Rico Kruz Novels & Stories

I asked and he shook his head. "It's this guy Saitama. He was fired from his job and after being beaten with a crab monster to save the kid who drew n *** s with a permanent marker on the crab man." When I told Karish about the funny scene, I remembered how ridiculous it was. It was one of my favorite manga with Chris and we used to watch it together on his smartphone during breaks.

"Not so good for business. Can we just start over again?" He laughed, a full-throated sound. "Absolutely. Señorita Prescott, I am Miguel Cruz Castillo, Please call me Cruz." "And I'm Shea Prescott." "Shea." He rolled the name around on his tongue. "Very nice. I like the sound of it. And I am looking forward to hosting you at my ranch this weekend so we can discuss an enormous project for which I need an excellent architect." "Well, then. I think you've came to the right person."

“What are you talking about? Dante’s killer is dead.” “Yes,” he answered quietly, “Mr. Cruz is dead. But there’s more.” I blinked at him, confused. “More?” My father leaned back in my chair, those deep grey eyes studying me intently. “Mr. Cruz wasn’t just anyone. He was X.” For a second, the name didn’t register. Then it hit. X. The name whispered through every criminal circle, the assassin whose contracts left no witnesses. I felt my throat dry. “That’s not possible.”

Victor had been part of it not just by choice, but because of the power his family name carried. Without a word, Victor reached for the nearest bottle and poured himself a glass. “Damn,” said a tall, lean guy with ash-blonde hair and a rolled-up sleeve that revealed a black ink tattoo of a viper coiled around a dagger. His name was Rico Cortez, the unofficial ringleader of the group—and a name whispered often in their little gang society despite his young age. Rico had charm and charisma, but behind that was a violent streak no one dared to challenge.

Kids lining up to buy gum from Charles Hartley for two dollars a pack. I rushed to my locker. Five minutes until the first period. “Yo!” I turned. Mason Drew. One of the few genuinely evil people in my class. Buzz cut. Good face. Around my height—thankfully. He wore a pair of Miles Morales Jordans, my dream shoes. “How was Mexico, my man?” he asked. “I didn’t go this year. Budget.” He laughed. “Dude, you got infinite money.” “I’m not rich. Have you seen my car?”

My body sagged, knees weak. Mia rushed to my side, eyes wide. “Amara, do you even know who that was?” “Some arrogant jerk?” Her jaw dropped. “That was Damian Cruz. The billionaire.” My stomach flipped. My entire life flashed before my eyes. Billionaire? Damian Cruz? As in Cruz Holdings—the man who owned skyscrapers, shipping lines, hotels? Perfect. Just perfect. I hadn’t just ruined someone’s morning. I’d ruined a billionaire’s suit. And maybe my life along with it.

Ruscov promised. @cycy

“We’re beginning.” I force my eyes open even without my glasses. My lids are heavy, as if a winter sky presses them shut. The circle is carved into the earth, old as the trees. Symbols crawl along the stones—knots and crescents and lines that flare with the color of blood when the flames lick them. The ropes at my wrists tighten and drag, an animal’s leather, wet with something warm. Someone is kneeling just outside the ring, hood back. He looks like the countryside—scarred, sun-leathered, a grin too wide for decency. It's Victor Cruz.

I was wrong. “Yes, but–” I was cut off when Ricco gave Nikolas a machete. No. “You may think the interaction was harmless and maybe it was. Baby, Carlo knew what he was getting himself into when he touched you like you were his bitch. Now he’s crying like a figo.” (figo - pussy)

He took over his father, Nicofero Rivera at the age of eighteen, and now, by twenty four, has expanded the family's territory to half of America. He is considered one of the most capable 'Dons' in Rivera history, rivaled only by Salvatore Rivera of the 1960s. His grandfather. I switched the laptop off when I heard Mariano's steps come toward the room. I knew what I wished to know anyway. He opened the door softly, expecting me to be asleep, but smiled as he took in my state. "Find anything of consequence?" He asked as walked to his closet. I shook my head. "Nope. I didn't even Google. I was just checking my emails." I lied.