Gay Gangsters Novels & Stories

"Who the hell are you guys? This is our patch. You need to leave now. Old men like you have no business here." The leader of the gang was Robert Sims. He was a street rat since he was small. He was an orphan as his parents had died when he was a baby. So he grew up on the streets and took it as his right to be the 'Billy Badass' in this area. He made his living off the people who had the bad fortune of running into him on the open streets.

I knew fuck all about that shit and the sheep weren't given to such things, not that I would ask them, I'm not that fucking clueless. "That run we were supposed to make, I'm gonna need you and the boys to take point on that, shouldn't be too much trouble, I'm sure you can handle it just fine without me." "The cartel?" Or so they like to call themselves. What they were are a bunch of lowlifes who'd watched fucking Scarface once too often and thought they were fucking gangsters. They were a motley crew of fuck-ups made up mostly of ex-criminals who thought they got a bad rap, not because they were innocent but because they'd been caught.

The tattoo made him a member of the feared gang, Gongbay. Gongbay was a gang with its octopus feet each in every illegal trade, drugs, prostitution, human trafficking, smuggling, money laundering, and several other poisonous fruits growing on the branches of the tree named Bay transport company. It started initially as a cargo transporting company but slowly came out to be the most powerful gang in the country. "Is this fellow here not on the guest list?" he asked blowing a shiver through the body of Bryce and Rever. Oriel saw the tattoo on his chest and spun her mind to recall the meaning behind the sign. Bryce felt the scowl of his narrowed down eyes on his neck and gulped the moisture dow

a man among them commented and they all laughed more. As far as Anthony was aware, they were the gangsters of Manhattan who lived alongside the Hudson river. They were famous for all the crimes and illegal dealing. They were the people who used to rape, gamble, steal and involve in all kinds of prohibited crimes including target Killing and kidnapping. Police didn't had authority over them because it was said that they were controlled under some Italian Mafia. "Yes" he whispered to himself and closed his eyes.

After the meal, we walked back along the highway, and we gradually talked more and more. I realized that he had run off alone to pick up an order for the goods to fulfill his promise to me. And then he was caught. There were countless gangs in New York. Each gang had its own established territory and business. But there were two businesses that all the gangs were afraid of, namely the firearms and drugs business. They were controlled by the big shots. On a day-to-day basis, those arrogant gang bosses on the street were cautious when it came to those two businesses. Without special permission, no one dared to touch them.

My hands clench into fists. I let him off too easily that night. Gio nods, keeping his gaze on his screen. “No problem. We'll find him.” “E lo rovineremo.”(And we'll ruin him.) Lorenzo echoes, his jaw clenched. A smile tugs on my lips as I stare at my Brothers. The four brothers of Lupi Di Sicilia. Wolves Of Sicily. Our gang name runs high in Chicago and we’re known not to be messed with. But some gangs still like to test us out. Much to their doom.

Shayan's jaw was clenched tightly, his face a mask of cold determination. Though his expression remained blank, internally, he was like a volcano ready to erupt. The sight of the guns in the goons' hands didn't intimidate him; after all, he led a powerful gang himself.

But to them, my silence was as good as a confession. "Nothing to say now, huh?" Antonio weighed the bottle in his hand, a cruel smirk spreading across his face. "Pretty soon, we're going to strip you down and see what tattoos you're hiding. The mafia loves their crosses and their saints. I bet you're no different." In less than ten minutes, the roar of motorcycles echoed from beyond the yard. The front door flew open with a kick, and five thugs with dyed hair and tattooed sleeves barged in. "Boss, where's the guy?"

However, what I saw there was different this time. ​ Seeing Gwen and Stacy made me astounded. There was a scratch on Gwen's face whilst a band wrapped around Stacy's arms. Beside them are six men who have a bunch of tattoos all over their arms and a big fat tummy. ​ Gangsters? ​ Fear crawled to my skin the moment I saw them. Stacy saw me, and she didn't plan on letting me go. Meaning, I was the target. ​ “Bitch!” I heard her curse loudly enough for me to hear.

They all had their jackets open, hands near guns, and expressions carved from years of vendetta. Crates stood there like broken teeth, jagged and hollow. A few still smoked faintly, like they’d picked up the habit from the men now circling them. Gangsters muscled around them in slick shoes, equipped with bulletproof egos. They stood around in the ash like altar boys at a cermon, but with worse manners and better trigger fingers.