Page 10 of Cannon (King Family Saga #3)

Queen

After meeting with Cannon, I got back to work. I also made several calls to check on my daughter. I was at my wit’s end with what to do next. Now that she’d been kicked out of school, she’d have to move back in with me.

And the truth was, I didn’t want to live with her anymore.

I’d had my fill of sharing space with unstable people.

My whole life had been shaped by it. My mother was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and histrionic personality disorder, which meant every day was a new performance.

One minute, she was charismatic and charming, lighting up the room like a one-woman stage show.

The next, she was spiraling into chaos, screaming at shadows and accusing me of betrayal because I didn’t pour her wine fast enough.

And to make matters worse, she was a scammer and forced me in on her scams.

It wasn’t just mood swings. It was emotional warfare. And I learned early on how to read her energy like weather patterns, predicting the storms, bracing for impact, pretending I was safe when I wasn’t.

Now here I was, staring down the barrel of déjà vu.

ZaZa was different, but the symptoms rhymed. The rage. The delusions. The mess she left in her wake, expecting me to clean it up while pretending I didn’t resent her for it.

And I did resent her.

Not because she was sick, but because I was tired.

Tired of tiptoeing. Tired of fixing. Tired of loving people who couldn’t love me back in the ways I needed.

And that made me feel like shit.

What kind of mother doesn’t want her child to come home?

But I wasn’t just her mother. I was also a woman trying to hold her own life together.

And I was cracking.

Being around ZaZa always brought my mother back to me.

Especially that night.

We were dressed to the nines. Me in a little navy dress with white tights and patent leather shoes that pinched my pinky toes, and Mama in a gold wrap dress that shimmered under streetlights, her lips painted blood red and her curls pinned up like she was headed to the Oscars.

She looked like money, even though we barely had enough to fill the tank.

“This is your night, baby,” she said, spritzing perfume behind her ears as we sat in the car. “You’re a queen. And queens eat lobster for their birthdays.”

I grinned wide, excited, believing her. It was my tenth birthday and I was having lobster for the first time ever.

We pulled up to the Red Lobster, and she smacked her lips like we were arriving at a five-star French bistro.

“Come on,” she said, stepping out of the car in stilettos. Her dress shimmered under the parking lot lights, and she held her chin high like royalty.

I smiled, flattered and confused, thinking she’d finally scrounged up enough money to treat us. We strutted into that Red Lobster, both of us dressed like we had no business being there on a weekday with less than ten dollars between us.

When we reached the tank, she leaned down, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You ready?” she whispered.

“For what?”

Her voice dropped, low and electric. “We’re takin’ dinner into our own hands tonight. Grab one and follow my lead.”

I was confused. “Mama—”

“No questions. We snatch and dash. Let’s go.”

Before I could talk her down, she’d already dipped her manicured hand into the water, quick as lightning, and pulled out a fat lobster. It flailed in her grip, claws trying to thrash but the rubber bands wouldn’t allow it. Water splashed all over her dress. And she laughed, loud and wild.

“Now you!” she yelled.

My hands trembled, but I reached in anyway. The cold hit me like a slap, but I managed to grab one, slippery and mean. My heart slammed against my ribs.

“Run!” she shouted.

We bolted, both of us dripping, lobster legs dangling out of our arms like cursed trophies. The hostess screamed. A busboy dropped a tray. Someone yelled, “Call the cops!”

But we were already out the door.

Back in the car, we were breathless and I was still confused. My mother was insane. That was just the first of many moments where she had grandiose, ridiculous ideas. She’s always thought she was owed the world. She always had to be the center of attention.

Hell, my name was an example of that. She named me Queen Marie and I’ve always been embarrassed by the name.

At home, she dropped them straight into a boiling pot, humming and dancing like she hadn’t just committed seafood theft in heels.

“You see this?” she said, twisting melted butter into lemon juice and sliding a plate toward me. “This is what luxury tastes like, baby. You don’t wait for it. You take it.”

I nodded, dazed and irritated by her antics. It was embarrassing running out of that restaurant with those lobsters.

“You’re a queen,” she said, licking her fingers. “Don’t you ever let nobody tell you different.”

