Chicano Gangster Letters Novels & Stories

Whoever that bastard was, he had a lot of things coming for him and he would regret it sooner or later. ELENA'S P.O.V The night had been short and it's a clear indication that the day was going to be much longer. Carolina had already left for work and as such, I was left alone in the room. Gathering up my files, a particular document caught my eye. It was a profile on Ciro and from all indication, I haven't read this part since I took the case. Having a thorough glance at it, I was amazed to discover that Ciro once spare headed a gang named the skull, who are presumed to be the most deadliest gangsters in the world. I could only imagine how everyone in his gang would act.

They walked hand in hand approaching his friends, Elizabeth took a glass of champagne from the waiter passing by, she gulped it down . Leo smirked at her " You can't handle the crowd?", He teased. "Leo, not now please, I am not in the mood", she protested. " Do you want me to put you in the mood", he quirked his brow at her. "Fuck you Leo", "You are welcome buttercup", he winked. "Ciao ( hello)", one of his associates approached them. " Ciao(hello) Mr Carson", Leo reply curtly. Carson is an Italian mobster that one needs to be vary of. He can go to any length to get what he wants. He is one of the most powerful mobster so Leo needs to be on his good sides.

“They are mere thugs. They molest the public and extort others. We may be wild, but nobody ever achieved success in the underground mafia society being a saint.” As soon as he finishes those words, the gangster attacks me. He has a tattoo on his forehead and neck, “baby Yahoo” clearly written in italic with worn-out ink. He is chubby and clumsy in his attacks, but his moves are lethal and deadly. He throws punches as if he wants to overwhelm me with rush and adrenaline. The man they put in front of me is built like a wall. Bare chest, scars running across his skin, eyes filled with nothing but hunger for violence.

I gulp as I proceed to read whatever was written on the paper. HAVE YOU HEARD OF THE KRUEGER GANG? I SUGGEST YOU FAMILIARIZE YOURSELF WITH THE KIND OF STUFF THEY DO BECAUSE THAT MIGHT END UP BEING YOUR FATE SOON. THIS IS NOT ABOUT SCARLETT ANYMORE. THIS IS ABOUT MY PRIDE. YOU TWO WHORES HAVE WOUNDED MY PRIDE AND IF THINK I DON'T GET WHAT I WANT THEN YOU HAVE GOT IT ALL WRONG. I HAVE BEEN ALL SWEET AND NICE SO FAR BUT YOU CUNTS CLEARLY DIDN'T GET IT THROUGH YOUR THICK HEADS.

They painted across the night, their strokes huge and furious until the letters screamed visible even from blocks away: BLOOD IS THEIR INK. And below it, in smaller scrawl, a prophecy of their own: RICO IS THE PEN. The city looked up. The bosses looked out their windows. The line between myth and rebellion blurred. The interview was no longer just a confession. It was revolution.

I rolled my eyes. Alfonso was a gangster; mafia would have suited him best but whatever. He was mostly involved in gambling and drug trafficking. He was known to be cold and ruthless. He had gained himself the name, ‘Iceman’, as he would show no emotion while torturing people who wronged him. I couldn’t believe they wanted me to lie to this man.

Debby laughed derisively, "So handsome guys care about other people's gossip too!" Cynthia shook her head helplessly and after sending Debby away, she took the letter out the old way. The paper was much flatter this time than last time, and there was a cheering emoji painted on the envelope, so it seemed he had more time for this time. Still so childish, Cynthia smiled gently and opened the letter ready to read it .Suddenly the door to the study suddenly opened with a creak and a low voice that Cynthia didn't want to hear: "Is this your choice?"

He grabbed my hand, laced our fingers together, and kissed the back of my knuckles. “You don’t look surprised.” I propped myself on the elbow with my free hand. “Lu told me bits and pieces. I want to know where you got these….” I swallowed the enormous lump of emotions blocking my pipes, wiggling my wrist from his hold, and traced the X mark on the Outlaws’ insignia. “... these scars.” “Romero, he’s been working alongside Don Castillo for his own gain,” he said calmly. “The Morales clan wanted to go big with their illegal business, and the mafia has easy access to the black market.”

He said in a deep echoing horrid tone. My face lost all existent colour. How did he know about dad? He is missing since yesterday night. Is it a bad omen signalling something befalling to us. Instead of making another unfavourable movement, she did as asked, crawling towards the room beside the lobby we went inside with guns still pointed at us. “Sit down.” The man who looked like the head of these illicit gangs spoke. I could say he was either ahead or rank above these people because he had a silver brochure with a shiny G letter mounted on it. Probably meaning Gang Leader.

But the gangsters can hear themselves just fine. “Come on. Just a BJ, okay, miss?” the leader asks in a pidgin of Filipino and English, unzipping his dirty jeans. “How about that, huh?” The second man’s suddenly yanked away. And the one threatening Rina whirls around to see Chester standing in the middle of the street. WAMPUS, I NEED YOU NOW… “What do you think you’re doing, kid? Stay away,” the leader warns, brandishing a butterfly knife he has whipped out with a deft movement of his wrist, “if you don’t want me to cut you a faucet.”