All posts filed under: Crime


Four Deep | An Excerpt

{ 397-word excerpt } Three-thirty now.  He’s got the four of us waiting with our cocks in our hands, but since I’m responsible for this partnership I’m the one who’s going to get pissed on. At this hour with Mulligan’s now closed we’re lucky we haven’t seen any cops sweeping the parking lot.   I’m sure it’s just a matter time, though.  After another five minutes we finally see the rat bastard’s Monte Carlo pull into the parking lot, then next to my Ninety-Eight where we’re all leaning against it.  I notice he doesn’t switch off his engine. Considering the situation I can’t bother with pleasantries.  “Raleigh, you got our take?” The twitchy bastard hands over a black gym bag from his passenger seat.  “Yeah, it’s all there.” I give the bag to Bert as he hops back into my car so he can do a quick visual.  I bet no more than four seconds go by before he’s humming “mmhm” to himself, which isn’t good news.  “Raleigh, Raleigh, you’re short, man,” He finally says with …


Makin’ a Livin’ Makin’ a Killin’ I: The Company You Keep | A Dribble

{ 50 words } They’re not exactly what you would call your friends.  More like associates.  They come with the profession, the rules – the lifestyle.  They wear expensive suits with black as the base color, matching the iron hidden beneath their suit coats.  Fair-haired women sometimes accompany them, dressed to impress, smiling uncertain smiles. Written: December 29, 2001. Originally published in February 2010 by blink-ink [defunct]. Copyright © 2001 – 2016 by Brandon L. Rucker. All Rights Reserved. | RuckerWrites | @RuckerWrites Amazon | Smashwords


Makin’ a Livin’ Makin’ a Killin’ II: The Other Life | A Dribble

{ 50 words } Sundays, his off day from the job, he is a practicing Catholic. At Mass his wife and young daughters accompany him. He looks over at his darling little ladies; both of them yellow-haired like their mother. He wants to provide a good life for them. And crime certainly does pay. Written: December 29, 2001. Copyright © 2001 – 2016 by Brandon L. Rucker. All Rights Reserved. | RuckerWrites | @RuckerWrites Amazon | Smashwords


Makin’ a Livin’ Makin’ a Killin’ III: For a Day’s Pay | A Dribble

{ 50 words } A man on his knees, begging for his life, mercy, anything as light glints off the pistol aimed at his sweat-beaded brow. Loud, bass-heavy music blares from the stereo as a cloud of smoke from marijuana and crack-cocaine lingers in the air. “Delinquent, again. We’ll have to consolidate your debts.” Written: December 29, 2001. Copyright © 2001 – 2016 by Brandon L. Rucker. All Rights Reserved. | RuckerWrites | @RuckerWrites Amazon | Smashwords


Call of Duty: A Cop’s Tale | An Excerpt

{ 959-word excerpt } Before he made any attempt at action, Officer Bernie Reed sat in his cruiser and waited for Officer Taylor Guerrero to arrive at the scene, which was procedure.  Unlike the police officers seen on most television cop shows, metro patrolmen and patrolwomen rode alone in their department cruisers, yet still partnered up on shared areas of a particular beat.  Also, unlike the cops in those television shows, real cops often do not run sirens blaring with their cherries and blueberries flashing en route to a scene.  The goal was to catch perpetrators, not send the scurrying for safe cover. When Officer Guerrero arrived, she stepped out of her department sedan and met him midway to the sidewalk that led to the urban residence.  Bernie noticed that the morning sunlight had accentuated Guerrero’s half-Latin features—her long, wavy brown hair, caramel skin, and deep brown eyes “As always, perfect timing,” she said. “The art of convenience is a trait that’s inbred in criminals, didn’t you know?” Reed said with more sincerity than sarcasm. …


What It’s Like | A Flash of Dialogue

{ 756 words featuring Jamila and Tommy } I wanna borrow one of your guns. What fo’? Because. You a girl, you don’t need no gun. Yes, I do. No, you don’t. Then neither do you. Whatever, girl. Don’chu have cooking shows or The Disney Channel to be watchin’? You know me better than that. Go help your Ma with the dishes or something. You should know better. I ain’t ever been like that and you know it. I don’t see why not.  You should be more like a girl. I blame your brother for that. Don’t go there. He always wanted a lil’ brother but he got a lil’ sister instead, so he tried his damnedest to make you a tomboy. So why you need your gun? What? What’chu need a gun for? You don’t shoot nobody. Girl, you don’t know what’chu talkin’ ‘bout. Now run along . . . Just a tough guy with a gun who don’t even use it. Wannabe gangsta. Shut up, girl, you don’t know what’chu talkin’ ‘bout.  This …