.”

El Russo woke with a start. His deep set amber eyes surveyed the room he was in. The last thing he remembered was being on his way home from the airport, when he and his driver were attacked by strange men. He held his head in pain. An IV injection was stuck to his hand. That too made him uncomfortable. A bandage was wrapped round his bare torso, and his ribs burnt with pain when he tried to move. A memory of a girl flashed through his head. Green eyes, trembling hands. He pressed his head to ward off the pain that came with thinking.

XXX Alexander Russo POV Why in the hell was everything so chaotic lately? My business partners Ashton and Eliseo had women locked up in their basements with no real plan other than to keep them there. I didn’t realize we were in the capturing women business, but alas, here we were. The final partner, Janus was on a rampage because Paradise Island had a drug dealer plaguing the island bringing in contraband, and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out who it was. This little contraband issue was causing problems for me since I was the one heading the police force and security. I was fucking failing miserably right now. What a shit show. Running a hand through my hair, I fell back into the so

"Everything looks good." Then they left. I waited, then slipped out and headed for the exit. Made it back to Warehouse 12. Marco was still outside on his phone. When he came to check on me, I'd selected several furniture pieces. "Find what you need?" he asked. "Perfect. These will work great." As we walked past Warehouse 7, I kept my expression neutral but my mind was racing. Russio was a serial killer. Or covering for one. Either way, he'd been taking young women for years.

is the initial of Papa Ben’s construction company. So, that means it’s either the Russos own this bar or they personally know the owner. That explains why Cicero didn’t bother about the repercussions of taking someone’s life here. The Russos are neck-deep in wealth, and their money is their answer to so many things. Which is understandable because you don’t have to be the bad guy everyone knows. You just have to have enough money to pay for the services of that bad guy. And the Russos… they have several of those “bad guys” on retainer.