Jackson Underworld Novelas e Histórias

As two white men grabbed hold of Chris-Jackson, I could recognize Antonio Mancini although looking way younger as he watched the Black Jackson forced off his seat and pushed outside the Suits Bar by the two men. Christopher Jackson tried struggling with the two hefty guards but this only lead to their giving him more punches. The Black Jackson left Suit Bar, leaving behind the money offered him by Mr. Hudson as he greatly felt cheated and really wanted a form of Vendetta against the dance empire. Mr. Hudson immediately made a phone call to the king of the streets, the Ghost, urging him and his gang to keep an eye on the Black Jackson and give him feedback on where he goes, whomever he speaks

And completely full of shit. Out of the four of them, Logan and Enrique are probably the easiest to read — not that they’re an open book, more like … heavily redacted files. Ilkay hides behind logic. And Jackson? Jackson is a steel vault with cheekbones. He drops onto the couch, long legs stretched across the coffee table like he owns gravity — which he likely does — thumbs flying over his phone. Probably mobilizing an army. Or hacking into something illegal. Or both. I sink into the armchair and sip my coffee carefully, wondering if maybe my so-called curse is finally boomeranging. They say karma is a bitch. And apparently, she found my address.

"Price?" "Hundred thousand per unit. Minimum order of ten." "Tell him yes. But I want them routed through a different port. Not New York. Too much heat right now with the FBI task force." Dimitri pulled out his phone, made a note. "Use the Norfolk connection. Ship them as industrial equipment. Standard protocol." "Yes, sir." Marcus stepped back. The parade continued. Tommy Rizzo, gambling and loan sharking. Brought in numbers from underground poker rooms, sports betting operations, high-interest loans to desperate people who'd never climb out of debt.

Or sharing what his world was truly like. Jaxon Deverioux… the King of the Underworld here in the city. The one that ran the crime, especially the gambling dens my father frequented. I just wished he'd fu*k me already… I was opening my mouth to say exactly that, my mind spinning. "Jax—"

“Let me tell you something. The other day, my colleague and I went to Cat Lane to have an interview. I saw that Jackson was accompanied by his paramour, Ella Pearson, at Cat Lane. Do you know why they would be there?” Yvonne was startled. She had heard of Cat Lane from her uncle. Back then when her mother was still young, she used to live there with her uncle. Wesley told her that bustle of Cat Lane was not ordinary chaos. There were not only poor people living there but also many gangsters. They would kill people, set fires, and even sell smuggled drugs. Fiona’s mother, Susan Lowe, was also brought up from that place. ‘But why is Jackson there?’ She could not think of the reason for it. But

"I'm busy with something." "Right, so there's been a few hindrances," Marct said, standing up from Jackson's lap and walking over to me. "I just had a report from my guys. Someone has been following Jackson in the last week," I fought the urge to gasp and kept a straight face, while my heart picked up. "Two people, to be exact. They're from another Mafia. The Scorpios," Marct placed his iPad right in front of me, showing a picture of a man walking across the screen, wearing all black, with a cap covering his face. Right at the back of his left hand was a tattoo of a scorpion. "Do you recognise it?"

Jackson quickly said, "Yes, sir! This Makson fellow." After hearing Jackson's explanation, George turned to Howard and relayed the message. Essentially, this Makson fellow was one of the most infamous gangsters in the Western Precinct who hundreds of men working for him. He was also the owner of various entertainment centers all over the precinct. Although he was a notorious man, he had someone else backing him up, and that person was none other than Eaden Wafer, one of the three most malicious gangsters in Willoughby!

[Leo’s POV] “This the place?” Jackson asks me as we pull up in the place where the blue-haired bastard’s phone was pinging. “But isn’t it…” “Beneath,” I growl, parking and hopping out of the car. “They’re using the city’s underground tunnel system.” For a moment, Jackson doesn’t respond as he considers what I have told him, and when shock flashes in his eyes, I almost want to kill him. “So that’s how they’ve evaded you for an entire day.”

Smith. Mike Smith is one of the biggest shots in the city and a well-known gang boss. He runs a chain of illegal businesses in the city, one of which is a whore house. The reason he hates Mr. Jackson with passion is that he ruined his business sometimes back. Mr. Jackson’s late wife, Mrs. Sarah Jackson, was the love of his life but was unfortunately in love with Mr. Jackson. For years he held grudges against him and wanted more than anything to ruin their life.