Gangster Rosary Tattoo On Hand の小説・ストーリー

Dark, slicked-back hair, a square jaw, piercing blue eyes, and a proud nose… I would have found him gorgeous, were it not for the predatory look in his eyes. His inked fingers house two silver rings on either of his pinky fingers, along with his wedding band, which he is currently spinning with his other hand. I still find it odd that his hands aren’t fully tattooed like most mafia men, and I wonder if his entire body is covered too. I jump out of bed to greet him, and when he stalks over to me with his hands in his pockets and anger blazing in his eyes, I take a step back without thinking. He sees my fear and grins, walking right up to me until I’m pinned against the wall.

As she unbuttoned his shirt, she noticed the tattoo of a horse on his neck which was mostly concealed by his shirt. "This is one of Christopher Stallion's men," she said. "What?" "Look at him," she said, pointing to the tattoo. "That is impossible," the governor incredulously. "My men are all trusted men." "But he has the tattoo of a horse on his neck. It would interest you to know that Stallion has a similar tattoo, and so does every member of his gang. Do you doubt it? I have a tattoo of a scorpion on my back because I am a Black Scorpion. All the members of the gangs have tattoos on their bodies."

He turns to the bartender who came over as soon as he saw us "Get her some girly shit. Light. I'll take whiskey on the rocks" "Hey" "You're not getting drunk on my watch" I'm about to protest when he shows me the tattoo between his index and middle finger. He's trying to distract me but I'll fall for it because I'm curious "It's our tattoo. Only high-ranking members get it. Your father, Angelo, us, and a few guys have it"

“Saturday?” The doctor made a hmm noise, apparently not impressed with this man helping me. No surprise. Doctors were no fun. “How many fingers amI holding up?” Ronan translated. I stared at his other hand resting on his knee, at the tattoos on his fingers in between the first and second knuckles. One was a cross, another a raven. The third, a king of hearts playing card. Ink and déjà vu. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but I couldn’t stop myself from touching him, from drawing an index finger down the tattooed raven. The whispered words were pushed from my depths by an irresistible force.

The gun stayed in my ear. “What?” “I love it when my girls act innocent,” he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips. I looked at the exposed part of his chest. A tattoo. Black ink curled over the left side of his chest. I knew that symbol. Everyone knew that symbol. There had been warnings, articles, whispered rumors. The mark of Giordano's family. I felt the blood drain from my face. “I hope you keep it up when I fuck you so har d—because you’re mine now,” he finished.

“I asked you to keep an eye on her, and the De Lucas, but you try to kill her?!” Wait a minute—this seemed all too familiar… Were they talking about me? Was this a coincidence? “You better pray this doesn’t get our plans ruined,” the one with the cold, menacing tone chided, “else you’d be held accountable.” I squinted my eyes further at the figures, trying to make out who they were, their faces. And a second later, I let out a soft gasp as I recognized the tattoo on the wrist of one of them. Almost every Made Man in the De Luca crime family had that tattoo on their wrists, if not all.

The weight of the moment was palpable, heightened by the realization that the priest standing beside me was none other than Krystallo, the infamous mafia priest known for his merciless acts. My eyes inadvertently drifted towards the cross-shaped tattoo, intertwined with a viper, adorning Krystallo's neck. The intricate design served as a chilling reminder of the countless lives he had taken and the blood that stained his hands. It was a symbol of power and ruthlessness, one that sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened criminals.

“Geez, you look like you’re about to murder someone. You have to relax, bro. I know you have a crush on him and all, but he’s not stripping for the class. He’s just existing. Violently existing.” The guy sitting two seats over leaned across the aisle like they were all in on the same conspiracy. “That’s actually not normal tattoos, guys. That’s mafia ink,” he said, his voice slow and smug. “I’ve seen those before. A dagger-and-rosary combo is classic mafia. The guy’s probably got a rap sheet and a body count. I bet he’s got a private plane parked somewhere with blood money in the cargo hold.” Archer snorted. “You watch too much N*****x, bro.”

I need every calorie for the twins. "Why are you helping me?" I ask him. It’s a question I should have asked in the hold. Salvatore pulls up his sleeve. On his forearm: a tattoo of a rose entwined with a dagger. The Rossi family crest. "Your father pulled me out of a Torrino execution pit in ’98. I owe him a life. You’re the last payment." He leaves the gun magazine on the nightstand. "Learn to reload without looking. You’ll need both hands free soon enough."

I tried to wiggle off but I was stuck. "Thank you, babe." A man stated and placed a kiss onto the woman's cheek. I noticed he had a five-point star tattooed onto his hand. It was a symbol of our rival mafia family. "Stidda." I spat as he turned to face me. "Ah, I was wondering when you would figure it out. Welcome to New Zealand Cuore." He rejoiced and his arms flew open.