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Page 18


  He releases his hold on my ass to lean forward and press his forehead to mine for a second. “No. You can take it. Take more. Own it, baby. It’s fucking yours.” He presses a kiss to my lips. “Just like I am. Take me. All of me.”

  I blink and his close-up features turn hazy, but I see everything I need to see. His eyes are clear and filled with desire for me.

  “Whatever you want,” I mumble. “Anything.”

  “That’s my girl. Now fucking come for me.”

  He pulls back and unleashes one last torrent of powerful strokes that ignite every nerve ending in my body.

  “Ahhh! Oh my God—Cannon!” My cry echoes off the high ceilings, enveloping us both as I lose myself into the unbelievable rush of sensations. My heart hammering, legs shaking, I come harder than I’ve ever come in my life.

  Through the static in my ears, I hear Cannon roar one word.

  “Mine!”

  38

  Cannon

  Her head lolls to one side as I brace myself over her body, beads of sweat rolling down my chest. My heart threatens to explode, but I can’t stop. Won’t stop. Not until she understands, in the best way I can tell her, that this isn’t a game anymore. This isn’t us putting on a show to keep her safe from Dom.

  This is us. Me and the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met. The woman who might just have ruined me for all others. But at least, if I’m lucky, I’ve done the same for her.

  She’s mine.

  That’s nonnegotiable.

  I may not know every goddamned thing about her, but I know enough to make my decision. Everything else comes second to following my instincts, and they laid claim to her the moment she walked through the door.

  I tried to resist it. Push it away. Tell myself she was off-limits, but I should have known I couldn’t fight it.

  Dipping my head from where it hangs above her chest, I press a kiss to her jaw. “I’ll get you a washcloth, baby. Stay right here.”

  I start to pull out, but her limp hand lifts off the covers and grips my forearm. “Not yet. Please. Just . . . stay a second.”

  I drop another kiss at the corner of her mouth. “You like being full of me?”

  Her hips shift, and she presses me back inside.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Finally, her eyes open, and those piercing turquoise-blue irises stare back at me. “You can take that as a hell yes.” Then her lids drift closed, and I know she’s moments away from dropping off into an exhausted sleep.

  I can handle that.

  After another thirty seconds, I pull out and she doesn’t protest. Her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. Asleep.

  I can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth as I glance in the bathroom mirror and then dispose of the condom.

  “She’s the one,” I whisper to no one in particular, but that’s because the words are for someone very specific—my mother.

  She told me I’d know, without a shadow of a doubt, when I met her. I never believed my overly romantic mother because I chalked up the sentiment to her being too young when Dom swept her off her feet. At least, I didn’t believe her until this very moment. I’ve stayed alive by following my gut, and it’s never led me astray, so I have to believe it now.

  She’s the one. This is it.

  After wetting a washcloth with warm water, I move quietly back into the bedroom where Drew is still sleeping. She’s out, not even waking up when I gently clean her up and then move her onto a pillow. Once she’s tucked beneath the sheet and comforter, I press a kiss to her forehead.

  “Sleep, baby. I’ll be right here.”

  Except, I didn’t know that I was lying.

  As soon as I move out into the kitchen to grab a leftover slice of pizza to feed my growling stomach, I see my phone on the counter. The screen is lit up with notifications. Texts and calls. All from employees at the club.

  Well, fuck.

  I take a bite and call Grice, because he’s the most likely to give me an unbiased rundown of whatever the hell is going on to precipitate this many calls.

  Visions of flames licking up the building dance in my head until he picks up.

  “What’s going on? Is everyone okay?”

  “Thank fuck, you finally called. What do you want me to do with her?” His question makes no sense because I have absolutely no context at all.

  “Who? What happened?” I ask, then choke down the bite of pizza.

  “Teal. Stefano posted the schedule for next month, and when she saw she wasn’t on it, she flipped the fuck out. I thought she knew she was done. Didn’t you tell her, Boss?” Grice’s frantic tone tells me what I’ve long suspected—that his soft spot for Teal runs deep.

  “Fuck.” I bite out the curse. “Tanya was supposed to tell her. We agreed it was easier to take coming from her sister. But apparently that didn’t fucking happen. What did she do?”

  “She screamed at Stefano, scared half the guests, and then grabbed a bottle of Belvedere and ran into the break room where she’s shitfaced and crying. I chased her down and made her take one of her Xanax before she could start chugging the vodka.”

  “Jesus Christ, Teal,” I murmur, hating the idea that she’s so unstable that we can’t make a move without her chugging vodka and popping pills. How the hell did we get to this point? The next thought through my brain is how the hell members are going to take it. “Where is she now?”

  “Still in the break room. Every time either Tanya or I try to touch her, she screams and threatens to call the cops and tell them everything she’s seen.” In the background, muted voices go silent as Grice must step into an empty room.

  “Jesus Christ,” I whisper, opening the trash and tossing the half-eaten slice of pizza into it. “Teal’s going to get herself killed that way. Fucking hell. I’m on my way. We have to get her out of there before Dom finds out what’s happening.”

