Page 74 of Cannon
“Yeah, well, she didn’t see it that way. She checked out completely. Couldn’t even look at me most days. My sister Reese and I basically raised ourselves after that.”
“Is that when you met Smoke?” I asked gently.
He nodded. “I was in middle school, hustling on corners to keep food in the house. Smoke noticed me, said I had heart, that I was smart. Took me under his wing.” His laugh was bitter. “Taught me the game, showed me how to move, how to lead. By sixteen, I was running crews for him, making more money than I’d ever seen.”
I finished wrapping gauze around his knuckles, but didn’t let go of his hand. The pieces were falling into place now, his confidence, his authority, the way he commanded respect without even trying. He’d been a leader since he was a teenager, had learned to survive in a world most people couldn’t imagine.
“Smoke became like a father to me,” he continued. “Or at least that’s what I thought at the time. Now I know better. He was just using me, same as he uses everyone.”
I moved to sit beside him on the edge of the tub, our shoulders touching. “So what happened with Riot today? How did you end up fighting your own brother?”
“I was trying to warn him that Smoke put a hit out on him. Half a million to whoever takes him out.” Cannon’s mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “Offered me the job first, not knowing we’re related.”
“Jesus,” I whispered. “And Riot didn’t believe you?”
“We were ambushed at the diner. Smoke’s son Nero and his crew shot the place up. After, Riot accused me of setting them up.” He touched his bruised cheek. “We exchanged words, then fists.”
“So now what?” I asked, suddenly afraid of the answer.
“Now I handle Smoke,” he said simply, as if discussing the weather instead of murder. “Before he figures out what you mean to me and tries to use you as leverage.”
My heart stuttered at his words. What you mean to me. The casual way he claimed me made my heart stop.
“I won’t let you face him alone,” I said firmly. “This is my fight too. He threatened my club, my livelihood.”
Cannon turned to face me fully, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “This isn’t a discussion, Queen. Smoke is my problem to solve. I’ve been handling men like him my whole life. If you try anything stupid, you will answer to me.”
I wanted to argue, to remind him that I wasn’t some damsel who needed protecting. But the tenderness in his touch silenced me. For the first time in years, someone was fighting my battles for me instead of the other way around.
“I’m scared for you,” I admitted, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. I wasn’t used to admitting fear, to showing vulnerability.
“Don’t be,” he said, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. “I’ve survived worse than Smoke.”
I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes. “Stay here tonight,” I whispered. “Please. ZaZa’s going out later. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”
His eyes darkened, desire replacing the coldness that had been there moments before. “You sure about that?”
“Very sure,” I replied, my body already humming with anticipation. “I want you in my bed tonight, not out there risking your life.”
He leaned forward, his lips brushing mine in a kiss so gentle it made my chest ache. “One night,” he agreed. “But tomorrow, I finish this. For both of us.”
I nodded, knowing there was no changing his mind. Cannon Price was a force of nature, unstoppable once set in motion. All Icould do was hold on tight and pray we both survived the storm that was coming.
Chapter 29
Cannon
I stared at her hands as she finished wrapping the gauze around my knuckles, feeling naked in a way that had nothing to do with clothes. Something in my chest tightened, a pressure building behind my ribs that made it hard to breathe. I’d just laid out my whole fucked-up life story for this woman, shit I hadn’t told anyone since getting out. Not about my dad’s murder, not about my relationship with Smoke, and definitely not about my half-brothers. Hell, the only person who knew was Reese.
Why the fuck had I done that?
“Are you okay?” Queen asked, her voice soft as she tucked the end of the gauze under the wrap.
I pulled my hand back, flexing my fingers, testing the bandage. Too gentle. Too careful. Like I was something that needed protecting instead of the other way around.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “It’s fine.”
The silence stretched between us, heavy with all the shit I’d just spilled. I felt exposed, raw, like I’d peeled back my skin and let her see all the ugly underneath. I needed to get control back, needed to shift this energy before I started feeling even more shit I didn’t want to feel.
