Tropical Hit

Death comes in many forms. He comes one day for us all. But hopefully, not with a gun. Live by the sword, you die with a knife in your back. If you have a crew - a good crew - you can postpone the reaper. But if the Hobo Killers come after you, well then, you and your crew are all going to hell. Those monsters have a flawless record. Number one on the hit parade. But when they came after the gentle don, well, that’s where we met them.

Old men. Perhaps outdated men. But, definitely not, men ready for the junkyard. Not by a long shot. Old but far from broken. Men with fire and zest for life. Dangerous, tough, unyielding wise guys. Mob hitmen, some who still have a soul. Fine food and great memories. Dinner with the mob. A real suppertime serenade. Put a bunch of older wise guys in a room with pasta, booze, and cigars, then watch the stories flow. Golden memories of murder and mayhem. Some memories that the Feds got. But most that Omerta never revealed. Sit back, relax.

Tina, Biker’s Coffee, whatever you call it, it’s just as deadly. Crystal Meth. The heartbreaker, life taker, home wrecker - it was hitting the Jersey Shore. Tina had come to town with her kiss of death. The Don wanted us to stop them. We had to finish this. The Don was sending his top man, Johnny Koman, down. But we needed one more guy on this hell ride. A tough bulldog bastard. We needed Sal Bandino. Wise Guys versus Biker Madmen. Hell was coming to the Jersey Shore, and it was up to us to stop it. Two to the back of the head and all.