Dirty South

Dirty South

Zoey Raven · Ongoing · 147.8k Words

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Introduction

Handsome, hot blooded, hardworking, wealthy, and hard to handle Chief Kaave fought on the city streets of DIRTY SOUTH, where he staked his guts and brains to build an empire. An empire his very own daughter, Coco Kaave, would do any and everything for.

But when Roy, the charming, dangerous hustler with a heart as cold as hers crashes into her world, Coco finds herself distracted…dangling between love and loyalty, passion and power.

Can Coco Kaave run the streets of DIRTY SOUTH?

Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Welcome to Dirty South

"In Dirty South, you don't call the cops," Coco's smile promised he'd not like it.

"Because at the snap of Chief Kaave's fingers everybody falls in place."

The rain started in earnest. Horace moved back and broke into a jog. He could hear Coco trotting behind him, resolute in her feminine purpose, despite the downpour.

He got to the end of the cliff then stopped, hopelessly looking around, he was soaked and breathing hard.

"Coco, I swear to you I did not call the cops!" A gusting wind that was both refreshing and alarming in it's ferocity swallowed up his words. "Okay yes I did! I'm sorry!"

"I'll give you a few free tips about Dirty South, so when next you're coming around you will play by the rules." Coco pulled out her pistol and pointed to his head.

"When you screw up you either put yourself in prison or kill yourself, the cops ain't know that, but the street does."

Horace strolled backwards then jumped off the cliff. The sound from Coco's gun faded away into the storm. She fired until she got to the end of the cliff.

A slow smile curled her mouth as she looked down and saw Horace dangling lifeless on a tree branch. "In Dirty South we don't say shit we don't mean. We talk 10% and act 90%."

Coco walked to her red Lamborghini, soaked to the skin and sizzling with sensation. She pulled open the back door and slipped inside, sitting beside Brandy.

"Someone is inviting me to a party," Brandy said, blending her lipstick. "The party starts at about 3AM. O' Rivers is the West side of Dirty South, right?"

"O' Rivers is where your car gets stolen at about 2pm in the parking lot. 3AM in O' Rivers? Your throat will get cut off." Coco responded.

Her phone rang and she picked.

"The case doesn't make sense," Coco said over the phone. "No bullet fragments in her foot, no gun powder residue on him. You must know that power controls everything and Dirty South is a fucked up place. If you ain’t with someone, you against them. Some of your close friends from back in the day can be snakes too. Not everything is sweet."

She dropped the call, sighing deeply. "I am in control of power now. At the snap of my finger, everyone will fall in place."

"I guess we're not going to the party." Brandy leaned back into the car seat.

Coco stared at the deserted untidy road from the rear side mirror as Vill roughly rode her and Brandy. Her cheeks were cold while she tried to gather her thoughts. She spoke rapidly, gesticulating wildly, making faces to emphasize a point.

Christ! Vill hated himself and Chief Kaave even more, for having him drive the witch to the 2025 annual function of TRENDZ. But she was the most sensual woman he had ever laid eyes on...

"Vill?" Coco questioned sharply. "Are you listening to me?" She felt a sharp sense of frustration.

"Yes ma." He replied quickly, feeling embarrassed because she was only a slip of a girl, what was she now, twenty seven or eight? and yet she was so bright and knowing, perhaps bossy. She probably knew what he was thinking.

Coco Kaave. Daughter of his boss, Chief Kaave.

Bitch, spoiled, heartless, quick to temper, temptress. Vill knew her as all of those things.

"Vill, you just have to do this" She fumbled in an oversized Gucci bag and produced a pack of cookies, giving some to Vill and her childhood friend, Brandy.  "No way it is the right time for me to leave the country. No way. You must stop my dad from doing this."

He shrugged and continued driving, while munching the cookies. Sometimes she could be so stupid. How could she expect anyone to stop Chief Kaave from doing exactly what he wanted, how could she expect him to rebel against Chief Kaave? His loyalty lay with only Chief Kaave. As his daughter, she above all others should know that.

After all, Chief Kaave and Coco were two of a kind, they were as alike as two separate people could ever hope to be. Even physically she looked just like her father. The same aggressively sexual face, brown skinned, with deep set smoldering black eyes and wide sensual lips.

The only difference being the nose: Chief Kaave's was masculine and prominent; hers was smaller, more suited to her femininity.

They both had black curly hair. Coco wore hers shoulder length in a tangled mass of jet curls, and Chief Kaave, at seventy plus, still had a fine head of hair.

"Are you going to do as I say?" She demanded. "Well?" Tight lipped, she demanded. "Well? Are you?"

Vill thought it best not to mention that at that very moment Chief Kaave was in a jet circling the city. Soon he would be landing. Soon he would be at the annual function. Coco would just have to face the fact that her father had not forgiven her yet.

Did she even know that her father would be relieving her of her duties at Trendz immediately after the annual function? Christ! The shit was going to hit the fan, and he, Vill, was going to be right on target.

After fifteen minutes of driving, Vill dozed off behind the steering wheel causing the car to stop abruptly. Coco, remorseless, stared at Brandy who was also deep asleep.

The timing was perfect. Coco took a deep breath, moved Vill to the back of the car and drove. She headed towards Southside. She looked around and recognized the two police men on patrol. She reached out her hand through the window and handed the police officers a few bucks.

A slow smile worked it's way across her face, as they signaled her to drive through. A smile that said maybe the game wasn't all that important. She was crazy to think that. The police men understood the assignment.

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