Mafia from New Moon to Full Moon

Bobby DeLuca of the Italian Mafia was sitting at his cluttered desk vigorously finishing up the final paperwork so his grumpy old man could see he was capable of becoming the Alpha of the Mafia. His job was a feisty one, but he made sure every ounce of evidence burned alongside the bodies. Bobby was a ruthless killer; he has no remorse for those that defied the Mafia.

“Bobby, your Father Vincent is looking for you,” Mico, the right hand of Bobby, said coming into his office. He knew Bobby was tired and didn’t want to be disturbed but when Vincent calls, you answer the call or be killed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bobby growled; he wasn’t done, he wasn’t going to be rushed. “I’ll get up in a minute,” he said, scribbling on the paper. “Finished,” he snapped, getting up and pushing his oversized leather chair away from his legs. Bobby glanced at the Grandfather clock, as it hit noon, it chimed.

Mico waited at the door. He knew Bobby was pissed, and he didn’t want to step over anything. Bobby rushed past him. The sooner he gave the paperwork to his Father, the better.

He walked into his father’s office. “Here,” Bobby snapped. “You couldn’t wait, could you, old man?”

His father turned to face him, a look of disgust. “No. You know I can’t stand waiting,” he said, snatching the papers out of Bobby’s hands. He looked down. “A little nicer next time,” he growled, throwing them on his neat desk. “Now sit.”

“For what?” Bobby growled. “You got the paperwork; I need a shower.”

Vincent rushed around the desk, grabbing Bobby by the throat and lifting him in the air. “When I tell you to do something, I suggest you do it,” he growled, throwing Bobby into the chair. “You need to show your respect, remember I choose who is Alpha, and your attitude is showing me otherwise,” he said, walking back around his desk. He took a seat and stared at Bobby for a minute. He was pissed.

Bobby sat up in the chair, rubbing his neck. “Now what?” he growled.

Vincent looked away from him, fishing into his desk drawer. “I have information about a Daughter of yours,” he snapped, throwing the folder at him. “Explain it!” he demanded.

Bobby opened the folder, looking at the pictures. He recognized the woman but didn’t remember her name. “I know her face, but don’t remember her name,” he said, throwing the folder on the desk. “I have no daughter,” he growled. He was growing tired of this already. His body was dirty, and he wanted to sleep.

“Oh, you have a daughter,” Vincent snapped at him. “Do I need to teach you a lesson?” he said, getting up and walking to the other side of the desk, he leaned against it. “My information is correct,” he snapped at Bobby. “You were a careless son of a bitch in New York fourteen years prior. The whore you paid got pregnant. What the hell were you thinking!”

Bobby thought about New York and fourteen years prior. The boys and he went and paid some girls. He was careful. He used protection. “I used protection. Why now?” Bobby said, shaking his head.

“Not.” Vincent smacked him upside the head. “You do realize the DeMarco family resides in New York City. Where you bought your whore,” he said, shaking his head. “You need to get this right, bring the girl here. Hopefully Brenda your whore isn’t with the DeMarco family; otherwise, a new war has started, and you will have to finish this before it blows up in your face. DeMarco is a dirty son of a bitch,” he said, walking to the window. “Get the girl here, and we’ll finish with DeMarco later,” he said without looking at him. “I give you a month to handle this or I’ll take you out,” he said, turning to face Bobby. “Thirty days. Get out!” he growled.

Bobby walked out of the office, leaving the door open. He was pissed. He needed to find Mico and get this started. His father threatened his life. He knew this was serious business. Mico was waiting in Bobby’s office.

“So?” Mico asked.

“I’m pissed,” he said, throwing his wine glass at the wall. “I have a daughter.” He punched the wall. “How the fuck do I have a daughter?”

“Where is this daughter?” Mico questioned. He stayed in the corner. When Bobby got mad, he was crazy.

“New York City,” Bobby said, pacing around the office. Boxes littered the floor, he needed to clean up. “The one whore I paid for got pregnant!” Bobby looked down at his hand. It hurt and was bleeding, but it was expected since he punched a brick wall hard enough to leave knuckle imprints. “My father says I have thirty days, or I am a dead man. Get out!” Bobby growled.

Mico did as he asked, Bobby rarely asked him to leave the room, so he knew this was serious.

Bobby sat down at his desk, pushing papers aside, he found his phone. Dialing a number of an informant he had in the city. “It’s Bobby,” he growled into the phone.

“Long time—how are you?” the man on the other side asked.

“Not good, Geno,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I need you to find Brenda. I don’t know her last name. But she hung around Little Italy. She has a daughter, and I want to know if this is true or not,” he spoke. “I’m coming to New York, once I have a plane ready, but I need answers yesterday.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Geno said before hanging up.