I didn’t feel like a queen.

And now, looking at ZaZa unraveling in her own chaotic way, I wondered what exactly I’d passed down.

Not just the crown.

But the curse too.

A knock on my door dragged me out of my thoughts.

“Come in!” I called out.

And there he was, towering like a statue. He walked in, his eyes laser-focused on me.

“Welcome back,” I said.

“Thanks.”

“So, I’ll give you a tour and introduce you to everyone. What I need is someone to manage all of the security. Right now I have four. One man is at the entrance for patrons, another at the entrance for employees, and two are in the main club. I would need you to be my eyes and ears…”

I ran down all the logistics and rules of the club. I explained to him about money drop-offs and how he’d be responsible for escorting me. All of his references checked out and he seemed like he would be a good fit. But I could be wrong. Was I thinking with my pussy?

“Sounds good. You got a lot on your plate,” he commented.

“The responsibilities of a boss,” I replied.

Our eyes locked on one another but I needed to shift the mood.

Nothing was to ever happen between us. He’s my employee.

And when I looked at his driver’s license, I noticed he was only thirty years old.

He was a baby. I was ten years older than him.

He probably had no interest in me anyway. Even though I know I looked good.

“Let me give you a tour.”

“Cool.”

I just realized that I had never seen this man smile or even smirk.

His expression remained stone cold. There was something behind that hard exterior.

I could tell that he had experienced a hard life.

After living a hard life with my mother and working in this industry, you learn how to read people well.

And he was a mystery waiting to be solved. But I wasn’t going to play detective. He was none of my business. Just my damn employee.

“Don’t allow anyone up here in this office without verifying with me, understood?”

“Understood.”

“Even my daughter. If a girl named Esperanza or ZaZa ever comes around, come get me or call me. Do not let her in my office alone,” I directed.

ZaZa has snuck in my office before and stolen money from me. She knew that she wasn’t allowed in here but that wouldn’t stop her from manipulating someone into allowing her to come up here.

Soon we left my office. I could feel his eyes following me as we walked down the stairs. I felt his gaze on my ass.

I led him through the club like I was showing off a kingdom. VIP booths lined in black leather. Girls dripping in glitter and hustle. Bartenders flipping bottles like magicians. My team was moving like clockwork, but every cog turned because I made it.

“Security posts rotate every hour. No phones. No flirting. No drinking on duty. Your eyes and presence. Understood?”

“Understood.”

He didn’t talk much. Good. I had enough voices in my head already. But when he did talk his deep voice was soothing. Maybe I wouldn’t mind a voice like his in my head.

“This is Jules,” I said, nodding to the DJ booth. “That’s Rico and Miles, front door muscle.”

They dapped him up, curious but respectful. Cannon returned the gesture with a quick nod, already scanning the exits.

He was reading the room like a pro.

Good.

I took him past the dancers’ dressing room. Of course I knocked first to make sure they were okay with meeting him. I could tell by the looks in their eyes they all thought he was fine. But he didn’t seem the slightest bit impressed by them.

I liked that. I can’t have my security drooling over the dancers. I needed them to have self-control. Hell, he ogled me more than them. That was new. Men wanted me but strippers always garnered more attention because they were naked.

I showed him the main floor and everything else. He took it all in. I could see the cogs turning in his mind. He seemed like he was going to be taking this seriously.

After the tour we came back to my office. We reached my office, and I pushed the door open without breaking stride.

“That’s the Sylk Road. So if you don’t mind me asking…”

“I do,” he replied. I was shocked at his cocky response.

“You don’t even know what I was about to ask.”

“Whenever someone starts off with a preface like that, they’re about to ask something personal. I ain’t sharing shit personal with you. If it don’t pertain to the job, don’t ask.”

“It does pertain to the job.”

“I bet it don’t,” he quipped.

I rolled my eyes at him. Who the hell did he think he was talking to? He was fine but not enough to be disrespectful in my house.

“What were you in prison for?” I felt silly waiting until I hired him to ask this question but I was curious. I still had to do a background check and if it came back he was a pervert, I would fire him. I might even shoot him.

“Drug possession. I did five years,” he stared at me blankly.

