Morning everyone! Last September I was asked if I'd like to join Desiree Holt's Omega Team Kindle World. I said...yes! Duh, how could you turn that down? But, I would have to wait till June to get my story out there. Well, we're less than a month out, and I can't tell you how excited I am.
My story takes place in Los Angeles, and deals with the gangs and cartels. I grew up in Whittier, California, where gangs were around us constantly. In fact, one of the gangs, WVL (Whitter Varrios Locos) has been banned from the city proper. They've teared down apartments, and built habitat homes to push back against the gang issues. For me, it was a part of my life. I didn't have an issue with it. We were never scared, or anything. It was just there. We saw it. We knew it, and that's it.
School was different, we couldn't wear certain colors. Wear baggy clothes. But, in the long run it was all relative. To say it now, twenty years later, it sounds like I lived in a war zone. To me, it'll always be home. With that said, it made coming up with this idea, easy. I wrote what I knew. So, I really hope you enjoy Santiago, Scott and Alyssa.
The Deal is made...
Santiago Martinez has two weeks to take down a major cartel operation, and there's only one person who can help him.
Scott Jurupa never wanted to go home. When he left the 323, he didn't think he'd be stuck in that living hell ever again. However, when Santiago calls he can't refuse.
Time's running out...
Alyssa Ramos, doesn't want anything to happen to her family. When she hears about her brother's dealings, she comes home to stop him. Instead, what she finds are two men willing to do anything to save her life.
Scott Jurupa stared down at the clothes on his bed, and shook his head. It’d been years since he wore his colors and stepped back into the middle of his territory. Could he do it? Could he stroll back through the gate of no return and greet the gang he’d almost given up his life for?
Guess it didn’t matter now. Santiago needed him. The FBI counted on him and his bosses, Thomas and Theo, reminded him, he carried the power. He broke free—made it out, and became a better man. Now, with the skills he learned over the years in the military, he’d be giving back to the community—one that was in desperate need of his assistance.
Yeah, he supposed it’d been a cheesy speech, but it’d been for the right reasons. He glanced at himself in the mirror. The visual souvenirs of his past lay before him in black and grey. Mi familia. A pang of betrayal pricked his heart. He swore he’d never be a snitch for or against the 323—Tres-dos-tres. Fuck.
Being in West Hollywood some days and overseas the rest of the time while on princess watch aka babysitting actresses, had kept him away from the gang. Serving in the military with Santiago for almost ten years, taught him purpose. Opened his eyes to possibilities. Going back in felt like a stab in the back to who he’d become and who he used to be.
He stared at the 323 tattoo on his neck, the last tattoo he’d gotten before he’d been picked up for illegally carrying a handgun without a permit, by the LAPD’s Gang Task Force. The cocksuckers tried to say he’d pulled it during the commission of a crime, but he hadn’t done shit. In fact, all they could get on him, was standing on the corner of Sunset and Echo Park Ave, which back in the day had been a no-no.
So, he took the deal. Became all he could be. Went to war and came home. He mellowed out. Changed, he supposed, for the better. But, was anything better for him? His life had turned into a mission of hiding out. Work and home. No place in between. A prisoner within the walls of his abode.
The question wasn’t, could he do this, the question became, what happened if he did? Jumping back in could go one of two ways. Either they’d accept him with open arms or they’d kill him. Bigger and badder people have tried. Yet, it wasn’t the same. As much as he had the K&K family at his back, the gang was all he’d known from the time he turned ten, until he was twenty-three. Once they got into your blood, they were always there.
Like an addict, he questioned his strength and his resolve. If he survived this job, would he be able to walk away like he did all those years before? At least this time he had a say so in the matter.
Guilt settled in his stomach like a lead weight. If he went back now after everything he accomplished, he’d be betraying his legacy. But, what kind of legacy did a man like him have anyway? No way in hell anyone gave a shit about him. Even his parents didn’t talk to him anymore. Can’t say he blamed them. He made the miserable for years. It was for the best they bought a home in Florida and cut ties with him. No one in their right mind wants to watch their only son constantly try to kill himself, which is what being in the gang created. A viscous cycle of drive-by after drive-by and retaliation.
Scott stared at the clothes on his bed. Putting them back on would put him right back to where he was at twenty-three years old. Hadn’t he seen enough death and violence to last a life time? Obviously not, homie. Because you’re about to put them back on.