Bobby left his office. Mico was waiting for him by the stairs. “You need to get our plane ready, I need a shower, ten minutes,” Bobby snapped before walking down the hall to his bedroom.

Bobby was ready in five minutes. He grabbed his bag and headed to the plane. Mico was waiting at the door for him. “I called the boys in New York to let them know to expect us,” Mico said, following Bobby up the stairs.

“I called Geno,” Bobby said, sitting down. He pulled out his phone and dialed Geno again. “We’ll be there in eight hours, have a hotel ready when we arrive,” he said, hanging up the phone before Geno could annoy him with any other questions.

Bobby closed his eyes, one of his migraines was creeping up. He didn’t need this, his blood boiled at the thought of having a Daughter, possibly by a DeMarco whore. He knew that a war with NYC would be disastrous. No turning back now.

“Here,” Mico said, handing him some narcotics.

“Thanks.” Bobby snatched them from his hand. He tossed the pills into his throat and drank some water. Closing his eyes, he played this whole situation out. It was either going to be easy, or it’s going to be blood. Knowing Bobby’s luck, there would be plenty of bloodshed.

Mico tapped Bobby on the shoulder. Bobby shook his head, and he opened his eyes. “What?” he growled with fire in his eyes.

“We’re in New York. You slept through the ride. Boys are waiting out,” he said, walking to the door.

Bobby adjusted his shirt. He wasn’t dressed in a suit this time. He wore black jeans and a plain blacktop. He put his shades on, combing his black hair out of his face, he walked to the door. The plane was small, but he didn’t need anything bigger.

Walking down the three steps, Mico waited by a black escalade. Bobby looked at his team, they were perfect. He thought about running the mafia in the states but didn’t like the American culture too much. Mico slid in next to Bobby.

Bobby’s phone rang, it wasn’t a number he recognized. “Yeah?” he snapped in the phone.

“Bobby DeLuca, what gives me the pleasure of you in my country?” the man asked.

“Who is this?” he said, sounding annoyed. His head still hurt.

“Ryan DeMarco,” he said, laughing on the phone. “Don’t you remember me?”

Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t sure how he knew they were coming to America. “I remember you.”

“Good,” he spoke. “So why are you here?”

“I have business here—does it matter?” Bobby snapped. “Nothing to do with you or your family DeMarco.”

“Oh, it does involve me,” he snapped at the phone. Bobby could tell he was getting angry. “When you come here it is my business. Now, do I have to send my men to come to bring you in for an explanation?”

“No need,” Bobby said, looking out the window. “I am looking for someone and will be out of here in a few days. Don’t worry your sweet little city is still yours,” he said, looking at Mico. “Now let me settle, maybe we can meet for drinks if you want to know my moves,” he said, hanging up the phone. “Damn who the fuck told him we were coming here.” He said throwing the phone on the floor. “Now we have to watch our asses, I am sure he is going to try and stop us from finding that whore.”

“We’re ready for them Boss,” Mico said, looking at him. “We’ll be at the hotel in five minutes, maybe by then Geno has information.”

“I doubt it,” Bobby said, looking out the window. He wanted this to be a dream, he still couldn’t believe he had a daughter that knew nothing about him. His blood pressure was through the roof, he wanted to choke the life out of Brenda for this. Damnit, he let a whore get away with something this big. She would pay, he would leave her body for the fishes to eat, maybe even take her to the ocean and make her bleed and leave her to die with the sharks.

They arrived at the hotel, it was some rundown super 8, Bobby didn’t care as long as the room was nice and a hot shower. Bobby took his key and let himself into the room. He closed the door and dialed Geno.

“So, you have information for me?” Bobby said, sitting down on the bed.

“No,” Geno said, taking a deep breath. “The DeMarco family has the city on edge, no one is talking.”

“That’s not good enough,” Bobby growled. “You’ve known me for how long? I’ll put a bullet in your head if you find nothing again,” he snapped at him before hanging the phone up again.

Mico knocked on the door with some Chinese food. “Here,” he said, walking into the room. “I figured you were hungry, nothing else good out here from what the locals told me,” he said, sitting down on the bed. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Still working on it. I figured we better start at night since that’s where I found the whore,” Bobby said, eating some of the food. “This shit is gross,” he said, throwing it into the trash. “I’m going to take a drive. When I get back be ready to go,” he said, taking the keys from Mico.

Bobby needed to see if Brenda was around. Maybe he would be lucky, and she would be working the corner he found her on fourteen years ago.

It only took him about an hour to get to where she was fourteen years ago, the corner was popping, he wasn’t sure what she looked like now. She was a chubby girl way back then, now she was probably strung out. Bobby was mad at himself for not bring the file with him, but he did remember she didn’t look chubby anymore.

