About White Knight
Preview of The Fall of Legend
About the Author
Also by Meghan March
Book Two of the Dirty Mafia Duet
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Copyright © 2019 by Meghan March LLC
All rights reserved.
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Editor: Pam Berehulke, Bulletproof Editing,
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Cover Design: Hang Le, By Hang Le, www.byhangle.com
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Cover Photo: Regina Wamba, Mae I Design,
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Visit my website at www.meghanmarch.com
About White Knight
From New York Times bestselling author Meghan March comes a story of untold truths and one man’s redemption in the Dirty Mafia Duet.
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I never expected to be anyone’s white knight. That’s not a role I’ve ever played.
But when the Casso crime family shifts into uncharted territory, they’re looking for a new hero, and they’re looking for me—Cannon Freeman, the black sheep.
But my time in disgrace is at an end.
It’s my turn to rise up and save the people who matter most to me.
Even if my family has never given a damn about me, I will not let them fall.
More than anything, I will not let her fall.
One thing I know is true—in my life, nothing is ever what it seems.
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White Knight is the second book in the Dirty Mafia Duet and should be read before Black Sheep, book one.
Twenty-five years earlier
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Even the weather got the memo that today was the crappiest day ever to hit the city. The dark gray skies spat rain and snow as the limo driver crawled his way down the street, even with a police escort.
That’s right, a police escort, and they weren’t even taking us to jail or to court. No, they took us to the cemetery on Long Island where Mom’s casket would be buried six feet under. I refused to think about her in that box. I didn’t care that all the capos’ wives said Dominic Casso had gone above and beyond, picking out that fancy, shiny wood and pink satin interior himself.
The burn of rage flared inside me like a dumpster fire.
If she hadn’t still been trying to win him back, no one would have targeted her. He’s the reason she’s dead.
It was the God’s honest truth, and every single person on their way to this ridiculous funeral knew it. He’d killed her just as sure as if he’d pulled the trigger himself, unleashing the hail of bullets that tore through her and left her bleeding out on those steps.
I slammed my eyes shut when the memory of her blood seeping into the cracks of the concrete stole into my mind. It didn’t help.
I opened them to look into the face of the man who was responsible for the death of the only parent who’d claim me, except Dom wasn’t looking at me. He was staring out the window, probably wondering how soon he could leave and get back to business. Because everything was business to him. Even this.
“Watch him, Cannon. You’ll learn so much, and it’ll open so many doors for you. Just trust me on this.”
Mom had been naive at nineteen when Dom swept her off her feet, and she was even more naive the day she died—because she still believed in love and miracles and happily ever after. How the hell was that even possible?
Dom’s face turned and his enigmatic eyes drilled into me. “I can feel your fucking rage from over here, kid. You know I took care of it.”
Dom’s gruff voice sounded exactly like it always did. It wasn’t hoarse from grief due to the solemn occasion playing out today. Of course not. Because a man like Dominic Casso wasn’t capable of tears. Wasn’t capable of giving a single damn that a woman who loved him more than life itself was gunned down on his goddamned stoop.
My jaw tightened as I tried to pull it together, or at least bury my feelings and slap a mask of indifference over them.
But I couldn’t.
“She was my mother,” I said from between clenched teeth. “Someone killed her. In cold blood. Because of you.”
My nostrils flared and my fingers curled into fists. I wanted to throw myself across the back seat of the limo and bloody my knuckles destroying his face until the driver slammed on the brakes and ripped me out of the car. They’d probably put a bullet in me and leave me for dead. Just like Mom.
But I didn’t do it.
Because Mom wouldn’t have wanted that. There was nothing I could do that would go against her wishes more than causing that kind of trouble for myself.
“Be the smart, sweet boy we both know you are, and he won’t be able to help but love you. He’ll see that you’re different. You’re meant for big things.”
Mom had such high hopes for my future, but I didn’t share even a flicker of the optimism she had. Future, I scoffed silently. What the hell was that now?
I finally lifted my eyes to Dom once more, but his gaze hadn’t wavered an inch.
With his arm against the door, he held his chin as he spoke. “What you’re feeling right now? Embrace it. Hold it. Remember it. Don’t you ever fucking forget how this moment feels. To have something taken from you before you were ready to give it up is the ultimate insult.”
Dom glanced out the window, but my attention snagged on the clenched hand at his side. He straightened his fingers twice before locking them together in a fist. When his eyes came back to me, they were teeming with wrath.
“And then the next time someone wrongs you, you reach down inside and grab hold of this feeling with