ABOUT THE BOOK
i HIT: The Lifestyle People Are Dying to Live
(Residual Risk, Book 1)
By Rick Alexander
|
Damon is a normal man, with a wife, a child, and a love of hunting. He also happens to be a hitman at the centre of a never-ending gang war. From Italian crime families moving coke across the border to Polish contractors just trying to stay above water, the players are in this to win and the stakes are life and death. Everyone has a different point of view, and everyone has a way out. The police have a front-row seat to the nightmare that haunts the city, and they’re doing everything they can to catch the killers. While Damon tries to balance work and family, good cops work to track him down.
i Hit, is a fictional story drawn from the real life experiences of a man who was raised in this troubled world. Alexander brings the realism of non-fiction to this invented tale of gang violence and revenge. Readers will be thrilled by the story of how so many seemingly different people end up in violent situations and deadly danger. It’s a new style of fiction that makes the hitman more human, and answers the age old question of what draws someone into a life of crime. |
“The Author has a wide open mind. I’m not sure what happened; Maybe he hit his head while growing up, or he lived next to the Mob and spied on them as a child.”
—John Bryce, Owner of the Drake show lounge and top fuel motorcycle racer
“I clearly pictured the scenes, it felt real.”
—Rick Alexander, Sr., President of the Devils Army M.C.
Buy Your Copy Now!
Rick Alexander's i Hit: The Lifestyle People Are Dying to Live, is available to purchase from these and most major online retailers.
GREAT NEWS; you can skip shipping and handling! Go into your local Indigo or Chapters and find it on the shelf.
GREAT NEWS; you can skip shipping and handling! Go into your local Indigo or Chapters and find it on the shelf.
Book Details
480 pages
5 x 8 inches
Black & white
Distributed by Ingram
Produced through FriesenPress
ISBNs:
eBook 978-1-5255-7848-9
Paperback 978-1-5255-7847-2
Hardcover 978-1-5255-7846-5
Category: Fiction, Thrillers, Crime
Keywords: Gangs Fiction, Hitman Hero, Cocaine Story, Italian Mob Novel, South Asian Mob, Multiple Points Of View, Canadian Crime Novel
480 pages
5 x 8 inches
Black & white
Distributed by Ingram
Produced through FriesenPress
ISBNs:
eBook 978-1-5255-7848-9
Paperback 978-1-5255-7847-2
Hardcover 978-1-5255-7846-5
Category: Fiction, Thrillers, Crime
Keywords: Gangs Fiction, Hitman Hero, Cocaine Story, Italian Mob Novel, South Asian Mob, Multiple Points Of View, Canadian Crime Novel
Book Excerpt
That day, Damon was heading between the gym, the construction site, and the show-home. He spotted the Fuk driving in front of him, three cars ahead. Immediately Damon checked his rear view mirror; it was a mom, with car seats, in a van; that was good, no tail. He shadowed the Fuk, who was in his limited-edition black Cadillac. The last car separating them pulled over to the left lane and they got stopped at a light, with Damon in the blue Corolla right behind the Fuk. Damon checked the licence plate to confirm it was him; Damon had memorized the plate a long time ago. Quickly, get out and run over and take the shot. The simple voice urged to him. Damon snapped back. Not now, be quiet, this hit is live.
The Fuk pulled into a coffee shop and Damon continued driving straight, carrying on in the same direction. Damon marked the time as 10:07 a.m. A coffee stop takes four minutes if there’s no lineup, he noted. He took a right turn at the corner and another right into the commercial alley behind the upscale strip mall. He put his hat on as he turned into the alley and then parked beside a dumpster that was empty. No pick up, most likely.
He put his big sunglasses on and stepped out of the car. It was 10:09 a.m. He knew the little mall was usually a busy, trendy place, but being 10 a.m. on a weekday, it was a ghost town. He was walking at a fast pace, but slow enough not to project that he was a cat in the final stage of the stalk. Chill, relaxed arms and body, he told himself. There he is coming out already, dammit I’m too far away. The Fuk was parked right out front, and the parking lot was empty except for the Cadillac and the Explorer right next to him. Should I run? Damon thought in a panic. At that moment, the Fuk dropped the muffin bag that he had been balancing on top of his coffee. Another gift from God, he bent over and put the coffee down to rebalance the muffin on it.
Damon could tell that he had him. It was the perfect place for the Fuk to be shot, bent over. Anyone who heard the shots wouldn’t see the body fall, or see Damon’s arm aiming and swinging down. It might be five minutes before another patron noticed the downed man. With his left hand Damon started pulling his button-up shirt out of his pants, his right hand was reaching to meet the pistol grip that his left hand was presenting, both hands suddenly froze. His left hand let go of the shirt and his right hand casually dropped back to the walking swing. To a bystander it would have looked as though he had an itch, and scratched it. Damon was right on top of the Fuk, but never even stopped or glanced at him. He heard the Fuk complaining to himself.
“This damn muffin is a joke. Why the fuck does she not just get her own food?”
As Damon walked off knowing this day was a bust, he couldn’t believe that an unmarked police car with an officer sitting in it, was five feet from the head shots that were literally under five seconds away. Would that officer have jumped out and started firing, or turned his lights on and called for backup, then jumped out and started firing? Either way, Damon was sure he would have shit his pants at the shock of everything in his life being ruined from not being alert.
The Fuk pulled into a coffee shop and Damon continued driving straight, carrying on in the same direction. Damon marked the time as 10:07 a.m. A coffee stop takes four minutes if there’s no lineup, he noted. He took a right turn at the corner and another right into the commercial alley behind the upscale strip mall. He put his hat on as he turned into the alley and then parked beside a dumpster that was empty. No pick up, most likely.
He put his big sunglasses on and stepped out of the car. It was 10:09 a.m. He knew the little mall was usually a busy, trendy place, but being 10 a.m. on a weekday, it was a ghost town. He was walking at a fast pace, but slow enough not to project that he was a cat in the final stage of the stalk. Chill, relaxed arms and body, he told himself. There he is coming out already, dammit I’m too far away. The Fuk was parked right out front, and the parking lot was empty except for the Cadillac and the Explorer right next to him. Should I run? Damon thought in a panic. At that moment, the Fuk dropped the muffin bag that he had been balancing on top of his coffee. Another gift from God, he bent over and put the coffee down to rebalance the muffin on it.
Damon could tell that he had him. It was the perfect place for the Fuk to be shot, bent over. Anyone who heard the shots wouldn’t see the body fall, or see Damon’s arm aiming and swinging down. It might be five minutes before another patron noticed the downed man. With his left hand Damon started pulling his button-up shirt out of his pants, his right hand was reaching to meet the pistol grip that his left hand was presenting, both hands suddenly froze. His left hand let go of the shirt and his right hand casually dropped back to the walking swing. To a bystander it would have looked as though he had an itch, and scratched it. Damon was right on top of the Fuk, but never even stopped or glanced at him. He heard the Fuk complaining to himself.
“This damn muffin is a joke. Why the fuck does she not just get her own food?”
As Damon walked off knowing this day was a bust, he couldn’t believe that an unmarked police car with an officer sitting in it, was five feet from the head shots that were literally under five seconds away. Would that officer have jumped out and started firing, or turned his lights on and called for backup, then jumped out and started firing? Either way, Damon was sure he would have shit his pants at the shock of everything in his life being ruined from not being alert.