Bobby pulled the car over in a CVS parking lot and decided to walk around. It was getting towards dusk, but he didn’t want to turn back in case he saw her. Most of the girls working in her area were strung out, they swayed back and forth.

A gold BMW pulled up next to Bobby, the window rolled down. “Get in DeLuca.”

Bobby frowned; he didn’t need this right now. “I’m busy,” he snapped. He continued to walk. He was hoping to spot Brenda out here and get away from DeMarco. It took everything in his powers to not pull out his gun and shoot him.

“You know you aren’t going to find her out here,” Ryan DeMarco warned.

“How do know I am looking for anyone?” he growled.

“Geno,” he said, stopping the car. “Get in, don’t make me hurt you.”

“Ha.” Bobby rolled his eyes. “You can't hurt me.”

“With your Daughter, I can,” he snapped. “Get in.”

Bobby didn’t have a choice, he wanted to know what Ryan knew about his daughter. A knot formed in his stomach. He would have to play nice, for now. He would get the information and then kill the son of a bitch.

“Good dog.” Ryan laughed, pulling away from the curb. “Brenda died after she left her daughter in my care. I am grooming her to be a whore. She knows nothing of you,” he said, glancing at Bobby.

It took everything in his power not to pull his gun and shoot him right then and there. Something about his tone told Bobby he was lying. The son of a bitch knew more than he wanted to tell.

“Now we shall party,” he said, turning the annoying fucking rap up. Bobby closed his eyes, he was tense. He wanted to get to where Ryan was taking them. He wanted to beat the shit out of him. He envisioned him killing him slowly with a turkey bone.

Ryan turned off the car. “You do what I say, maybe I’ll let you see your daughter before her debut on whore avenue,” he said, getting out of the car. Bobby followed his lead.

This was fucking dumb; he didn’t have time to party. He knew Ryan was stalling him from finding his daughter. He wasn’t entirely sure that Ryan was lying about Brenda being dead.

Pulling out his phone he dialed Mico. “I am with DeMarco,” he snapped in the phone. Ryan didn’t know he was on the phone. “You need to come to Little Italy—we’re at some club, don’t worry about me. Call my father and have him send you a picture of Brenda via text. I’ll be in touch,” he said, hanging the phone up without looking back.

Ryan led Bobby to the VIP part of the club. Half-naked women were walking around. Bobby didn’t need this distraction, but he would use this time to try and find out some information. DeMarco might spill enough about his daughter that he could use to find her.

“Sit Bobby,” Ryan growled. “You know you should loosen up a little,” he said, handing him a shot of whiskey. “Come watch the girls, get drunk with me. In the morning you’ll see your daughter.”

Bobby sat down; he adjusted his gun in case Ryan played any games with him. He wanted to kill the son of a bitch now—his patience was gone. “I don’t want to get drunk,” Bobby said, putting the glass down. “I want information—I want my daughter.”

“Brenda signed her rights over to me. The girl belongs to me,” Ryan said, taking another shot. “Maybe we can work out an agreement, and I allow you to rent her for a while.”

“She’s not fucking property, you asshole!” Bobby growled, and he put his hand on his gun.

Ryan saw what Bobby was doing. “I wouldn’t,” he said, looking down at Bobby’s gun. “You kill me, your daughter will die.” Ryan stood up. “I see this is going to be a lot harder for you than it should be.”

Bobby stood up and followed him. He pulled out his gun and put it in Ryan’s back. “Move, dick,” he said, pushing him to the side entrance. Bobby grabbed Ryan’s gun tossing it in the trash before leaving the club.

Bobby pushed him against the wall. He turned to face Bobby. “So, this is just business then?” he said, smiling. “Go ahead and kill me, my father already has my blessing to whore the little bitch out.”

Bobby lost it and shot Ryan in the knee cap. He went down crying out like a little bitch. He looked up at Bobby with cold eyes. “Tell me where she is, and that will be the only bullet you get,” he said, cocking the gun again.

“Go ahead and do it, Bobby. Your old man knew you were a trigger-happy Guinea.”

It took everything not to kill him right then and there. He hit him with his gun, knocking him unconscious. He dialed Mico. “Come to Club Rooftop. I have Ryan—he is bleeding,” he said, laughing on the phone.

“You didn’t kill him, Boss?” Mico asked.

“Not yet,” he said, looking down at the man. “Get here fast.”

“We’re here. Where are you?”

“Back of the club,” he said, hanging the phone up. A pair of headlights headed his way.

He knew Mico was good at his job, he should have expected him to come there. Mico hopped out of the SUV, he opened the back hatch. Bobby helped him get Ryan in the back, they went back to their hotel.