Page 3 of Darling Nikki

I look at the man now wearing the El Diablo biker cut with PROSPECT emblazoned on his shoulder. Some people think he’s just going to end up dead or in prison. I know better.

“You’re not going to die. Neither am I. We are the one’s who live,” he says, joining me as bury this worthless piece of shit. “Plus, he’s hardly here. He got scared after your mom passed. He knew you were a wild card then.”

“And always has security with him but never fear, I’m patient. I’m going to make him suffer first.” I nod down at the evidence of my determination squirming like a worm in dirt.

“I-Is that a tear?” Angel asks bending to look closer at Lester who starts to out right bawl through his gag.

“Hilarious,” I chuckle, looking at the four neat rows beside him and the three behind, Every man who was there that night except my bastard father, the others — all abusers who worked on this land terrorizing workers for years under my father’s control until two years ago when Angel and I staged a strike that turned into a bloody war until we prevailed.

We lost good men and women but we won the freedom and better life for the people who work here. My father still runs the company and own the land but he knows as well his days are numbered. Now, he stays far out of my reach. He now works on the corporate side jet-setting as a merry widower. I know he hasn’t given up his little hobby.

I take a little solace as I continue my task knowing one day I will catch him slipping.

ChapterOne

Mathias ~ Six years ago

I’m blazed as fuck,driving down the back road toward the Love side of town with two things on my mind: getting more blazed and getting to fuck. Rather than finally fucking my girlfriend, Natalie Spencer. We’ve been together—all arranged by our families since we were born, but they finally told us in tenth grade we were going to marry.

Tonight, after all these years, she’s promised to let me hit it. I did the whole bullshit grand gesture at graduation earlier today, giving her the Shelby Emerald that’s been passed down from generation to generation, since it was snatched off the neck of an African princess, one the first Loves, when she was bought by one of my heinous great-great-parents in the late sixteen hundreds.

Natalie, her hazel-green eyes shining with glee, flicked her long tresses and whispered “reparations” in my ear before kissing me—her effort at an inside joke, knowing full well that, of all the Black residents of Shelby-Love, Alabama, the seat of the Shelby empire, her family, the wealthy Spencers, who made their money in timber and paper, is the least in need of any type of reparations. They’ve been the cohorts of the Shelbys since before the Civil War, freemen who’d been granted manumission by Shelbys for some great deed they’d done in the seventeen hundreds. They’ve been tight ever since. Our families are so closely intertwined, I would be surprised if we aren’t related down the line. The Spencers definitely have my family’s same penchant for avarice and evil. They also hate the Love family with as much passion as Shelbys do, though why is lost in the annals of time.

Since the moment I was a child, I’ve been taught like every good Shelby that Loves are anathema to everything Shelby stands for. They breed like locusts, outnumbering us five to one. They have land they don’t deserve, some given by northern elites after the Civil War, the rest swindled during Prohibition. Honestly, I don’t give a fuck. It’s all nonsense to me. I have no interest in the Love-Shelby feud or the Shelby-Spencer alliance, other than what it means to my future and my vengeance.

Drawing heavily on the blunt I came down here to get from my El Diablo connect, I think about how fucking sweet it’s going to be to rip my motherfucking father’s heart out and stomp it to bits when he sees his son destroy everything he worked so hard for, thought he groomed me for. Yes, I’ll marry Natalie, the pretty Black heiress of the Spencer line, and I’ll go to law school and run for Congress, but there’s where my father’s plan for my life ends. Instead of being the fourth Republican Shelby to hold office, I will switch and become a Democrat and his worst fucking nightmare.

Everything he sought to gain from me will die, become ashes in his mouth. No longer will he be able to use his position to manipulate the government and twist regulations in his favor. No longer will he be able to indenture migrants on his vast Shelby estate, exploiting the most vulnerable. I laugh just thinking of the full-on fit he’ll throw. I hope it sends him into a massive heart attack. No one deserves it more than that som’bitch.

I hit the curve of the road, making toward the Shelby-Love City Center so I can reach the Shelby Country Club, where the Shelbys and Spencers are gathered, waiting for me to celebrate my engagement and graduation. Senior’s going to be pissed when I show up high as hell, but that’s the only way I can deal with these monsters.

There’s no way anyone but a complete psychopath can be around them for any length of time and not lose their mind. Natalie is good at faking, but I’m wondering who’s the act is for. Me or them? I think she’s on the side of her cousins Leon and Lex, both doctors who tolerated the family, even loved it, but made a point of forging their own path. Theirs in particular was in service to others, being physicians. But remarks like the ones she made today about reparations and other little superficial things, like disparaging students on scholarship—like Leon’s fiancée, Mimi—make me see a side of her I don’t like. When I told her how awful her take on people being on scholarship was, she hurried to assure me she was kidding, but I still wonder.

Opening a window to let some of the smoke out, I take another curve down the alley by the diner and the apothecary, both Love establishments. Two more quick turns, and I’ll speed all the way to the country club. The first turn comes, and then I go three blocks and make another when something darts out in front of me. My reflexes are fast, but the weed plays a part, and honestly, no one could react that quick—I can’t avoid it. The mass is a blur bouncing off the hood of my car. I stop in time not to run it over. Praying it’s animal but knowing the way my stomach knots tells me it’s not, I try to catch my breath.

I’d like to say as I sit here, I’m not thinking of just backing up and getting out of here. I’m high, had some shots with my frat earlier, too. Can see the headlines now—MATHIAS SHELBY JR. HITS HOMELESS MAN WHILE HIGH AND DRUNK. I can say goodbye to politics, a law license. I’ll be relegated to working under my father’s thumb for the rest of my days. Might as well eat a bullet now. Bile rises in my throat at the thought.

Unthinking, I shift the gears of my BMW, a high school graduation present from the father I hate, but I needed a new ride. Just as I’m about to back up, a small hand touches the top of the hood.

I freeze. It’s a kid. I’m immediately thrown back to the soft, insistent voice I do my best to forget.Always be a protector, filho.

A fissure starts in my chest. After shifting into park, I unlatch my seat belt, open the door, then get out. Walking around to the front of my car, I see the crumpled figure.

“Hey, are you alright?” I stoop, looking at the top of a gray hoodie.

“Yeah.” A soft voice reaches my ears. I can’t place the accent, but she doesn’t sound Southern. “Just got the wind knocked out of me. I’ll be fine.”

Pulling her knees close to her body, she pulls herself up in a smooth movement. I stand along with her. She’s a little thing. Too young to be out alone even in this relatively safe town.

“Where were you going?” I ask, looking down, trying to get a good focus on her face. She keeps her head down.

“Nowhere really, just around.” She shrugs, edging away like she’s getting ready to put distance between us so she can bolt. I don’t know why that bothers me, but it does.

I step back instead, giving her some space. “Okay. Just hanging out?”

She nods, throwing a furtive look over her shoulder. I see it then. A backpack stuffed full, like she’s carrying around her life. A runaway. We don’t get a lot of them around here. Most of the time, they pass through or end up having their family members take them in. It’s just how it is down here. People help when folks have trouble, especially young people.

“Do you have people around here?”

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