The Mobster's Daughter

The Mobster's Daughter: Chapter 1

Prologue/Preface:
My father was a very important man, working as the head of a very illegal company. I'd always known they'd come for him one day, to end his life. I was still shocked when they did. Of course being a mobster's daughter, I always had a plan.
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"Dad?" I called, dropping my keys on the table, as I shut the apartment door silently.
When he didn't answer, I was surprised. I remembered him telling me that morning when I left for work that he was going to take care of an employee who'd betrayed our family by leaking information to the Carlingtons.

 The Carlingtons were an old family, and somewhat of a rival. Their main goal: getting as much money as possible no matter who they had to go through to retrieve it.

Andrew was my father's worst enemy, he wanted to kill my father and force me into marrying his son, Tony. Since I was over eighteen I'd inherit the family's money, which would go to Tony. His actions would forever imprison me in their home, both mentally and physically.

I shook my head to clear the unwanted thoughts as I flipped on the kitchen light. That was when I heard the voices coming from the basement door, which was lay slightly ajar.

"Just tell us where your precious Belle is, so we can take her. You'll be dead of course, so there's really nothing to worry about. She'll be safe in our hands." Came Andrew's gloating voice.

"Leave my daughter out of this!" My father yelled, and there was a crack. Carlington methods to getting people to talk had always been violence.

"You know I've always hated the Stone family. Bunch of traitors." Came a second, younger voice.
'Well, we've always hated you too. The feeling's mutual.' I thought, as my lips pulled back from my teeth in a low growl.

Before I'd even fully registered what I was doing, I raced out of the kitchen, through the hall, up the stairs and into my bedroom. Just when I pulled open my bedroom door, I heard feet pounding on the basement stairs, which caused me to bolt into my closet.

"Where is my damn gun." I growled, throwing clothes around my closet.

"Tell us where she is." The second man yelled, his voice coming from the hall by the stairs. I then uncovered my gun, and crept toward the landing, silently thanking my uncle for teaching me how to shoot. I heard another punch, and winced leaning over the railing I saw blood gushing from the second guy's nose, and Andrew looking furious. I immediately recognized the second man as Tony. The two men who wanted to ruin my life.

'Well I'm in some deep shit.' I thought.
"If you don't tell us where she is, we'll just search for her. And trust me, we will find her." Andrew held his gun to my father's forehead.
"Three seconds to tell us." Tony sang, grinning like an idiot.
"Three. Tell us where she is." Andrew sneered, while my father shot him a glare. He was on his knees, hands tied behind his back, but still defiant as ever.
"Two." I raised my gun and aimed it at Andrew's head. I pulled the trigger, and all it did was click. No bullets.
My father glanced up, and saw me, shock registering on his features.
Andrew grinned, mistaking it for fear, "One." He pulled the trigger, and my father fell to the floor, dead as the echoes of the gunshot sounded through the house and rang in my ears.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, to keep any noise in, and ran into my room, straight into my closet.
"Search the house!" Andrew ordered, and I climbed onto the dresser in my walk-in closet, clenching my gun between my teeth.
Reaching up, I pulled on the latch to the attic door.
"Open, open, open." I chanted quietly, pulling with all my strength as feet sounded on the stairs. With one final pull, the latch came free and I scrambled up into the tiny crawlspace above our loft. It smelled of dust, and the air was damp. Just as I closed the door with
a small thud, the door to my closet slammed open. I could just picture Tony going through my things, and the thought made my blood boil.
I went over the emergency plan in my head, even though I knew it by heard and could execute it in my sleep.
Phase One: I was to wait in the attic where my bag was hidden until the house was cleared. Then escaping to execute Phase Two.
I quickly scooted over and pulled out my small duffel bag, unzipping it quietly so I could go through the contents. I'd only just repacked it last week, a habit I'd made just to make sure everything would fit. I usually checked it once a month. Pawing through the bag quickly, I made sure everything was there.

I pushed my black sweaty bangs out of my face, and went through my mental checklist.
At least three sets of clothes. Check.
My spare gun. Check.
Bullets to both my guns. Check.
And lastly, I counted out my savings. One hundred thousand dollars. Check.
The money was for me to figure out what to do for Phase Two, and the rest of the plan.

I crawled over to the door, bag in hand. Easing open the door just slightly, I listened. The voices were coming from my room, and slightly muffled through the closed door.
"She's not here. But there was a note on the table that said 'Sleepover at Andrea's after work.' Think it's legit?" Tony's voice was cold.
"Probably. The girl had no warning we were coming." Then there were footsteps and the sound of the front door slamming.
I guess it was a good thing I'd come home first. Looking out the grimey window, I watched the two men carry my father's body to their car, and dump him in the trunk.
I pressed my hand to the dirty glass, watching as they sped down the street in their shiny sports car.
"Goodbye Daddy." I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry while never moving again at losing the only family I had left after Uncle Lenny and my mother died the year before in a car accident. But I had no time to mourn.
"Time for Phase Two." I smiled grimly, dropping my bag onto the floor of my horribly messy closet.
Phase Two: Get out of the country as fast as possible.
I quickly pulled my fake ID's and passports out of my desk drawer, shoving them into my bag.
I threw on some dark clothes, and said goodbye to our cozy loft in New York forever. To my whole life as I'd known it. No doubt the rest of the company had heard of my father's death, and they would know I was trying to get out of the country.
"This really sucks." I grumbled, hailing a Taxi.
Of course, I was raised to accept this kind of situation. After all, I was the mobster's daughter.