“Are you done with that life?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“Because this is a clean club…”

“Yeah right…”

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“Look, I saw three transactions take place while we were on the floor. It was subtle and you wouldn’t have caught it but I did. So tell me something, who really owns this club?”

“What? I do!”

“Who are you allowing to sell drugs here?”

“How do you know I’m allowing it?”

“Shit, you could be the Queen Pin herself for all I know. Ion care about that. What I want to know is how do you want to handle it? I’m not touching the shit because I refuse to go back to prison. Do you want me to turn a blind eye or throw any d-boys out?”

“I’m not a Queen Pin but I do have an arrangement with someone. I’m allowing him to sell drugs in here. I don’t want you to do anything about it.”

He tilted his head back and sighed. “They need to do a better job at discretion. Tell whoever got you on payroll that he’s moving sloppily.”

“Will do.”

“I’m serious, Queen. I ain’t goin’ back to prison. If I get caught up in some shit, I’ll burn this muhfucka up with you inside.”

“Then you’ll really be going to prison,” I smirked.

“Only if I get caught.”

He was an asshole and I shouldn’t have been attracted to him but I was. I watched his sexy lips move, wondering what they would feel like sucking on my clit. STOP IT QUEEN. I needed to let these thoughts go before I ended up in trouble.

He was still nodding when the door flung open behind us.

“Queen!” Darius burst through the door. I didn’t want to deal with him. He was fired and he needed to stay out of my club.

“I need to talk to you,” he barked. “You can’t just fire me.”

“You’re interrupting,” I said. “Get out.”

“I ain’t going nowhere ’til you say at least pay me a month’s severance. After everything I did for this club—”

Cannon stepped between us, slow and silent.

“You should lower your voice,” he said.

Darius blinked. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Security.”

“Man, get out my face before I—”

Cannon’s fist met his jaw mid-sentence.

He didn’t finish.

Cannon’s fist cracked against his jaw like thunder.

Darius flew back, hit the bookshelf, then slid to the floor like his body had been unplugged. His mouth hung open, leaking blood. He looked up in a daze, blinking slow like his brain was buffering. But then something shifted in his eyes.

Recognition.

His pupils locked on Cannon, and for the first time since he burst into my office, Darius looked scared.

“Wait…” he breathed, struggling to sit up. “You—yo, I know you. You Cannon Price?”

Cannon didn’t respond. Just stared down at him, blank and still.

“Shit,” Darius muttered, holding up his hands like they’d protect him now. “My bad, man. I ain’t know who I was talkin’ to.”

Cannon cocked his head slightly. “Now you do.”

Darius nodded so hard I thought his neck might snap.

“Listen, I was just heated. That’s all. No disrespect. We cool.”

Cannon didn’t say a word. Just stepped back and opened the door like he was offering Darius a second chance at life.

Darius scrambled to his feet, wiping the blood from his mouth. “It’s all good, Queen. No hard feelings. I’m out. For real.”

He rushed out like his shoes were on fire.

The door clicked shut behind him.

I looked at Cannon, slower this time, really looked at him.

So that was who he was.

One of those whispered names from the game. The kind of man people didn’t talk about unless they were drunk or dying. I should’ve been nervous. Maybe even scared.

But all I felt was steady.

Like the club and my safety were finally in the right hands.

“You were made for this job,” I said quietly.

His eyes met mine, unreadable. “I know.”

Something thick and electric buzzed between us. I stepped back, needing air. Needing distance I suddenly didn’t trust myself to keep.

“Go make sure he leaves the property,” I said, turning toward my desk.

He didn’t move.

“What?” I asked, glancing back.

He raised an eyebrow. “You forgot a word.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“If you want me to do something, ask politely. I don’t take orders. I follow respect.”

My jaw clenched. The nerve. But also…

He was right.

And I kinda liked it.

I turned fully to face him, lifted my chin. “Will you please go make sure Darius leaves the property?”

He smirked, barely, but it was there.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Then he turned and walked out, slow and solid, like nothing in this world could shake him.

And I let out a breath.

Yeah.

Cannon Price wasn’t just good for the job.

He was perfect.

God help me.