Page 40 of Cannon
“One of my dancers hasn’t heard from her uncle in a while. She’s worried about him,” I lied. I refused to tell him the truth. I couldn’t go to prison for something I did when I was a kid.
“Which dancer?”
“Keisha Dixon. You don’t know her.” The lie rolled off my tongue smooth as silk, but I could feel heat creeping up my neck. I moved to the window again, looking out at the city instead ofmeeting his eyes. “She asked me to check on him because she knows I know people who can find people.”
“Keisha…” Javi’s voice had that flat quality it got when he was processing information he didn’t quite believe. “And she can’t call the police herself because…?”
“Because she’s an exotic dancer who doesn’t trust cops.” I shot him a pointed look over my shoulder. “Wonder why that might be.”
It was a good deflection, personal enough to sting, logical enough to be believable. But Javi wasn’t backing down.
“What’s his full name? Address? Date of birth?”
My stomach clenched. These were the kinds of questions that could expose me, and Javi’s training was kicking in hard. I could feel him building a case file in his head, looking for inconsistencies.
“I don’t have all that,” I said, moving to straighten a pillow on my couch that didn’t need straightening. “Just his name. Alfred Dixon. He lives somewhere in North Carolina, I think.”
“You think.” Javi leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Queen, you asking me to run someone through the system with just a name and a general location. That’s not how this works.”
“Look, I know it’s not much to go on,” I said, forcing my voice to stay level. “But she’s really worried. Her mother died and she wants to tell him. She hasn’t heard from him since she was a little girl.”
“Okay…” he looked at me skeptically.
“It’s been years and she wants to know if something has happened to him.”
Something had happened to him. I’d put a bullet in his skull. The question was whether he’d stayed dead or had missing family that knew about me.
“I’ll see what I can find,” he said as he headed out of my apartment.
The deadbolt turned with a decisive click that echoed through my apartment like a gunshot.
I pressed my back against the door, finally allowing myself to breathe now that Javi was gone and I didn’t have to perform anymore. Didn’t have to pretend I was asking innocent questions about some dancer’s missing uncle.
My eyelids began to get heavy and when I finally laid down for sleep, all I could see was Cannon.
Chapter 15
Cannon
The diner looked like it hadn’t been updated since the eighties, all cracked vinyl booths and sticky floors that grabbed at your shoes with every step.
I slid into the back booth, positioning myself where I could see both exits and every face that walked through that door. Old habits. Prison taught me that relaxing got you stabbed in the shower, and the streets before that taught me the same lesson with different consequences.
The waitress looked like she’d been working here since those same eighties, moving slow with the kind of tiredness that lived in your bones. A few early-morning customers scattered throughout, construction workers grabbing coffee before their shift, a homeless man nursing a cup in the corner, a young couple coming down from whatever high had them up all night. None of them looked like threats, but I catalogued each face anyway.
My body felt the weight of the night, the long hours standing, watching, being alert. But my mind kept drifting back to Queen’s office. The way her pulse had jumped under my palm when I grabbed her throat. The shock in those sharp eyes that alwayshad something slick to say. For a second, just one second, I’d seen past all that boss bitch armor she wore.
“You ever speak to me like that again, especially in front of someone else, and I’ma bend you over this desk…”
My dick stiffened at the memory. The way her thighs had pressed together when I’d made my point. She could front all she wanted, but her body told a different story. Queen might run that club with an iron fist, but there was something in her that wanted to submit to me. I could smell it on her like expensive perfume. After touching her like that, I had decided she was going to be mine. Fuck whatever dynamic we had. Me working for her was temporary. I needed to break her in the best way.
The bell above the door chimed, snapping me out of thoughts. In walked Smoke.
The construction workers looked up from their coffee. The homeless man in the corner squinted through the haze of whatever was keeping him upright. Even the tired-ass waitress paused her slow shuffle to stare. Which was exactly what Smoke wanted, all eyes on him, everyone knowing exactly who just walked into their space.
He spotted me immediately, that gold-tooth grin spreading across his face like we were long-lost brothers instead of… whatever the fuck we were now. Former boss and former employee. Former partners in crime. Former friends, if you could call what we had friendship.
“Damn, Cannon,” he said. “I’m glad you decided to link with me. The fact that I’m just now seeing you after five years hurt my feelings.”
