by Amir Sanchez
Thin Line Between Death and Dishonor
Amir Sanchez
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
Shout-Outs
Prologue
Mean Streets of Philly
Federal Detention Center: Philadelphia
Somewhere in West Philly
1 . . . 2 . . . Feds Is Coming for You
Change Going to Come
The Meet-Up
And So It Begins
Streets Is Watching
The Homecoming
Shoot for the Moon If You Want to Find Stars
Guess Who’s Back?
Get the Patrón and Tell ’Em That I’m Home
Becoming a Star . . . (Rats)
Now or Never
Foot in the Door
When You Gamble with Safety, You Bet Your Life
Take ’Em to School
A Thug Changes . . . Love Changes . . . and Family Become Strangers
Gangsta’s Gone Wild
I Can Do Better on My Own
We Got 99 Problems
What a Night Can Do
The Warning
Happy Days
Snake in the Grass
The Takeover in Effect
Testing Patience
When Blood Gets Thinner Than Water
Mo’ Money . . . Mo’ Problems
The Beginning of the Ending
Reconcile Differences
From Hopeful to Hopelessness
Rat Bastard!
Payback’s a Bitch, Literally!
Smiling Faces Tell Lies
Ready or Not, Here They Come
The Cleanup
All Eyes on Me
When the Hunter Gets Contacted by the Prey
Thin Line between Sleep and Death
Tied Ball Game
The Aftermath
Over the Edge
Karma Has Come
Decisions and Drastic Measures
Showtime . . . All for All!
The Greatest Trick the Devil Pulled? Fooling the World He Didn’t Exist
B.O.R.E.—Bitch on the Run Eating
Stand Up, Nigga!
Where I Need to Be
Time Has Come
Epilogue
Urban Books, LLC
300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109
Farmingdale, NY 11735
Thin Line Between Death and Dishonor
Copyright © 2017 Amir Sanchez
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-6016-2563-2
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.
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Acknowledgments
First in order, all praise is to Allah for taking the evil and negative thoughts out of my heart and mind, replacing them with things and talents that will certainly be beneficial in my living a decent, successful life....
All my positive achievements are dedicated to my little cousin, Koran Santana. “Gone but not forgotten, cousin . . . I still feel you.” Real niggas die once, while cowards die a million deaths. I wish you could see these niggas now. Those cowards knew they would have never succeeded in their plots had I been around. That is why they waited until I wasn’t around. I love you, baby boy. Until we meet again, I’m doing me.
Shout-Outs
To my favorite lady, my mother, Connie Santana, my big sis, Aisha, li’l sisters, Amber, Alaynia, and Arielle, li’l brothers, Rob, Manny, Avery, Mike, Austen, my children, little Amir and Matthew, and my baby girl, Khalena. I love all of y’all. Thank you for your everlasting support. To my aunts, Lisa, Carmen, Barbra, and Michelle, I love y’all too. Love you, Grandmom. Nephews, nieces . . . Unc doing it big!
Special shout-outs to my editor, Jill Serrano, and her nigga, my man, Fly Stunna. My nigga Tuff, Shahir, Migitpimp, Deli, Tim, Buddah Bless, Ceese, Haddi, Lil Da, Omar (Maybache), Sparks, K-Ream, Ms. D. Shields, your vision was crazy . . . Ms. Stevens, wow! Pumkin, Dasha, I should but won’t forget y’all . . . Philly, stand up! If you weren’t mentioned, that means you aren’t part of my movement so stay out of my way! I promise to take this book game to a level where no one has ever taken it. The pen game is vicious.
Prologue
Sunday dinners at the Santana home were always considered sacred. If you wasn’t “family,” you wasn’t permitted to sit down at their table and feast upon the food and fruits of their extravagant labors. The Santana twins, Connie and Consuela, had grown up doing this with their parents and now that they had children of their own, they were proud to carry it on. Every Sunday, the sisters would wake up early and go straight into the kitchen to get started on the food. Connie would season, then marinate the chicken and the pernil (Spanish pork shoulder) for a few hours before putting it in the oven to slow cook it. The end result was her delicious fall-off-the-bone baked chicken and roasted pernil. Her sister Consuela was always in charge of the sides. Every Sunday, she would switch it up between rice and beans with homemade potato salad or a baked macaroni and cheese with collard greens and sweet yams. Having grown up in Philly, the girls had learned how to cook all kinds of things from Spanish cuisine to good old down-South comfort food.
“Girl, you put your foot in this one,” Connie complimented her sister as she took a big bite out of her corn bread.
“Girl, you know how I get down. A bitch can cook,” Consuela laughed.
“Yeah, Mami. This shit is off the chain.” Gus, Connie’s thirteen-year-old son, invited himself in on the conversation.
“Boy, how many times have I told you not to curse around me and your aunt? I ain’t about to be disrespected by my son in my own motherfuckin’ house,” Connie snapped.
“Dag, Ma, it’s not that serious. I was just paying you a compliment,” Gus said as he kissed his teeth. Consuela stood up quickly from where she was sitting and yoked her nephew up and got in his face.
