Gangster Angel Novels & Stories

“What could be worse than selling her into a trafficking ring? Those men would ravage her whole.” But he only looked at me. He leaned in close, and I felt his minty breath on my face as he whispered, “Nothing those men would do to you could compare to what I will do to you.” And then he stood. “My name is Angelo Armani,” he said. His voice was a deep baritone. “I’m the angel of death.” He looked at me like I was already buried. “And you will be my slave.”

I stammer, each of us entering, pressing the button for the lobby as we did. “Yes you do, you just got all dreamy when speaking of him” chides Angel. “I-” pausing I don’t know what to say as it was true. I did have a thing for Mr. Tall, Dark and Scary. God I’m such a sucker for guys like him. But while I did have a thing for the man I met I knew I wouldn’t be able to act as I was engaged to marry into the D’Amico family and the reason I was currently here with Angel and Caleb, to try and forget that my father had sold me to the top Mafia family in the world.

About to turn around, he heard another gunshot, his eyes went to the culprit. "What?" Angelina shrugged. "I was just disarming him." She made sure to shoot the gang leader's right hand to render him completely incapacitated. Bloodthirsty angel. He continued to walk towards her, without showing his intention, not stopping until he was only a foot from her, he easily hefted her in his arms and carried her bridal style. Expecting her to protest, he held her tightly but she remained supple, and her arms surrounded his neck for purchase.

“More like, what isn’t she on trial for? That Mer broke so many rules, they went through six urchin spines writing the warrant. She’ll be lucky to ever see the outside of a jail cell again—and she’ll be lucky if that’s the worst they do. A pity, but then, I guess what goes around, comes around.” Ginger switched her weight atop her bony legs like a little kid needing a restroom, giving him another come-hither look from beneath her lashes. “Now, had she stacked her karma with good deeds like, oh, I don’t know, doling out scallops, her fate might be different.” He had no clue what the bird was talking about be-yond “jail cell.” They couldn’t put Angel in jail. She’d sacrificed herself for Micha

I'm more than twenty hours away by car, which sucks because I don't know if she has twenty hours. Angelo Gimonde's father is the head of Chicago's largest crime syndicate. Angelo killed the daughter of another mob boss a little over a year ago and then disappeared. I'd hoped their rival organization, the Laterza family, had taken him out. Hiding in bum fuck Montana is most likely the only thing that kept him alive.

He was in his mid-forties, but he feared the mafia boss. “He–he–” “Speak up!” Don commanded. The man tightened his grip on his file while shifting his glasses with his other hand. “Can we have a brief talk in my office?” the man asked in a quaky voice. “I need to hear it here, Doc” “Mr. Gonzalez sustained serious injuries after the dagger pierced his heart. By the time we needed to stabilize him, he had already passed away. I'm sorry.” the doctor explained. “You are sorry for what? That you were unable to save my uncle? The only family I have left?!” Donatello fumed.

"I don't stay here all the time. I travel a lot; I came to L.A. regarding a deal when I first saw you." "Oh. You're full of surprises. But why kill people?" "Hmm... No, I'm a very dangerous person, Angelina. I just like to keep the fear of my name constant in a person's mind. I am a bad person, too bad for someone like you." "Why—" I dreaded asking the question, but continued anyway, "Why don't you leave this behind?" "Leave what?" His gaze snapped to mine, and he replied curtly. "This. The mafia business, or whatever you call it. It's bad, Danzel. Killing is bad. You are not doing any good if you keep killing people, good or bad, it doesn't matter."

As he took slow steps closer to Cordelia with a frown on his face, a young, handsome-looking man came out of nowhere and pulled Cordelia by the arm. “Hi, baby. I’m sorry I took time in the restroom.” The stranger uttered with a grin. Cordelia looked so confused, but as the smart girl she was, she figured out that he was trying to save her. So she didn’t push him away. This stranger was Jared Lambert, a twenty-five year old guy, the son of Sir Luther Lambert, leader of the East America drug cartel, and nephew to El Azul Lambert, the leader of the Colima drug cartel in Europe. El Azul had connections all over Europe and was given almost the same respect as the President.

"Then I'll send one back. Written in blood." I rose from my chair, the scrape of wood against marble echoing through the room. My hand gripped the edge of the desk as I stared at the screen showing the captured hitman, alive but not for long. Nicolas's jaw tightened. "We tracked his movements. He was fast planned to be out of the city within the hour. Professional. But our men have him now. He won't talk, though. Trained, probably South African ties. Definitely hired." "Anyone who tries to hurt my daughter doesn't get to talk," I said flatly.