  “That’s why I’ve been calling you. She’s a nice girl, but she got caught off guard. You know she’s delicate in a way that no one else is.”

  “I’ll be right there. Keep her as quiet as you can. You just might save her life.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can, Boss. Count on me.”

  I hang up and curse Tanya and Teal for ruining this night for me, but it doesn’t do any good. I still have to leave Drew sleeping in my bed.

  I tiptoe through the bedroom where her head is now tilted toward the opposite wall, and grab clothes out of my walk-in closet without turning on a light. Putting a suit back on is the last thing I want to do, but business always comes first.

  Business shouldn’t always come first. I can practically hear my mother’s voice in my head, but regardless of whether that sentiment is right or not, I have no choice. Not if I don’t want Teal to turn up missing, because then Tanya would go on the warpath, and I have no doubt it wouldn’t end well.

  I leave a note for Drew on the counter and slip out of the apartment, locking the door behind me.

  39

  Drew

  I wake and sit up with a start, my eyes blinking rapidly as I try to focus on my surroundings.

  Where the hell am I?

  The smooth green sheets I’m lying on are imbued with a spicy, masculine cologne, and a tinge of musk that only comes from sex hangs in the air and on my skin. I know exactly where I am.

  Cannon’s place.

  It’s completely silent but for the sounds of the city drifting up from the street outside. Horns. A shout here or there. Doors slamming.

  “Cannon?” I mouth his name silently at first, as if I’m scared to voice it. Or my throat is just dry as hell from screaming out in passion. Either one.

  I listen harder for sounds of another person in his space, but it’s eerily quiet.

  “Cannon?” I call his name this time, but there’s no answer. I swing my legs to the side of the bed and snag a dress shirt from the floor as my feet hit the weathered wood.

  Slipping the shirt on, I luxuriate in bein
g surrounded by his scent as I pad from the bedroom out into the living room and kitchen area, looking for signs of life.

  “Cannon?”

  The third time I say his name without a response makes it official. He’s gone. I scan the kitchen and my gaze lands on a piece of paper on the counter with my name written at the top in bold strokes.

  * * *

  Drew –

  Had to take care of something at the club. Stay. I’ll be back as soon as I can.

  40

  Drew

  I read it a second time to make sure I’m not imagining words, but I’m not. He really left me sleeping in his bed to go back to work. The level of trust he’s placed in me is completely and utterly unwarranted, and yet a warm feeling blooms in my chest.

  My reporter instincts are telling me to use this time to search his office and dig into his files, but something holds me back. No, not something. Everything.

  “Mine.” I can still hear the possessive word echoing off the walls and ceilings. Never before in my life have I ever wanted anything to be more true.

  I’ve never belonged to someone. The other half of a pair. A couple.

  And you shouldn’t be thinking about this now, because he’s a target in your investigation.

  I tell my inner voice to shut the hell up because I’ve already decided that Cannon isn’t a target. I don’t believe he could have been involved with my father’s death. Not one single bit.

  But when I slip back into the bathroom to take care of my basic needs, I still open the almost invisible medicine cabinet and poke around inside. Not because I’m looking for leads or evidence, but because I’m looking for more Cannon. I spot a stick of deodorant and a bottle of cologne, and carefully pull them out one by one and sniff.

  God, this is why he always smells so decadent. I commit the scents to memory and know I won’t be able to smell them without thinking of him for the rest of my life.

  When I flip on the water in the cavernous shower, I tell myself I’m only going to rinse off, but I take the opportunity to smell his soap as it lathers between my hands.

  Yep, this is what I’m doing right now, and I don’t care how pathetic it is.

  Once I’m dry, I help myself to the robe hanging on the wall of the walk-in closet, and roll up the cuffs so they don’t hang over my hands. As I wander out into the living room, I make my way to the stereo sitting on an industrial set of bookshelves. I’m surprised to see a turntable and an entire cage-fronted cabinet beneath it that is filled with records.

  Records. As in vinyl. One of my weaknesses.

  I spent my teen years collecting all of my father’s favorites and gifted them to him with a refurbished turntable. He’d been thrilled, and every night, we’d spend an hour listening to them after he got home from broadcasting the evening news to the rest of America.

  To them, he was Leander Lockwood, the confident voice that delivered bad news with compassion and good news with excitement. To me, he’d just been Dad.

  The albums I’d given him over the years are all still resting in a place of honor in his home in Connecticut, which I’d been cleaning out when I found the stashed evidence that led me on this journey, where I met Cannon.

  Right now I should be snooping through his office, trying to build a case I could take to the Feds to bring down the entire Casso organization, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

  Not now.

  I don’t know if that makes me a piss-poor investigative journalist or simply human.

  When I put on a Led Zeppelin album and listen to the strains of “The Rain Song,” I push the self-recriminations out of my mind.

  I can worry about everything else tomorrow. But right now I’m going to eat pizza and wait for my man to come back.

  I just didn’t realize it would be a long wait.

  41

  Cannon

  “Are you seriously doing this right now?” I stare at Teal’s tearstained and mascara-streaked cheeks as she clutches a bottle of Belvedere on the break-room floor, wedged in a corner.

