Gangster Boondocks Novels & Stories

“You think I care about your difficulties? You think the streets wait for men who stumble?” His eyes locked with mine. “I—I have something. Not all, but—” He fumbled with a drawer and pulled out a bundles of cash, pushing it across the table toward me. Pathetic, barely a fraction of what he owed. I didn’t even touch it. “You insult me,” I said softly. “Please, Don Fernando, I’ll get the rest. Just… give me more time—” I tilted my head, studying him. “Do you know how many gangs want this territory? How many have already come to me, begging to buy it off your corpse?”

As a response, Lizzy bolted the door. "The chief wants to see you in his office," the man repeated when she refused to come out. A moment later, Lizzy opened the door, and both of them headed to Greed's office as instructed. Upon arrival, she found him seated behind his desk, surrounded by documents and high-quality liquor bottles. However, what surprised her was that Greed, with his disheveled hair, open shirt, revealing part of his chest, and a glass of whiskey in his hand, didn't fit the image she had of him at all.

She untied her apron and told Jake to bring the car around. Stocks and Bonds was exactly what the billboard promised: a woman in fishnet stockings and a police cap holding a whip. Jake talked them past the bouncer at the door. Inside: red strobe lights, cigarette smoke, three gilded cages suspended from the ceiling with dancers swaying to Guns N' Roses. Rodney was at the bar, watching a door marked Wall Street with apprehensive eyes. "He went in over half an hour ago," Rodney said, not looking at either of them.

“I haven’t killed a man in months.” Stewart gave me a knowing look. “I know you, Damien. And besides, this isn’t about murder—it’s about gangs. This neighborhood is clean. The people here are rich socialites. I’m not sure they wouldn’t like the idea of seeing guys with tattoos and guns walking around, disturbing their peace.” I rolled my eyes. “Fine.” I signed the papers, and Stewart took them with a satisfied nod. “Thank you,” he said, tucking them into his folder.

I needed to play the part. “He took me and he kept me in this dark room for so long.” I said in my emotional tear-filled state. “I wasn’t sure if I was every going to see you or our son again.” “I’ll leave the two of you alone.” The doctor said as he walked out of the room. The man, Alfonso Gambino, I recalled him from the pictures, stood up and hugged me, holding me carefully, comforting me. He was so gentle that for a minute there I wondered if he was even a dangerous gangster like what I was made to believe.

She cried out when he went down and continued giving Liam several heavy punches on the face, one of the female staffs who witnessed what was going on rushed outside and over to where one of his gaurds was standing, letting him know what was going on. Immediately the guard rushed inside where he found alex still cursing and punching liam, his bodyguard got behind him and pulled him off the man " boss that is enough, you are going to kill him" Eyes filled with rage he stared at Liam who was lying defeated on the ground with swollen eyes and bleeding nose " You are a guest in my father's party, I don't care if you are the son of his best friend, you have the nerve to attack who iam with? Nobody

She yelled in pain as it dug deeper into the wound. “So would you like to talk?” I asked but she refused, still crying hardly. I sighed, getting up to pocket my gun before Picking her up by her hair. I began dragging her behind me like trash as I walked out. *** *** *** *** *** *** It's just like the name: Dark, shadowy and Hollow. Death's Cage was the fear of every mobsters here and Some would prefer to be killed than spend even a minute in there. I took her to the changes front and Let go of her hair immediately.

I asked with a calm expression. “Do they need a reason to?” he asked with a question, and without waiting for my comeback, he continued, “They are gangsters, of course, they would want to look for the drugs, given the fact that most syndicates depend on such thing to survive.” He added, Shocked, “Really, that’s your conclusion?” I asked him. “Well …” he signed impatiently, “Yes,” “Ugh! Then I guess you’re stupid,” I blurted out,

Dante I walk up to a shuttered bodega. Pieces of the paper sign flap in the wind, declaring that I can get “sacks” and “dinks” inside. New York City flows around this abandoned piece of itself, not even glancing at it. Perfect. I slide into the alley beside it, unlock the chain on the back door, and step inside. Tony and Cal Duncan stand in the flickering light of the ex-backroom, now lined with knives, cattle prods, ropes, and any other torture instrument a Saint has come up with in the last decade.

“These . . . things . . . are creatures of the night, of the dark. They don’t like the sun very much.” “Done a deal with the Major and that lunatic Papa Nightmare, haven’t you, puta de mierda?” snarled Fernández. “Look,” said Gallow quickly. “Bad shit is heading your way, right now. Cut a deal. After Jonesy fucked us with the armored car heist, I cut a deal. I’m still sucking in oxygen and will be for years. I have a restaurant to think about. Think about your future. The writing is on the wall, guys. Between Papa Nightmare and the Major, the little guys are being squeezed out of the racket. You know what a ruthless bastard the Major is! We’d be sitting at the bottom of the bayou stuffed in