Rick Sanchez Novels & Stories

"You don't know what you're going up again—” I cut him off. "Oh, shut up. I could say the same for you. Did you know what you were going up against when you sanctioned that hit, Mr. Sanchez? Although, I'd like to assume you didn't come all the way here just to talk about your nuisance of a brother." I scoffed. Ricardo stood still, his eyes reddening while he continued to mumble incoherently under his breath. His jaw clenched so tight, the veins in his head becoming pronounced, his hands curled into fists—he was completely transformed.

Saul fussed staring somewhere ahead of him and hissed in pain when he tried to move his hand. “Do not move your right arm until the stitches heal.” Carson gravely warned Saul. “Do you know how dangerous of a man Sherlock Hanes is? He is the country's biggest criminal with a host of underworld businesses. And you went right into the devil's den like you were going to a honeymoon, without even a third person coming to know about it.” Carson complained.

God. Landon made me sit on a high stool at the bar - I'm too short for him, he's like 6', Mariano maybe is 6'3, and why is he interrupting my thoughts? - and ordered me a cranberry and vodka. I was underage, but Landon knew the bartender, so it all worked out just fine. I’m not a big drinker, but I do appreciate the occasional booze. Just recreational, nothing wild.

Keep an eye out in my F******k group: San_2045 squad or I*******m: san_2045 ***

Caitlin grabbed a chair and sat down adjacent to me, her bare thighs squashing down onto the seat as she folded her ankles and leaned back. She gestured with her hand to let me continue, almost impatiently and I cocked an eyebrow at her with a small smile. This woman… "If," I emphasised. "You're willing. Your target would be Lucas Trevino, software engineer and owner of Godfather nightclub." I paused for her reaction and she simply just nodded her head waiting for me to continue.

"Dante! Hell of a fight!" I turn and see Santino Romano heading toward me. He's one of the old guard, runs territory in the north. I need his vote. "Santino." I shake his hand, firm but not crushing. "Good to see you." "Likewise, likewise. That knockout in the third? Beautiful. Clean. Efficient. This is what we need in a Pakhan—someone who knows how to end things quickly." I smile because that's what he wants to see. "I appreciate that. Your support would mean a lot."

“So good to have you here." "Good to see you, too, man." I accept his handshake firmly. Santi’s a bulky, yet tall man. He towers above my height, and I’m six foot two. His shirt looks awfully small on him, a few buttons unable to hang on. A white, tight shirt peeks from under the shirt which is tucked into an equally tight-fitted pants. When he flashes his teeth at me, it's a gold show. There is no single hint of white teeth. If Santi could wear his dirty, mafia money everyday, he definitely would.

He knew how broken she's feeling right now and wanted to comfort her, but other than that, he didn't want anybody to get near her, especially Sebastian. "The boys and I did some investigation about the Sanchez brothers last night," Alex says. "And? What about them?" Rachel ask. "Whoever they are, they're pretty good in covering up their identities. The only information I found about them was that they were born in Las Vegas. Yet there's a possible chance that they could be linked with Juan Sanchez," Alex says. "Who's Juan Sanchez?" Rachel ask with a curious tone. "A gang leader from Las Vegas. Yet it was known that he didn't have sons, but who knows? That guy is famous for covering up everyt