Ringleader Jacket Novels & Stories

its drive way. Finally, the last glassy and fancy four story and smallest villa had the least number of cars only two Porsches one silver and one blue and a rolls Royce."Can we help you miss?"One of the guards shouted in broken Arabic his face sweating from the heat. He seemed to be foreign because he did not have the average middle-eastern look. He seemed to be Indian.She handed the note to the guard with her sweaty hand, flipping strands of hair from her face with the other. "What's your name miss?" The guard asked looking at her suspiciously."My name is Yasmin," she shyly replied looking down while digging her toe into the gravelled road." Yasmin!" The guard repeated in a mocking tone

I asked as I peeled myself off my chair and headed for the lounge area where I gestured for him to take a seat. He came behind me and plopped himself down. I took in his attire and to be honest, he did know how to kill a cloth! He was dressed in a pair of black tight skinny jeans, blue and white Air Jordans sneakers, and a black leather jacket that had a lot of silver chains. He had at least 4 big rings on his fingers and a Versace scarf which was draped neatly around his neck.

Huge like a mountain and wide like a fucking bulldozer. Tattoos crawl up the side of his neck, his arms, all the way down to his knuckles sporting fat gold rings. I can tell in an instant his jewelry isn’t a fashion statement. These rings are meant to hurt. In lieu of brass knuckles, they’d be a perfect substitute. The third guy is by far the most impressively dressed. Modest silver cufflinks, his hair swept back. His smile is warm and charming, but the wicked glint in his eyes warns me not to be fooled. He reminds me of Uncle Craig, charismatic and bold—deceptively so.

he said. "Dante, we did the rings—" "I know. This is different." He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. The necklace he produced was simple — a dark leather cord, a small silver wolf in profile, oxidized and understated, sitting in his palm like it had been waiting patiently for this exact moment. She looked at it. Then at him.

When those people came closer, Lucia saw their appearance clearly, and a strong despair appeared on her frosty face. The five people in the lead were dressed in black, and each of them had a clear six-pointed star tattoo on the right cheek, which was the symbol of the Tattoo Organization. The leader was a tall, thin and gloomy middle-aged man. He had only one right eye, and his left eye was covered by a black eye patch. His name was One-Eyed Jack, and he was the leader of the Tattoo. Jack was just an alias, and no one knew his real name and background. He was currently the tenth prisoner on the Interpol wanted list.

She stops at the head of the table. “Good day gentleman. You can all stand up. The Boss will be entering now” she says and her voice sounds familiar but I just cannot place where I have heard it before. The Boss enters the room with a black cloak covering his face. He walks around the room and takes the seat at the head of the table, right below the vent where Lilliana and I are hiding. The Boss places his hands on the arm rests and I notice a ring on his left small- finger. Johnny has told me about these rings, he has one just like it. The rings are a symbol of your position and rank as a Mafia boss. This Boss has the same symbol on his ring that Johhny has. It carries the engraving of a fa

Somewhere on the West Coast of the US “He was the one laundering our money, boss,” Ethan placed phone calls and text evidence before his boss along with employee ID, whose back was away from him, looking down at the city. The boss stood inside a tall, high-rise building in his office. His hair was messy; his silky shirt was rolled up to his sleeves, making the veins on his forearms and hand prominent; a light purple vest lay on top of his soft white shirt with two buttons open, and a chain was dangling in his neck. The chain had a little discolored ring tucked carefully inside the human skull. Nobody would think a rich guy would wear a piece of no value closer to his heart, but to him, that

And for the first time in a year, Ross Industries felt like something that happened to someone else, not something I was still carrying around. After dinner we cleaned up together. The ring was still in my jacket pocket, hanging on the back of a chair. I kept glancing at it while washing dishes. Alex noticed. "What?" "Nothing." "You keep looking at your jacket." "I'm admiring it. It's a nice jacket." "It's the same jacket you've had for three years. What's going on?" I dried my hands and pulled the box out of my pocket. Set it on the counter between us.

as I loosen my muscles, and sat on my office chair like a boss, though I am a boss, I am just a co-leader since the King is the leader of his secret organization. A servant came in and walk towards my office table, so I tilted my head the moment that person arrived. The servant informed, "Master Von, the King wanted to talk with you," Ohh, I guess he wanted to talk about what happened last night. I sighed. Then, I just nodded and the servant bowed first before leaving. I took a deep breath before standing and getting my co-leader uniform on. This uniform is similar to the army's outfit, but mine is much more enhanced. Moreover, this has a symbol that I am the co-lead located on my right shou

Since the streetlamps were barely flicking on, lighting up the depressed sight of town, three figures emerged, throwing down their hoods, angry steel blue eyes boring into my own. Of course they'd appear; I was easy bait. The ringleader of the group stepped up, standing at 6 foot 3. He had a vest on that was unbuttoned, the color once light blue but so dirty it had turned gray. He had thick bands of muscle with faded bruises and almost healed scars, hair buzzed near to his scalp. I stared at his face, taking in his crooked nose, a smirk on his face. "Say, oldster, you don't sound too good." he said, taking another step closer to me.