“You listen to me, and you listen to me well,” she said through clenched teeth. “Don’t you ever think you can speak to me or your mother like that. We have fucked people up for thinking they can talk to us any way they want. Don’t think just because you’re blood you gonna get away with shit like that.” Consuela released her nephew from her grip, and he fell back in his chair.
“And that goes for you too, Ka’Leaf and Sha’Ron.” Consuela pointed at her own two sons that had silently watched the entire thing. For the rest of the dinner, the boys talked among themselves while Connie and Consuela ate and discussed their plans on how to make their lucrative business ventures more profitable. Their conversation was interrupted when they heard their front door get kicked open. In a split second, two masked gunmen entered. The two woman immediately sat up and told their boys to run to the hiding spot they had made in case anything like this ever was to happen.
“Y’all know what the fuck this is! Anybody move or talk, everybody die!” the gunman instructed. If his eyes weren’t scary in itself, the chilling demeanor in the tone of his voice was sure to deliver fear into the
hearts of his captives. With a gun in each hand, his partner reassured his comrade’s statement, pointing his pistols directly at the Santana sisters’ heads. Once compliance and order was established, gunman number one signaled his partner that he was going to search the house. Minutes later, he came back with Sha’Ron, Ka’Leaf, and Gus. Ka’Leaf and Gus both had mean mugs on their faces, not showing any fear, but the youngest of the three, Sha’Ron looked terrified. He looked around in a state of confusion. At barely nine years old, he didn’t have much of an understanding of the dangerous situation their entire family was in. His older brother and cousin, on the other hand, had already seen a few beat downs and standoffs when they’d gone with their mothers to “run errands.” Sha’Ron started crying uncontrollably.
“Shut that motherfucking rug rat up before I do,” one of the gunmen demanded impatiently.
“Fuck you,” Ka’Leaf yelled at him as he stood up to the gunman. “Y’all bum-ass thieves better get the fuck outta our house.”
“Yeah, y’all motherfuckers have no idea who the fuck you messing with coming up in our house.” Gus backed his cousin up. Sha’Ron cried louder when he saw one of the men slap Ka’Leaf straight across his face. As soon as he went down, Gus went in with an uppercut, but the gunman was fast, and before he could even land his punch, the man swung his leg, and Gus flew in the air and landed hard on his back. With no regards nor sympathy, the other gunman then grabbed Sha’Ron and shoved him toward the twins.
Consuela grabbed her son, hugged, and kissed him. She promised him that everything was going to be OK. Hearing his mother’s soothing voice seemed to calm Sha’Ron down a little bit. Consuela had seen enough. Never in her life has she been violated to this degree. Having been hustling for years, she understood that this was another part of the game, but to have the nerve to bring it to her front door and in front of their kids? That alone was an act that went against every rule and code that even the worst of the worst respected. There was no more keeping her composure. No more biting her tongue.
“Enough of this bullshit. Enough. Goddamn,” she shouted at the gunmen while still holding Sha’Ron. “Violating me is one thing, but to terrorize my fucking kid? I promise to hunt you cowards down and—”
Boop! Boop! Two gunshots went off before she could finish the rest of her sentence. The first shot hit her in the chest. The other hit the child she held in his back. Both went crashing to the ground, still breathing, yet badly bleeding. Their injuries was serious enough to be fatal. Connie stared on in a state of disbelief. Seeing what these men had just done to her sister and nephew made her fear that she and the boys were next. She ran to the boys and pulled them in close and embraced them tightly. Prepared to die for her children, she shielded them with her own body as best as she could. If they did open fire, the shots would hit her first. The woman she was would die to protect her children. She loved her sister’s sons as if they were her own. Before it got to that extreme, she decided to try to negotiate with the men.
“Wait a minute. Y’all don’t have to do this. Please. You can have it all,” she submitted cooperatively. Staring directly into the eyes of the man standing before her with his gun aimed directly at her and the boys, she noticed that her words had attracted his intention and interest. “If they don’t get medical attention fast, they’re going to die. The money can be made back; you can’t get a life back. Please.”
After a moment of odd silence, the gunman approached her and snatched her up by her neck. Ka’Leaf and Gus sprang into action and took that as their opportunity to try to run to the kitchen to grab a knife.
“Take one more step and I blow her motherfucking brains out,” one of the gunmen yelled out. The boys stopped dead in their tracks and turned around to see Connie with a gun to her head. The other gunman walked toward the two cousins, pointed his gun at them, and guided them back to the dining room. It took every bit of strength Gus had not to fight, but his mother’s life depended on it, so he followed instructions. The second gunman lifted his leg and kicked both of them to the floor.
“Y’all stay the fuck down there until I say you can get up,” the first gunman said before returning his attention to Connie. “Now, why couldn’t your sister shut her big fucking mouth and just give it the fuck up?” he wondered curiously. “You must be the smart one. So I tell you what, you have one chance, and only one chance, to save your family. If you do one stupid move, I will torture these two to death right in front of you while you watch. Now, lead the way.”
