Page 55 of Cannon
“Twenty thousand?” I nearly choked. “Are you serious right now?”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t life or death,” she whimpered, her voice suddenly small and vulnerable. The quick shift in tone was so familiar it made my skin crawl. “Baby girl, please. You’re all I got. I raised you the best I could…”
“The best you could?” I cut her off, memories flooding back. “You mean like when you shaved my eyebrows off and told everyone I had cancer? Or when you forged my signature to take out credit cards in my name? Or how about when you disappeared for weeks and I had to figure out how to feed myself at eleven years old?”
“That’s not fair,” she hissed. “I was sick. I’ve apologized. I’ve done better but…”
“But nothing. I don’t have any money for you. I’ve given all I can give. I have a business to run and a sick daughter to care for. The buck stops here. I’m sorry, Mama. It’s so fucked up that you would go through these great lengths to manipulate me. Please don’t call me anymore,” I said as I hung up on her.
I blocked her number as I began to feel myself have a panic attack. My breathing became erratic and I tried my best to slow it down like my therapist had taught me.
My hands began to tremble and memories of me pulling the trigger on Alfred flood my brain, burning down my spine. Mymother triggered this in me. I stood up and walked it off. I eventually found myself on the main floor near the bar.
“Give me a double shot of Patron,” I demanded of the bartender. I might as well drink the liquor that I couldn’t sell.
“You want me to start a tab for you?” he smiled back.
“Boy don’t fuck with me right now…”
Chill, I told myself. Things would be okay. ZaZa and I had dinner together the other night and it went smoothly. I think she’s finally coming around to the idea that she will be living with me. I’m still nervous because I know how those mood swings can be. My mother’s were insane. There were times when she was on top of the world but then there were other times when I had to step in and be the mother.
The bartender poured my shot, sliding it across the bar with an apologetic look. I knocked it back in one swallow, letting the burn of the liquor distract me from the trembling in my hands.
“Another,” I demanded, tapping the glass on the counter.
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
I whipped around at the sound of that deep voice, coming face to face with Cannon. Where the hell had he come from? His oceanic eyes scanned my face, seeing too much as usual.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
“I’m fine,” I snapped, turning back to the bar. “Don’t you have something to guard? Or are you just following me around now?”
Instead of answering, Cannon gripped my elbow, his touch firm but not painful. When I looked up at him, his eyes had gone cold and hard. That look, the one that said he wasn’t taking any of my shit today, made my stomach flip.
“Follow me,” he said. Not a request. A command.
Before I could protest, he was guiding me away from the bar, his large hand at the small of my back as he led me throughthe crowd. I wanted to fight, to dig in my heels and refuse to be handled like this, but something in me couldn’t resist following him. My body moved on autopilot, my mind still reeling from my mother’s call.
We made it to the stairs, and he practically marched me up them, his grip never loosening. When we reached my office, he pushed the door open and guided me inside, kicking it shut behind us.
“What the fuck do you think you’re—” I started, but before I could finish, Cannon had me pinned against the wall, his massive frame caging me in. His hands pressed against the wall on either side of my head, his face inches from mine.
“What’s wrong with you?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “And don’t lie to me. I can see it all over you.”
I tried to push him away, but it was like trying to move a brick wall. “Get off me, Cannon. I’m not in the mood for your shit right now.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you in the mood for. You’re in the mood for whatever I tell you you’re in the mood for. This ain’t some game for me.” He pressed closer, his body heat enveloping me. “I’m trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with you.”
I felt the wall solid against my back, his arms creating a cage I couldn’t escape. My heart hammered in my chest, anger and arousal mixing dangerously. I wanted to slap him, to scream, to tell him to back the fuck off, but another part of me wanted him to stay exactly where he was.
“Maybe I need to fuck whatever this is out of you,” he growled, his lips so close I could feel his breath on my skin. “Maybe that’s what you need right now.”
The boldness of his words should have infuriated me. Instead, a shock of heat rushed through my body, settling between my thighs. My nipples hardened against my silk blouse,and I knew he noticed because his eyes flickered down for just a second.
“I’m just stressed.”
“About what? Who the fuck I gotta kill?” he growled.
