Page 116 of Cannon
“Mr. Price, everything is in order. Your new Range Rover is ready whenever you are.”
Twenty minutes later, I was pulling out of the dealership in my new whip, the engine purring beneath me like a satisfied beast. The leather seats cradled me like they were custom-made for my frame. I cranked up the stereo, letting the bass thump through the premium speakers as I navigated through midday traffic.
For the first time since getting out of prison, I felt something close to peace. I had money in the bank, a purpose ahead of me, and a woman who saw past all my walls. The board position at King Industries was just the beginning. I was gonna build something that would last, something Queen and I could share.
My phone rang through the car’s Bluetooth system, interrupting my thoughts. I hit the button on the steering wheel to answer, expecting Queen’s voice.
Instead, I heard a small, frightened voice that sent ice through my veins.
“Uncle Cannon?” It was Hunter and he sounded like he was crying.
“Hunter? What’s wrong, little man?”
“It’s Mama,” he choked out, his voice barely audible through what sounded like hyperventilating. “She’s going crazy, Uncle Cannon. She’s throwing things and screaming. I’m scared.”
“I’m on my way.”
I knew I should be staying away from Reese but I couldn’t with my nephews in harm’s way.
Chapter 44
Cannon
I ran every red light between Manhattan and Jersey, my grip tight on the steering wheel of my new Range Rover. Hunter’s terrified voice kept playing in my head like a broken record. The rational part of my brain screamed that this was a trap, that Reese was using the boys to lure me back after she’d already tried to put me in a cage. But those were my nephews. I couldn’t turn my back on them, no matter what their mother had done.
The tires squealed as I pulled into Reese’s driveway, barely throwing the car into park before I was out and running toward the front door. The neighborhood was quiet, peaceful. Nobody would guess the storm raging inside that suburban facade.
I didn’t bother knocking. Just turned the handle and pushed my way in.
“Reese!” I called out, my voice echoing through the house.
What I saw stopped me cold. The place looked like a hurricane had torn through it. Furniture overturned, pictures smashed, glass everywhere. The flat-screen TV lay shattered on the floor, and what looked like red wine stained the beige carpet like spilled blood.
Before I could process the destruction, Hunter came flying around the corner, his small body crashing into mine withenough force to knock the breath from my lungs. His arms wrapped around my waist, face buried against my stomach.
“Uncle Cannon,” he sobbed, his whole body trembling. “You came.”
I dropped to one knee, putting myself at his eye level. His face was streaked with tears, eyes wide with a fear no child should know.
“Where is she?” I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the rage building inside me at seeing him like this.
“Upstairs,” he whispered, glancing fearfully toward the staircase. “She locked herself in her room after she broke everything. She was screaming about how nobody loves her, how everybody leaves.” He swallowed hard. “She said she was gonna make it all stop.”
My blood turned to ice. I knew exactly what that meant.
“Hunter, I need you to go outside and wait in my car. It’s unlocked.” I pressed the key fob into his small hand. “Can you do that for me?”
He nodded, but his eyes darted toward the stairs. “What about Josiah?”
“I’ll get him. Don’t worry. Just go, now.”
I waited until the front door closed behind him before taking the stairs two at a time. The destruction continued upstairs, more broken glass, clothes strewn everywhere, a hole punched through the drywall. As I passed the boys’ bedroom, I paused, some sixth sense making me look inside.
The room was relatively untouched compared to the rest of the house, but it felt wrong. Too quiet.
“Josiah?” I called softly, scanning the room.
A small sniffle came from under the bed. I crouched down and peered into the darkness, my heart nearly stopping when I saw Josiah’s wide, terrified eyes staring back at me. His smallhands were clamped over his mouth, body curled into a tight ball.
