Rusty James Novels & Stories

Rasmus lightly shook his head in negative. "You think you'll get a..away after killing me?" Richard spoke with difficulty as he wheezed for air. Rasmus paid no heed to him. His sole attention was on Catherine. "You're giving him an easy death. I have prepared something special for him." Rasmus said as his eyes darted towards the other door which opened and a huge guy emerged out of it. He was a black guy. Tall and all muscular. He looked scary with a scar running from his eyebrow to his jaw.

She spoke tauntingly making my mouth left ajar in shock and embarrassment…. James Russo! You are going to be fucking death of me!!

It has not been taken care of recently. I looked at Ryan standing behind the door. He is wearing his Khaki color suit. He preferred his dresses a little loose unlike Alexander whose body is hugged by the piece of fabrics which reveal all the shapes of muscles bulging out perfectly. It made me think of that same body which is a little thin and has many scars now. I forced myself not to think of them anymore. They are melting me now. Ryan looked at me and smiled while setting his collar.

She said it would ruin her progress in training. She even met a new guy today, Robby. He works at the bakery and also teaches music at the primary school. He was handsome…not as handsome as Azraiel of course, but handsome in a cute chocolate boy kind of way. He has dark sandy blonde hair and swoon worthy blue eyes...and most importantly, he didn’t make a face when he spotted her drooling over the chocolate truffle pastries.

James took no offense and instead chuckled, “I'm just tired.” "Tired? Are you stupid or something?” Riley retorted, getting annoyed. “I'm tired of the insults,” James said in a soft tone. Riley did not reply it. James winced as his broken leg hit a rock as they walked over the rocks. Riley suddenly turned his head and glanced at James' leg which was not bleeding but seemed to be dangling. Without even examining the leg, Riley had already guessed that James' right leg was broken.

When he saw me, he put his tools down and came to meet me. “Good afternoon, Ben.” “Good afternoon, alpha Ridian. It’s good to see you out here.” “I thought of having a tour around and getting to know some of your guys. I heard one was involved in a fight today.” “Oh, you mean James. He did not fight. He only saved that girl from being beaten to death. My men are good and they try to follow the rules.” “That’s good. Which one is James?” “He’s the one carrying a bag of rock salt crystals to the track.”

I won't die. Barnett James was lying. He had been disfigured after being splashed with so much sulfuric acid. But if given another chance, he would still choose to protect Cassie. 'Don't worry. I will cure your back. I promise you will be the same as before.' Barnett James might have sustained some injuries, but he was still a proud man. 'I don't care. It's not a big deal for a man to have some scars on my back.'

I tucked the gun into my waistband and walked toward the warehouse in silence, every sense on high alert. My ears picked up the roar of an engine. A black car sped past me, leaving the site. I dove into the shadow of a rusty pillar. My heart was pounding, but my breathing was steady—at least on the outside. Inside, a war was brewing. As I got closer to the entrance, a voice echoed from within. It was firm, impatient, and sounded like it was on a phone call. “It’s that idiot Ravi’s fault.” It was James’ voice. Clear, firm, dripping with that repulsive, cynical sarcasm. “That arrogant bastard let his guard down, and that’s why he got stabbed.”

Shawn is back to rubbing circles on the inside of my wrist, “Don’t you dare give him anything, Rosie.” “Yeah, Rosie,” James mocks, “His life is worthless anyways. Shawn Pierce. Son of two addicts. Made it three seasons in the NFL before having to retire,” James uses his free hand to grip Shawn’s shoulder, twisting, “Indefinitely, it seems.” Shawn lets out a pained grunt through gritted teeth, and the tears I’d been holding back spring to life. “Stop,” I whimper, “Please.” James’ hand is swiping away my tears, “Don’t cry for him. He didn’t appreciate you, baby.”

He chuckled to himself as he sat in his office, thinking that Bandit finally got his wish. A knock fell on the open door and Jake looked up. “Yes?” “It’s time, Prez,” Weasel said. In the parking lot in front of the bar, they all mounted their bikes. Weasel picked James up and settled him on the bike in front of him. He’d gotten his own vest, the name ‘Grim’ stitched to the chest and ‘Blood of Wrath’ on the back. It was a struggle to get him to take it off, but on the inside, Jake was proud that James had accepted club life so easily.