Page 98 of Cannon
“Shit,” I muttered, rubbing my hand over my face. “You right. You absolutely right.”
I stared at the liquor in my glass, seeing my reflection distorted in the whiskey. All this time I’d been punishing myself to prove some point that didn’t even matter. Twenty million sitting there while I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor like some stubborn-ass child.
“The Kings took five years of my life. Took my father before I ever knew him. Took my chance at a normal life.” I looked up at Choke, clarity washing over me like cold water. “And I’m letting them take more by not claiming what’s mine. That stops today.”
Choke nodded, satisfaction spreading across his face. “About damn time.”
I downed the rest of my drink and stood up. “I appreciate you, my nigga. For real.”
“Where you going?” he asked, eyebrow raised.
“To fix my shit,” I answered, extending my hand.
He clasped it firmly, pulling me in for a quick shoulder bump. “Go get your paper, brother. And your woman.”
I stepped out into the night, the weight on my shoulders lighter than it had been in years. The decision felt right, like something clicking into place. I pulled out my phone and dialed Creed’s number as I walked.
“Sup?” he answered.
“I’m ready. The inheritance. I want it,” I replied.
Silence stretched between us for a moment. “What changed your mind?”
“I earned it,” I said simply. “With blood and time.”
“Come to the office tomorrow morning. Nine sharp.” His voice had shifted, all business now. “There’s something else we need to discuss as well.”
“What’s that?”
“Tomorrow,” he repeated. “Some things are better said in person.”
I hung up and immediately dialed Queen. Straight to voicemail. I tried again. Same result.
“Fuck,” I muttered, typing out a text:You were right. I was being stupid. We need to talk. Pick up your phone.
I stared at the screen, willing those three dots to appear. Nothing. She was probably still pissed, or maybe finally sleeping after everything that happened. Either way, I needed to see her, to apologize, to tell her about my decision.
My apartment was just a few blocks away. I’d shower, change, then head to her place. Even if I had to kick her door in, we were going to talk this out.
The night air felt good against my skin as I walked, my mind racing with possibilities. With that kind of money, I could help Queen get Sylk Road back on its feet. Could set up a fund for Jupiter’s son. Could get a real place, something worthy of having Queen in it. Maybe even that bed and breakfast upstate she’d mentioned.
For the first time since getting out of prison, the future looked like more than just surviving day to day. It looked like something worth building.
I rounded the corner to my block and immediately sensed something was off. Two squad cars parked at awkward angles in front of my building, lights flashing silently, painting the street in alternating red and blue. A small crowd of neighbors had gathered to watch the show.
My first thought was Javi. That punk-ass cop coming for revenge after the beating I gave him. I slowed my pace, weighing my options. I could turn around, disappear for a few days. But the thought of running didn’t sit right. I wasn’t going back to prison over that bitch-made motherfucker.
Before I could decide, a uniformed officer spotted me. “Cannon Price?”
“Who’s asking?” I responded, tension coiling in my muscles.
“NYPD. We need you to come with us.” Two more officers appeared behind him, hands resting on their holsters.
I held my ground. “What’s this about?”
“We have a warrant for your arrest for domestic assault and battery.”
My brain short-circuited. “Domestic assault? What the fuck are you talking about?”
