Ricky Murda Novels & Stories

"Fine. But you have to promise me that you won't do anything reckless." "I promise, lord Thank you." Ricardo said, Ricardo spent the rest of the day at the mafia lord station, going through the records and looking for any leads. He found a few cases that involved Romario but nothing concrete. He couldn't give up, though. He had to keep looking. Harley deserved justice. As he was leaving the mafia lord's office, his phone rang. It was Harley. "Godfather, I need to see you. Can we meet?" Harley said

he demanded, his voice a mix of fury and desperation. “Oh, nothing permanent,” Ricky said, his voice echoing from all directions. “Yet. But let’s just say she’s been... dosed. A little cocktail I’ve been experimenting with. It’s quite remarkable, really. Slows the body down, and makes the victim... complaint. Unless, of course, the antidote is administered.” Marcellus surged to his feet, his entire body vibrating with rage. “Where is it? Tell me where it is!”

He had never met or spoken to Ricky in person, even though he knew who he was. Ricky is a famous painter, an eccentric artist whose work is considered very expensive and not just anyone can own it. The fact that Lea knew him and was even close to him, made Jayden surprised and felt jealous, because the man existed first in Lea and Luke's life than with him.

His tongue touched mine and I could have sworn my body was on fire. Someone cleared their throat and I pulled away immediately. Nikolas chuckled and looked past my shoulder to see who had interrupted. “Ricco, did you find out what I asked?” He nodded his head and walked to us with a flash drive in his hands. He handed it to Nikolas and walked away. “What is that?” I asked as I eyed the item in his hand suspiciously. Against my better judgment and what Mother had told me, I asked questions I wasn’t supposed to.

*** Ricky Ricky grunted. He rose up from the bushes after being thrown away by the skeleton. He grunted, while trying to stabilize his breath and to also hold the sharp pain coming from his ribs. Rather than backing away because his ribs were obviously broken, Ricky again assumed his fighting stance as he treaded carefully towards the skeletons. Slowly, a golden aura engulfed his fists, and with that, he landed another critical hit on one of the skeleton soldiers and it perished without any hint of regeneration.

“Berk took off his hat and sat down. Seated at the table were 4 of Ricky's most trusted men. Ricky was pacing and ranting. “That braud thinks that she can blackmail me! Slander my name! I want her dead!" "How boss?" "Just shoot her." That's going to be hard with the cops watching our every move." "I don't care! Why do I pay this bastard right here if I can't do as I please?" He points at Berk. All eyes were on him. "What do you want me to do Mr. Ricky?" "Kill her." "But Mr. Ricky I'm a cop." "And how is that my problem?"

"Actually, I should have phrased that as, he was a badass. He's reformed now supposedly. Saw the light and all that. Currently he works helping juveniles to get out of gangs and off the streets." "Sounds like a saint. He a hacker too?" "No. Think of him as muscle. Part of his job, other than making friends with the more unsavory elements, is to keep your lily-white ass safe from those who might be tempted to see what it looks like when you do bend over to grab that bar of soap." "Oh, no, please don't tell me he's going to be my-" She laughed. "Ricky, short for Ricardo, is your new cell-mate boyfriend."

Above being the cover story of Rolling Stone like some kind of rock star of telecommunications. He was nothing but a big jerk.

Ricky’s cracking voice sounded borderline masculine as he called out to his friend with urgency, banging his fist on the back door of the truck. Ricky was sixteen years old, and he was the youngest Death Row Infantry-man who worked for the Death Row Corp. Carlos opened the armored truck’s automatic rear door to reveal a slender, pale-skinned Asian kid with a white mohawk and a black eye patch over his left eye. Ricky was an energetic young man, and he looked a little androgynous, which was why he struggled to grow a mustache beneath his developing nose.

"Congratulations." "How is that a scam?" Emma folded her arms and leaned against the bathroom door. "Lia." "Hmm?" "Let's use the little common sense God gave us." Lia narrowed her eyes immediately. "I already don't like where this conversation is going." Emma raised a finger. "The sole heir of the De Luca family." A second finger joined the first. "The son of the infamous Il Re Nero (The Dark King)." A third finger followed. "The future Don of the richest and most feared Mafia family in the whole world."