Page 59 of Cannon
I let myself in quietly, dropping my purse on the entryway table. The sound of running water told me the shower was on. As I approached the bathroom, I heard ZaZa’s music playing inside.
I headed to my bedroom, peeling off my dress that still smelled like Cannon. I’d have to wait for my shower. Maybe that was for the best. Give me time to come down from this high.
On my way back to the kitchen for some water, I passed ZaZa’s room. The door was partially open, and something caught my eye. A small flash of foil in her trash can. I shouldn’t havelooked. I should’ve respected her privacy. But maternal instinct kicked in, and I found myself pushing the door open wider.
There it was. An empty condom wrapper, crumpled but unmistakable.
My first reaction was relief. Thank God she was being safe. My second was anger. Who the fuck had she brought into my house?
I backed out of her room, trying to control my breathing. I couldn’t flip out on her. Not after everything she’d been through. But we definitely needed to have a conversation about boundaries.
But for now, let me just enjoy the bliss of Cannon’s essence still on me.
Chapter 23
Cannon
I lay back on that cheap-ass air mattress, staring at the ceiling while it creaked under my weight like it was begging me to get the fuck off. My body was spent, but my mind kept running like a muthafucka on crack.
Queen.
Her name alone made my dick twitch. I could still taste her on my tongue, still feel the way her walls gripped me when she came. The way she finally broke down and begged me. Queen, the boss bitch who ran her club with an iron fist, begging me to make her come.
“Fuck,” I muttered, throwing my arm over my eyes.
I’d crossed a line I knew better than to cross. I swore off women until I got my money but I couldn’t turn away from her. Her attitude intrigued me. I liked breaking her. I loved how she could punk every other nigga that crossed her path but me. She needed a nigga like me. And I needed a woman like her. I needed that challenge. She was imprinted on me and even after my hot shower, there was no washing her off. I had to have her completely.
The mattress let out another pathetic squeak as I shifted. This whole apartment was a joke, bare walls, no furniture exceptthis air mattress and a milk crate I used as a nightstand. My clothes still in duffel bags piled in the corner. Five years inside, and this was what I came home to. A far cry from the life I’d built before prison.
Before Silas King took it all away.
I needed to stay focused on getting my money back, on finding that seed phrase. On making sure Smoke didn’t figure out Riot was my half-brother. The half-brother I didn’t even fuck with but still wouldn’t throw him to the wolves. Not to the likes of Smoke. Smoke may have given me my first opportunity to get some real money when I was a kid, but Riot was blood and ain’t never really did shit to me. It was his parents I hated. Our mother I detested. And they were both dead now.
I was drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness when my phone buzzed against the milk crate, vibrating loud as fuck against the hollow plastic. My body tensed instantly, eyes snapping open in the darkness.
“Yeah?” I answered, voice thick with sleep.
“Cannon…” Reese’s voice came through broken, like she was struggling to breathe between words. “They found Gage. He’s dead.”
My body went completely still. For a heartbeat, I said nothing, just let her words settle into my bones.
“Where are you?” I asked, keeping my voice steady, controlled. Big brother mode activated automatically. “Are the boys with you?”
“At home. They’re sleeping.” She broke into sobs. “Police just left. They said… they said it looks like a mugging gone wrong. Found him in an alley downtown.”
“I’m on my way,” I said.
I got off the phone and slid my feet to the floor, the cheap mattress finally getting a break from my weight. My hands weresteady as I reached for my pants, but inside, something dark and satisfied uncurled in my chest.
The job was done. Clean. Just like I’d planned.
I headed out the door to be with my sister.
I reached Reese’s place in record time, my foot heavy on the gas the whole way. The streets blurred past me, empty at this hour except for the occasional drunk stumbling home. My mind stayed calm, calculating, rehearsing what I’d say. How I’d act surprised when she told me the details.
When I pulled up to her house, every light was on inside. I took the porch steps two at a time, not bothering to knock. The door was unlocked.
“Reese?” I called out, stepping into the living room.