  Dammit, Grice. I curse him silently for his soft spot. You should’ve taken it from her.

  It took a direct order to get Tanya out of here and back out serving a twenty-person meeting with Stefano, and I sent Grice back to the door, so it’s just me and Teal for the moment. I should have taken this time with her earlier, sitting her down in my office and making sure she understood what was happening, but I didn’t want a scene. Now I’ve got a fucking mess instead.

  “You’re really firing me.” Her lips screw up into what I assume is supposed to be an expression that elicits sympathy, but all I see is an overemotional, entitled party girl who finally has to face the music.

  I jam my hands in my pockets and stare down at her. “You’re a shit employee, Teal. You know it and I know it.”

  “But—” She cuts off when I shake my head.

  “I didn’t say you were a bad person or a bad waitress, because you’re not. You’re damn good when you try, but your total lack of effort to even show up when you’re supposed to is a joke. I shouldn’t have to send a car service to get you four out of five nights. It’s bullshit.”

  “I’m sorry,” she wails.

  “Put the goddamned bottle down, or it’s coming out of your check.” My commanding tone leaves no room for argument.

  That gets her attention, and she lowers the bottle to the floor with a thunk as it hits the wood. “But I need the money.”

  It should be impossible to believe that this is the same woman who has charmed rich men from all walks of life into buying her jewelry, designer handbags, clothes, and God knows what else. If she’d been smart, she would have asked for more than just goods that would decline in value, like an apartment in her name. I know at least one or two men who would have bought it for her. But she doesn’t know when to stop, and she always fucks up a good thing.

  “If you could manage to show up on time and not be wasted or fucked up when you walk in the door, you’d have no problem collecting a paycheck.”

  Her shoulders shake as she snuffles. I want to feel sympathy for her, but it’s hard when I’ve extended every single lifesaver available, and she’s batted them all away for the last six months.

  “I’m done with your shit, Teal. You’re fired.”

  She looks up at me with blue eyes that are a perfect match to her sister’s, blinking as big tears tip over the lids. “But I have a problem. I need help, Cannon. I can’t stop. I don’t know what to do.”

  Fuck. Me.

  As if I’ve ever been able to walk away from someone who can admit they need help without my fucking offering it.

  She could be playing me. It could be a scam. Or maybe Teal is finally wising up to the fact that she’s a barely functional alcoholic who needs treatment desperately, and that’s before we even get to whatever pills she’s popping lately.

  I crouch down into a squat and meet her tear-filled eyes. “What kind of help do you need, Teal? Tell me and we’ll get it for you.”

  “She can’t be prettier than me, can she?” More tears stream down her face as I stare at her in bafflement.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Your new girl. The waitress Tanya says you hired to replace me, and now you’re banging her. Why not me, Cannon? I could’ve been your girl. I would’ve been so good at it. And now you’re throwing me out, and I don’t know what I’ll do.” She reaches for me.

  I pop back up to my feet and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Please say you’re fucking kidding me.”

  “Jesus Christ, Teal. Stop before you embarrass yourself more,” Tanya says from the doorway as she slips inside. “You said you wanted to hear that you were fired directly from Cannon. Now you have, so what the hell are you doing?”

  With her bottom lip out and pouting, Teal shakes her head at both me and Tanya. “You know I wasn’t serious about any of them. Just Cannon. But he never gave me a chance. That’s
why I tried to make him jealous with all of the others. But now he’s rejecting me.” The last two words come out with another wave of sobs.

  I struggle not to reach out and tell the woman to get the fuck up and act like a goddamned adult and not a kid crying over something she can’t have. But I can’t find it in me to come down on her even more harshly while she’s a goddamned mess.

  “You always said you never touched employees. So why her?”

  “Teal. Get up. You’re going home,” Tanya snaps the order and rushes around me.

  “I don’t want to go home until Cannon says I can stay!”

  At Teal’s begging, I harden my heart. It’s the only way I can deal with her. As Tanya helps her off the floor, I square my shoulders.

  “I’ll pay you three months’ severance, and Tanya will find you a treatment center where you’ll be able to go to rehab. I’ll cover the cost myself. If you decide to go and complete it, I’ll help you find a job somewhere else when you’re ready. You need help, Teal. It’s time.”

  With one hand clasped in her sister’s, Teal stares up at me like a princess who has just been told that her kingdom burned to ash.

  “Rehab? I’m not a junkie!” She yanks on Tanya’s hand and jerks away. “I swear I don’t need rehab. Just some time. That’s all.”

  As soon as she says all, Teal kicks over the bottle on the floor, and liquor spills all over my shoe and the carpet.

  “Jesus, Teal. We all know you need to go to rehab. You can’t beat this on your own,” Tanya says quietly as Teal gasps.

  I grit my teeth and close my eyes for a second to gather myself and my temper, but Teal takes it as an invitation. Her body slams against my chest, and her vodka-tinged lips sloppily press kisses against my mouth.

  My eyes snap open, but Tanya’s already got her by the shoulders, pulling her back and away from me.