Explore the workings of criminal masterminds in Killer With A Heart, a captivating action and suspense novel. In this heart-pounding tale, you will be taken to the feisty and intriguing world of the mafia. Discover the exhilarating turn of events as gangs struggle to rise up to power, a mafia boss craves for a beautiful sexy firebrand and an upcoming mob war unleashes hell’s fire on the streets of New York. An intoxicating must-read that will keep you hanging on the edges of your seats, this work features a dark, dangerous and deviant setting in which everything is not what it seems.
A raw in your face story of teenage love, lust, murder, and revenge set in the Bronx in the early seventies, where the cold business world of organize crime melds with the brutality of street gang warlords that ignites a winner takes all battle for underworld control.
Nicky ‘Nails’ Rocci’s gang is thick as thieves, but stealing mob money leads to murder. However, failing to kill Morris ‘Mojo’ Johnson is a costly mistake for the Banoa family that adds to Morris’ mystique.
Maria Marino is a bewitching beauty, a sexy firebrand that has captured the heart of the feared warlord, Morris.
Joey Banoa’s lust for Maria, Morris Johnson’s desire for vengeance, and Nicky’s aspirations to lead his gang to the top of the criminal scene will ignite a mob war and unleash Hellfire on the streets of New York.
Mafia Book Portrays the Deviant Face of Sex, Drugs and Violence. With an eclectic blend of romance, deception and seduction set in the elusive and complicated world of mob rule, this story leads one out of the complacency of ignorance and sets awareness on what truly goes on in an unconventional world, where money, power, and vengeance become the ultimate dictator of human survival. Employing a fascinating set of diverse characters, this story reflects how interracial influences come into play in a setting where connections and alliances are put on high regard. This work shows how people of different backgrounds can come together for a common goal, demonstrating how they forge a true friendship at a time when interracial relations were taboo.
A Hundred Friends
The sun is rising in the cloudless pale blue sky when I stop for a moment in front of my house and think about climbing through the bathroom window over the back porch; but I really don’t want Mom seeing me like this, and I definitely do not want to explain how I escaped a mob hit squad, or why. Instead, I decide to keep going and hang out at the Raven until I have a good story to tell her. Besides, the way my sides throb I don’t think I can climb onto the back porch. I probe my left side gently; it hurts like hell but I don’t think the ribs are broken. I run my tongue around my teeth and find the hole at the back on the right where my tooth used to be. Those guys tossed me a pretty good beat-down.
The Raven Social Club is locked up tight. Even the back door on the first floor hallway of the three-family house is padlocked. I slide down the cement wall of the Old Lady’s house on the corner across the street from the Raven. It’s our usual hangout opposite the deli, when we are not in The Raven shooting pool and drinking.
Sitting on the sidewalk with my back against the wall feels
good. I slowly begin picking morsels from the French roll I took from the bread bag as I walked past the deli. I hadn’t realized until I pop that first piece of bread into my mouth how hungry I am; haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. I get like this in the summer, especially when it’s hot. And even though it is only the first week of June, the temperature is already in the nineties and that is unusually hot for New York. I close my eyes and let the sunshine melt the pain away and clear my head of any thoughts. There is nothing but the red glow of the inside of my eyelids.
Blackness interrupts the crimson haze in my head momentarily. My eyes dart open, I instinctively spring to my feet, and reach around my back for the 007 switchblade.
“You’re one jumpy jungle bunny,” says Nicky Rocci. “But I guess you would be from the looks of you. Black eye, swollen jaw, some nasty black and blues… Well, blues on your sides,” he continues while holding my leather jacket open.
“You look like you had a rough night too, you whop cocksucker,” I reply, sliding back down to the sidewalk. “Who worked over your face, Nails?” I call him Nails partly because his family is in the construction business and he likes to tell everyone that he can chew nails and spit bullets. He is sporting a black eye, busted lip, and his nose looks like it was moved around his face a bit.
“My Dad wasn’t too happy about the job we pulled on the
Deli Man. Let me get a piece of that bread.”
“Get your own,” I say. “And while you’re over there, grab a couple of quarts. I know the Deli Man won’t mind.”
Nicky Nails disappears into the alley that leads to the back of the deli and comes out with two quarts of Budweiser then reaches into the big brown bread bag and pulls out an Italian loaf. As he crosses the street I notice a slight limp, probably got stomped on too.
“So, why did you tell him about the Deli Man? I thought we all agreed to keep our mouths shut. No matter what!” I ask as I shade my eyes and gaze up at him.
“I didn’t tell him anything. It seems the Deli Man is more connected than we thought.”
“Not, we thought,” I correct, “You thought. You said he was a small time numbers guy. Easy pickings.”
“Well, MoJo,” Nicky sits down beside me.
He calls me MoJo, which is short for Morris Johnson, and after the lyrics in the Doors song, ‘L. A. Woman’. I love that song, play it all the time.
“Not only is he more mobbed up than I thought; he was paying my family to keep his bank here. Naturally, when we hit him, he complained to my father about not protecting his money. My dad asked me what I knew.”
“And you bitched up!”
“Does it look like I talked?”
I take a long deep swig of cold beer.
Nicky continues, “We saw Deli Man’s guys grab you. I guess you kept quiet too.”
“Of course I did; we wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. He was going to keep on beating me until I gave him the answer he
wanted. That’s when he found out about Elizabeth and me, and went fucking ape shit.”
Nicky shakes his head, “I told you fucking his daughter was a bad, bad idea. She talked, didn’t she?”