Connie took him straight to the master bedroom of the house. Once there, she revealed to him where the hidden safe was located on the floor. To the naked eye, the hardwood floors appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary. However, at the entry of the walk-in closet underneath a Turkish rug, the wooden floor panels slid to the side, concealing a three foot wide hidden compartment. Discovering the compartment didn’t necessarily mean one was able to remove the contents that it held. The high-tech safe only granted access when a matching handprint and security code was entered. The twins were the only people in the world that would be able to open that safe because their fingerprints were the only thing programmed in it. After Connie explained the process to the gunman, he first inspected it for himself. Upon her claims being confirmed, he pointed his gun at her head once again.
“I hope I made myself clear downstairs. You try anything stupid, the blood of your family will be on your hands,” he warned her one final time before motioning her to open the safe.
There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the crazed gunman would carry out his threats if she didn’t comply with his demands. Deep down inside, she honestly believed that even after she gave up everything in the safe that he was going to kill her and her family anyway. At that moment, she realized that the fate of her family lay with her. With her mind and heart racing faster than they ever had in her life, she slowly dropped down to her knees and placed her right hand on the screen of the safe. It took the safe’s security system a few seconds to confirm and approve her identity.
“Please put in your access code,” the robotlike voice requested aloud.
Taking a quick deep breath, she began to push in a sequence of buttons located on the keypad. The machine made a beeping sound with each number she entered. Other than that, there was an odd silence. That didn’t last long at all. Suddenly, the entire house went completely dark. Along with the pitch-black darkness, a siren alarm sounded off throughout the home. It was nearly louder than a fire truck.
Fortunately for Connie, she’d remembered the code for the security feature that shut down all power in the house and sounded off the alarm. In that split second, she had to react. She removed a Glock 40 that was hidden next to the safe. She had to move quickly and quietly before the gunman moved. Otherwise, it’d be impossible for her to know the exact location of where he stood. The darkness made it nearly impossible for her to see anything at all. That is, until the gunman began shooting blindly around the room.
Big mistake.
Every time his weapon discharged, the fire spark from the chamber flashed enough light for her to see exactly where he was at. With her family’s fate riding on her, she aimed and squeezed. Three shots was all it took. Each one hit their mark. Shots from her own gun provided light flashes as well. Certainly enough to see his forehead explode on impact by way of a .40-caliber slug. Before his body even hit the ground, she was on her feet running blindly down the back steps. By this time, her eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness. In addition, she also had the advantage of it being in her own home.
Having lived there for nearly three years, she knew the entire layout from room to room. She thanked God that she hadn’t been shot when the man was firing aimlessly around the room. Halfway down the steps, she heard the screams and cries of Sha’Ron. Hearing his cries was like music to her ears. It was a sign that he was still alive. Even over the loud sirens, she could also make out Ka’Leaf’s and Gus’s voices.
“Auntie, please just hang in t
here,” Gus was yelling.
“C’mon, Sha’Ron, you can’t leave yet, baby boy,” she heard Ka’Leaf’s voice. With extreme caution she moved in the direction of the voices. It wasn’t long before she spotted them. The boys were tending to Connie and Sha’Ron while the second gunman was looking around for an escape route. Connie wanted to put a bullet right in his dome, but it was too risky for her to come around the corner shooting while the boys were there. She couldn’t risk them standing to their feet. Instead, she decided to run out of the side door of the house.
Once outside, she ran around to the front and hid on the side of the bushes. It was here that he was planning to make his escape. When he exited the house, she could hear him muttering under his breath that he should’ve shot all of them. Hearing this only further enraged her. She had to keep a level head and not let her emotions affect her actions right now. She took a deep breath and waited patiently until the perfect time for her to make her move. Once that moment arrived, she stepped out of her hiding place with phenomenal speed, like a snake striking without warning. Pressing her gun on the side of his temple, she fired her remaining shots. Even as he fell, she never took the gun from his temple, nor stopped firing. Standing over the top of his body, she stared at him for a moment before bending over and removing his mask. Although his head was badly deformed from trauma and bloodied, she still was able to recognize who it was. A taste so bad came to her mouth, she spat it out in the face of the man that fathered her only son. Ali! She hadn’t seen or heard from him since Gus was a small baby, but yet, he came back in their lives, only to try to take them away and rob them of everything in the process.
It didn’t take much thought for her to guess who the other dead gunman was. Atiff! He was Ali’s twin brother. The foursome was once a loving twin couple, but greed and corruption got in the way of their relationships. The men became jealous when Connie and Consuela became better at their hustle then they ever were. They started accusing the girls of hiding money and trying to start their own hustle behind their backs. What they didn’t realize was that the girls were ride or die, and they would’ve never crossed them like that. They just wanted more for their lives. Ali and Atiff were okay with just breaking into people’s houses and making quick cash, but the girls were more business minded. They started flipping the money they made from the break-ins and buying bricks to sell on their own. They never hid anything from their men, but after months of arguing and accusations, one day, they both suddenly disappeared and weren’t seen or heard from until now.