Page 67 of Cannon
“What do you think? Money laundering.” She knocked back the second shot, wincing as it went down. “Clean his dirty cash through my legitimate business.”
The pieces clicked together in my head. Her strange behavior all night, the way she’d been looking over her shoulder. Smoke had gotten to her.
“When did he approach you about this?” I asked, my voice dropping an octave.
“Tonight. In the parking lot.” She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Said it wasn’t a negotiation.”
I felt my blood begin to boil, a slow, dangerous heat spreading through my veins. The thought of Smoke cornering her, threatening her—my Queen, made something primal rise up inside me.
“Did he touch you?” The words came out as a growl.
She hesitated just long enough for me to know the answer before she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is I’m fucked. If I say no, he’ll make problems for…”
“I’ll handle Smoke.”
My voice came out flat, dangerous. The tequila bottle froze in Queen’s hand mid-pour, her eyes snapping up to mine.
“You don’t understand what you’re saying,” she replied, setting the bottle down. “Smoke isn’t some random hustler. He’s connected. Dangerous.”
Something hot and ugly twisted in my gut. Did she think I was some soft-ass security guard who couldn’t handle real problems? Like I was just muscle for show?
“You think I don’t know who the fuck Smoke is?” I moved closer, my voice dropping lower. “I know him better than most. Better than you.”
Queen’s eyes widened slightly. “What are you talking about?”
“Me and Smoke go way back. Before I went inside.” I leaned across the bar, close enough to smell her perfume. “He was my mentor once. Taught me the game when I was just a kid running corners.”
She shook her head, not believing me. “That’s impossible. You never mentioned?—”
“There’s a lot I haven’t mentioned. You barely know shit about me.” I cut her off. “But trust me when I say I know exactly how to handle him.”
“No.” Queen’s voice hardened, her boss-bitch persona sliding back into place. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not letting you get involved. This is my problem.”
That shit stung. After everything we’d shared, she still didn’t trust me. Still saw me as an employee.
I felt my jaw tighten, rage building inside me like a storm. She really thought I couldn’t handle Smoke? Like I was some regular-ass security guard who needed protecting?
“My problem?” I stepped around the bar, closing the distance between us in three long strides. “Is that what you think? That I’m just some nigga who works for you? That I can’t handle a nigga like Smoke?”
Queen backed up until she hit the wall of bottles behind her. “That’s not what I…”
“Nah, that’s exactly what you meant.” I grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at me. “You think I’m beneath him. Lesser than. Like I ain’t been in these streets longer than you been running this club.”
“Cannon, I swear…”
“Shut up the fuck up,” I cut her off, tightening my hold just enough to make her gasp. “You think I’m scared of Smoke? That motherfucker should be scared of me. I let him breathe because it suited me, not because I couldn’t handle him.”
I yanked her across the bar top, scattering glasses that crashed to the floor. She gasped as I pulled her body flush against mine, her tits pressed against my chest.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I was just trying to pro…”
“To what? Protect me?” I laughed, the sound dark and dangerous even to my own ears. “Baby, I’ve been moving in shadows you can’t even see. Don’t ever think I need your permission to handle my business.”
I spun her around, bending her over the bar, her ass pressed against my hardening dick. My hand stayed wrapped in her hair, keeping her pinned while my other hand slid up her thigh, bunching her dress around her waist.
“You been treating me like I’m beneath you since day one,” I growled in her ear, feeling her shiver against me. “Time you learned who’s really in control here.”
“Cannon, please,” she moaned, but her body betrayed her, pressing back against my erection.
