Tomás Novels & Stories

“He’s not stupid enough to involve the police.” “No,” Enzo agreed. “But he’s angry. We caught footage of him speaking with an old dock laborer. One of ours. Retired.” Cassiel’s gaze sharpened. “Who?” “Man's nickname in the underground is Tomás. Used to do the tunnel routes for shipments—before we shut that end.” “Tomás owes me a favor.” Enzo nodded. “Already sent a warning. He swore he didn’t say anything.” Cassiel inhaled slowly. “We can’t afford exposure. Not now.”

I just don’t get why Leo wants a healer. “My brother has a disease,” Vogar dropped his glass on the table. “A disease that turns him into a beast, but takes a huge part of him before setting him free. Leo is dying everyday and has just two months to live if I'm right with my calculation. The only one who can save him is the Omega. But with my bracelet around her wrist, she can’t. Leo is eventually going to die. She will watch him take his last breath - the most interesting part of my plan,” Vogar said so much that I found myself fighting to comprehend.

He asked. "Yeah, he is called Kingsley by the others," I told him and looked over at him. His eyes wondered across the treasure before he curled up on the soft coffin and let out a tired puff. "So you're named Toma huh?" I asked him and looked in at him. "You're a good size for being four," I told him. "Treasure named me Toma," Toma told me. "Thank you. I eat the best of the best. Honey and sugar mostly. Sometimes fish and lamb.... I just got off of DT. I drink lots of milk too." I nodded.

Then a hand went up. “It’s y equals mx plus b.” I turned toward the voice. The guy sitting next to me was Hispanic. Sharp jawline. Curly hair. Blue eyes. Arms like tree trunks. “That’s correct,” Mrs. Payne said. “And your name?” “Marcelo,” he replied. “My name is Marcelo.”

CASSANDRA POV 1 YEAR LATER. "Why can't you send someone else?" I questioned my boss Mateo holding the phone up my ear. "Because you're the best assassin we have to kill this motherfucker, who has been causing trouble for us," Mateo said. "I don't give a fuck how you kill him, seduce him, shoot him in the dick, do what you have to get him" "Fine, so what's the guy's name, and what does he look like," I asked.

_Dominic “What is it, spill it out,” I said impatiently. “Boss, we have company,” Vini said and we both got up from our respective chairs. The man I was with started to walk towards the back window and looked out. “I never got your name,” I said as soon as he turned and looked around. “Nikolai, but you can call me Nic,” he said, looking between me and Vini. Nikolai. He was Russian, but even as I searched in the hazy compartments of my brain, there was no Nikolai.

He turn to Carlos who nodded for him to start. " Uh ... Actually... First of all we would like to welcome you. We appreciate you for coming and ... Uh " " Go straight to the point " Maximo cut in curtly. He pulled his cigarettes from his lips and secure it between his two fingers. " Time isn't by anyone's side " " We need your help " Santana suddenly said. He couldn't keep on with the thought of what would happen if any delay occurs anymore " it's about Konstantin Dmitri " Upon hearing that name Maximo stop smoking. He put his cigarettes out and placed it in the receptacle container.

Miguel felt the shape of the answer settling into place. Don Rafael’s voice was low in his ear: “Tomas is here”. Miguel said nothing. Near the disturbed ground, a small man stood quietly. Tomas. A Bribri tracker from the indigenous villages deeper in the mountains. Rafael had already summoned him the moment Miguel was called. Tomas crouched beside the soil like a man listening to a conversation. He sniffed the broken branch, the disturbed under-foliage. Miguel approached. “What do you see?”

She waved and smiled. Arlo continued, "and this big guy over here is Tom. He'll be captaining the other raft." He motioned toward a tall, well-muscled man with wavy brown hair and a beard. The guy reminded me of Magnum PI. "Tom is from New Zealand and can teach you all sorts of cool Kiwi phrases." "Right you are," Tom said with a very pronounced Kiwi accent and a broad smile.

Mãe smacked the back of Tomás’s head, “Enough! Let them eat in peace, vai.” Just as the word peace left her mouth, a crack echoed in the distance. It was not a pop, nor a firework. It was a gunshot. Then another and another. Everything froze. The noise around the table, the laughter, scolding, the clink of forks dropped. Tomás was the first to react. He bolted up so fast his chair screeched against the floor and stumbled to the front window, pulling the curtain aside with shaking fingers. “Merda...” he whispered. “É o Tigrão.”