“No.” I pause for a moment, as my mind jumps back to Deli Man’s kitchen, “Elizabeth was in the hall crying. Deli Man looked at her, and said something in Italian, which I didn’t understand. Her mother dragged her off down the hall. I thought he told her to get Elizabeth out of there. But a few minutes later her mother yelled ‘mignotta’, which I did understand, ‘whore’. She must have given her the old Virgin Finger Test. Deli Man forgot all about his money, and told his men to kill me.”
“Yeah, well, I told you, if you fucked his daughter he would kill you.”
“But at least he stopped beating on me.”
“Wait a second,” Nicky has a surprised look on his face. “If he told his guys to kill you, how are you here?”
I am about to answer when a black Ford Fury jumps the curb and screeched to a stop, its bumper inches from our faces.
Detects. We know who they are, Fitzpatrick and Mancotti, or
Batman and Robin as we call them. They grab us by the shirt, well, me by my leather jacket since I’m not wearing a shirt, and shove us into the back of the car. No one says a word, not the two cops, not Nicky, and definitely not me. They drive a couple of blocks up to East Tremont and then down a little side street that dead-ends at the train tracks. It’s a secluded place where junkies come to shoot up or do other deeds that one won’t do in public. They get out of the car and walk back up the street a bit, leaving Nicky and me locked in the back.
Nicky and I look at each other; knowing we are both
thinking the same thing. Either this is an open mike trick, or we are being setup for a hit. I am leaning more towards the former. It’s an old cop ploy. Leave a couple of suspects in a room with a hidden microphone or tape recorder and wait for them to turn on each other. It works just as well in the back of a police car, but Nicky and I are not about to fall for that. We sit in absolute silence. And if they are going to turn us over to the mob it will be just as easy to do, as it is really early in the morning and no one saw us get picked up. But then they would have been here waiting for us already. In my mind, there is no doubt this is the open mike bullshit, so all we have to do is sit here and be quiet. They will eventually get bored and cut us loose.
Fifteen or twenty minutes pass and the two detectives get
back in the car. We smile at them. We are not some scared little school boys afraid they are going to tell our mommies on us.
Nicky says, “If you are finished playing games, you can drop us off back on the corner, our beers are going flat.”
“Shut the fuck up!” yells Mancotti. “You boys will be lucky if you see the light of day again.”
The car rips up the street in reverse and spins around at the intersection. They flip on the siren and speed down East Tremont Avenue again, catching the attention of the few people waiting at the bus stop. Thankfully, there are some people on their way to work this early Saturday morning already. We race through the street until we get to the police station, where we are summarily marched upstairs, not in handcuffs mind you, and into individual cells. They push us in and slam the doors shut behind us. It’s dark and stinks of urine and shit but there is also a long and narrow metal bench opposite the door. I sit on it then lie on my back; I am finally going to get some sleep.
Almost complete darkness greets me when I open my eyes again and I lie there staring at the ceiling. ‘This has been one long fucked up day,’ I think. Hell, it’s been one long fucked up month, as it has been just about that long since Nicky told us of his plan for robbing the Deli Man. May, second, to be exact.
Killer With Three Heads is the second book in the Killer series. Bulletproof Morris ‘Mojo’ Johnson returns to New York as John Morrison after a 10 years’ absence to find the people responsible for kidnapping his daughter, Maria. He had been recruited by the NSA to train commandoes to fight the War on Drugs in Columbia. Will what he’d been doing in the past decade cost the life of his little girl?
The Rocci Family is the most powerful Mafia family in New York and Nicky ‘Nails’ is about to replace his father as the head of the New York Mafia. His ties to the street gangs are strong and even though he hasn’t seen Morris in four years, since he disappeared in Columbia in 1980, the two are still thick as thieves.
Nicky’s power is being challenged by the Chicago Mafia who is trying to split the New York families and take control. Against Nicky wishes, Mojo has sent gang members to set up shop in Chicago, a move that threatens both the New York and Chicago Mafia. The pair knows FBI agent, Tom Green, is behind the kidnapping of Maria, they don’t know if Tom Green is working for the Chicago mob or the Government, as both would benefit.
Where Killer With A Heart took you into the dark world of organize crime and street gangs, this story takes the reader around the world to the very seats of power in Caribbean, Aruba and the Bahamas; into Columbia, Venezuela, the Baltic, Afghanistan and Egypt; and here in the U.S.A. – New York, Chicago, and Washington D.C.
Killer With Three Heads is an explosive, sexy, world-wind thriller that keep you wondering how far is too far. What kind of people would start a war with the most dangerous man alive? What will Bulletproof ‘Mojo’ Johnson do to get his daughter back safely? And what will happen if he doesn’t?
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A native New Yorker, born and raised in the Bronx, James L Hill spent his adolescence years in Fort Apache, the South Bronx 41st precinct during the 60’s, a time when you needed to have a gang to go to the store. Raised on blues, soul, and rock and roll gave him the heart of a flower child. Educated by the turmoil of Vietnam, Civil Rights, and the Sexual Revolution turned James into a gladiator. Realizing the precariousness of life, he took on an adventurous outlook trying anything once, and if it did not kill him, maybe twice.
12 years of Catholic education and a couple of years in college spread between wild drug induce euphoric years, which did not kill him, produced an unique moral compass that swings in any direction it wants. A scientific mind and a spirit that nothing is impossible if you want it bad enough guides his writings. He enjoys traveling to new places and seeing what life has to offer.
With little other interest outside the bedroom, and still a hopeless insomniac, he is free to pound out plots. Killer With A Heart is the first in a series for Bulletproof Morris ‘Mojo’ Johnson and Killer With Three Heads continues the saga. James writes crime stories (as J L Hill) and science fictions, with a slant on the dark side of life. He recently penned, The Emerald Lady, the first in the fantasy Gem Stones Series is coming soon.