“My shoes are fucking ruined, Rizzo!” I yelled as we trekked through the stifling heat of the fuckin’ Jersey woods. Rizzo shuffled alongside me like a sick horse.

“Si cammina lento come un cavallo malato!” I sneered.

“A sick horse?” he asked. “My Ma used to say that to me and my brothers all the time. ‘You walk like slower than a sick horse, Rizzo’, she’d say.”

“Yeah, well it didn’t help did it? Walk faster!”

Rizzo had been with me for five years, and he was the most loyal of all of my men. Even the ones that had been with me longer weren’t as loyal as him. They all had an angle. They all wanted something from me. Rizzo? He just wanted to be near me. To make me happy.

His dad was a part of the family, and together we’d been part of Giannetti’s family back in the day. Rizzo’s dad died a long time ago. So long ago it seemed like another lifetime really, even though it must have only been about fifteen years or so.

I could remember it like it was yesterday, though I tried hard to forget it most of the time. I’d done a lot of things I wasn’t proud of. But like the Don before me, I’d made sure to balance it all out with doing good. Like the 101st Street block party every Fourth of July. I’d continued that tradition, with no thought for how much it cost, just like Giannetti.

To some of the kids in the neighborhood, it was the only fun they got to have all year. You think their deadbeat parents were taking them to Coney Island to see the fireworks? No fucking way. I brought that to them, so they didn’t have to. Just like the good man before me.

We weren’t monsters. We didn’t see it that way. We did what needed to be done to take care of the neighborhood, to make sure people were provided for. If that meant we had to knock a couple of heads together in the process, so be it.

“Not for nuttin, Boss, but it sure is fuckin’ hot out here today,” Rizzo said.

“No shit, Sherlock,” I said. “Why don’t you just shut up? You’re gettin’ on my last nerve, Rizzo.”

“Sorry, boss, I was just trying to make conversation,” he replied.

“Make conversation quando troviamo mia stupida figlia!”

“We will find your stupid daughter - I mean, Gabriella. We will find her, Leo,” he said, continuing to talk no matter what I just said.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. “Sooner than later, I hope. And when I do find her? Ho intenzione di chiudere la sua via per sempre!”

“You can’t lock her away forever, can you, Boss? She’s legal now. She can do whatever she wants, right?”

“Maybe according to the police, but not according to my rules!” I exclaimed. I was beyond pissed off at my daughter. I was furious. Making me look for her like a fucking stupido idiota!

I loved my daughter with all my heart, no matter how angry I was right now. She was my life. Nothing else in this world meant anything to me if I didn’t have her. And if I came home without her, her mother would have me killed.

I was certain of it.

My wife was even more terrifying than I ever aimed to be. She was one of those people you never expected to do be violent, and then she came out of nowhere one day when you were fucking your mistress in an Uptown apartment, thinking you were safe and nobody would ever find you, but no…there she was standing over you with a twelve-inch butcher knife with her eyes glazed over like a fuckin’ heartless serial killer!

My wife was that kind of woman. Chilling. Calculating.

“Find Gabby and don’t come back till you have her! Don’t trust your fucking goomba’s to do it this time, either, Leo!” she’d said. “They always fuck everything up! This is Gabby we’re talking about, not some fucking back alley deal between a couple of hit men, you understand me Leo?”

She had that same look in her eye as she did when she was holding that knife over my dick that day, and I knew not to argue with her.

They don’t call us wise guys for nuttin’, you know. Part of that wisdom was knowing when your old lady meant business.

Not that I wouldn’t have searched the entire fucking country for Gabby if I had to. But her mother’s attitude compelled me to do so personally.

So here I was. Traipsing through the woods, ruining my finest custom made Armani Collezioni suit, looking for my rebellious daughter.

After Bella told me why she’d gone to Otto’s, and then knowing my daughter had gone there and been a victim of such brutal violence from those fucking savage bikers, I was furious. And now they were saying she’d killed someone. Well, what the fuck else was she supposed to do? Just let them touch her like that? Hit her like that?

Nobody hit a Loprinzi and got away with it. I’d taught her that, and I was proud she’d fought back.

I’d called my friend in the Prosecutor’s office on the way over, and he assured me she wouldn’t face charges, they just wanted her to come in for questioning so they could let her go, he’d said. Of course it was self-defense, he’d said. The murder charge was just a formality and would most likely be dropped later, he’d said. They had to blame someone to get the media from breathing down their necks.

If only she would have called me, I could have told her all of this and we could have put her in a car with one of my lawyers, she could have gone down to the station, and had everything cleared up in a matter of hours. Badda bing, badda boom. Done.

Of course, I wouldn’t go to the precinct myself, what was I, crazy? No fuckin’ way.

If I didn’t spontaneously combust from walking in the door, I’d never get out alive. There were some cops that would love to see cuffs on me. But if I had any say in the matter, that would never happen. Not over my dead body.

But Gabriella hadn’t called me.

Instead, I’d followed Bella, figuring she’d be stupid enough to lead me right to her. I didn’t believe her for a second when she said she didn’t know where Gabriella was. When we followed her right back to Otto’s, I knew she’d been lying the whole fuckin’ time.

When I saw that she’d jumped on the back of that bike like she’d done it a million times before, I knew I was close to finding my daughter. We’d parked on the side of the main road after they pulled off onto the dirt road, and walked the rest of the way. Of course, I wasn’t counting on having to watch Bella get the bottom dropped out of her first. I thought they’d never stop fuckin’, and I made Rizzo look away the whole time. Luckily, the biker shot his load pretty quickly, so it was over before too long.

I made a mental note to move Gabby out of that little slut’s apartment and we continued following down the road they drove down and now here we were, walking through the woods like a couple of cafones.

“Look, Boss!” Rizzo whispered, stopping in front of me. I ran into his back and then slapped him out of the way.

“For fuck’s sake, ya fuckin’ idiot! Don’t stop like that!”

“We found it!” he whispered, pointing ahead.

Indeed we had and it was about fucking time.

A rundown cabin was visible through the trees, and we watched silently as an equally inappropriately dressed woman snuck around the side of the cabin, peeking in the windows like a fucking pervert.

When I saw the bikes, I knew they were all in there together.

I pulled my gun out of my inside suit jacket.

“Let’s get her. Looks like we’ve found what we’ve been looking for, Rizzo.”

She went down fast and easy, just like they always do when they don’t see or hear you coming. I smiled at the sound of her body hitting the ground. It had been a while since I’d done the dirty work myself, and it felt just as natural as it always had.

Like riding a bike, I thought to myself, as we pulled her up and carried her towards the front of the cabin. She woke up quickly, stunned into silence by my gun pressed into her temple.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“L-l-auren O’R-r-roarke, from Ch-ch-ch-channel Eight News,” she stuttered, her voice shaking with fear.

“Well, Lauren, you look like a smart woman. Stay quiet, don’t fight, and you won’t get hurt,” I said. “You got it?”

She stared at me with wide eyes, her mouth open in shock.

“Nod your head that you agree,” I whispered. Slowly, she nodded her pretty little head, and I leaned forward, kissing her on the forehead.

“Good girl. Now move!” I shoved her in front of me.

We barreled through the front door together, the cheap wood splintering at my feet.

“Nobody makes a move, or this broad gets a bullet in the head!”