The Spitfire

My name is Shane Flanagan. Those who know me, and even some who don't, fear me. In my line of work, this is a good thing, a very good thing. You see, I'm a very bad man, bad to the motherfucking bone. I make no excuses for myself. I would stomp a motherfucker just for fun. Well, maybe not so much these days, but when I was younger, yeah. Now I would shoot a motherfucker for stepping on my kicks, and it didn't matter if they were Chucks or Gucci. It all depended on what kind of mood I was in and who's doing the mother fucking stepping. But I digress, as I was saying, people feared me all over this fucking place. So tell me then why this little slip of a girl thought she could mouth off at me and get away with it? Now, this Arianna Rossi is a real pain in the ass, know what I mean? She lived upstairs of this pub that I'd just requisitioned from its previous owner. I needed her place for something else, so she had to go. It's not like I was

What the hell am I gonna do with this girl, she was driving me batty, and that was saying a lot. With two sisters who cornered the market on bitchy, I have my fair share of experience dealing with this shit, but 'Mouth ' took the fucking cake. I've never met anyone like her, neither man nor woman. If she'd been a dude, I would've capped her ass already, just for the aggravation alone. She was one cool customer, too, this one. I know she was afraid, not scared shitless, but she wasn't stupid enough not to appreciate the danger, not to fear me, but she held up well. No one would ever suspect to hear that mouth of hers. When my second lieutenant and brother-in-law Anthony showed up with a hobbling James, I was ready to be done with this shit. Not with her, but with the situation. Her I think I will be dealing with for a long time to come. "You!" the dumb fuck started off on the wrong foot already. Pointing at 'Mouth' with a scowl whi

Way too much attitude in this one! "Listen, there's no catch okay, it's just that you're a young girl alone in the city. I have two sisters. If either one of them were in your position, I would want someone to look out for them. Sure, I could put you somewhere else, but this is the best I could come up with. It's secure, in the best neighborhood in our fine city, and it's close to the club you'll be working at." Quick thinking there, Flanagan, that sisters angle was fucking inspired, plus total bullshit, those two crazy broads could take down a motherfucker with sheer bitchiness alone. Just let her buy this shit so I can get her moved in as soon as possible. What about after you've fucked her and grown tired of her as you inevitably always do? I'll cross that fucking bridge when I get to it. She can be moved out as easily as she's moved in. I've never put a woman up in one of my places before. This was new territory for me; besides, I was

Oh my, he's a caveman mobster, that kiss had my hoo-hah weeping; shit, he was all kinds a good. Damn, if I'd let him know, though. I slid down his body when he was finished assaulting my mouth. Good thing he grabbed me again because my knees were shot. He led me upstairs to his office, poured me a cognac, and sat behind his desk. "What's this?" "Drink it." I shrugged my shoulders; whatever, that shit burned like a mother-fucking bitch. "Who was that jackass you tried to decapitate Tommy Pitera?" "What the fuck do you do study the mob or some shit?" "Among other things." "To answer your question, pain in the ass, his name's James Foster." "Another one, what the fuck is up with these James guys and my ass?" "There's a difference. My little brother is a twenty-year-old kid who doesn't know his head from his ass. This asshole is a mean, vicious piece of shit." "Gotcha, he's a whole other brand a cray, c

My guys pulled into the underground parking garage beneath my building after my security detail ascertained it hadn't been breached. My would-be attackers were roasting their nuts up on the boulevard, good luck with identifying them. I pulled mouth out the car behind me; she seemed no worse for wear for all that she'd been shot at. Crazy lady was acting like it was par for the course. I appeared calm on the outside, but inside I was coldly furious. Stacco was a dead fuck. He'd played his hand and lost, amateur fucker. "You doing okay there mouth?" I checked her over more closely to make sure she wasn't in shock or some shit. "Oh just peachy, tell me again why it makes more sense for me to catch a ride with you than taking a cab? If I knew I would be trying out for a part in A Bronx tale, I would've dressed more appropriately." Did I say this bitch was crazy, certifiable? Where were the tears and recriminations, the screami