Page 31 of Cannon (King Family Saga #3)

He nodded, his eyes never leaving my face. “Yeah. Him and Creed are my half-brothers. Same mother, different fathers.”

“Holy shit,” I whispered, sitting back on my heels. “How is that possible?”

“My biological mother was married to Silas King when she had an affair with my father. When I was born, she didn’t want me—blue eyes were a dead giveaway I wasn’t Silas’s son.

Apparently he forced her to give me up. I was adopted by a doctor and his wife when I was a baby.

Silas had my birth father murdered for touching what was his—my mother. ”

My mind raced, trying to process this. Everyone in New York knew the King name.

Their corporation was worth billions, real estate, shipping, technology and even wine.

Old money mixed with new. But there had always been whispers about their other business interests, the kind that never made the financial pages.

“I remember when Riot’s winery was shot up last year,” I said slowly. “It was all over the news. They said it was a random act of violence, but…”

“Nothing’s random in their world,” Cannon finished for me. “The Kings run half the underworld in this city. Have for generations.”

I resumed cleaning his wounds, my hands gentle as I processed this revelation. “So you grew up with adoptive parents, not knowing any of this?”

“Not until I was older. I didn’t know who my birth mother was until months before I got out of prison. But my adoptive father was a good man,” Cannon said, his voice softening slightly. “Dr. Price. Trauma surgeon. Saved more lives than I can count.”

“What happened to him?” I asked, sensing there was more to the story.

Cannon was quiet for so long I thought he might not answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was different, younger somehow, vulnerable in a way I’d never heard before.

“When I was ten, I wanted a pair of Jordans. The new ones everyone was going crazy for. My pops said if I got straight A’s on my next report card, he’d get me a pair.

He wanted me to work hard for the things I wanted.

So I busted my ass and he got me a pair.

” He swallowed hard, his eyes distant. “Second day I wore them to school, some older kids jumped me. Beat me up pretty bad and took the shoes.”

I reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry.”

“My dad was furious. Not at me, at the school, for letting it happen. He went up there the next day, demanding to see the principal, the kids’ parents, anyone who would listen.

” Cannon’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The older brother of one of those kids was waiting in the parking lot. Shot my father three times in the chest over a pair of fucking sneakers.”

“Oh my God,” I breathed, my heart breaking for the little boy he’d been. “Cannon…”

“He died right there in the school parking lot. And after that, everything fell apart.” His eyes had gone cold, distant.

“My adoptive mother… she couldn’t handle it.

Started drinking, popping pills. She’d scream at me that it was my fault he was dead, although I think she was right.

If I hadn’t wanted those shoes, if I hadn’t gotten beaten up, he’d still be alive. ”

Anger flared in my chest at the thought of a child being blamed for his father’s murder. “That wasn’t your fault. You were a child.”

“Yeah, well, she didn’t see it that way. She checked out completely. Couldn’t even look at me most days. My sister Reese and I basically raised ourselves after that.”

“Is that when you met Smoke?” I asked gently.

He nodded. “I was in middle school, hustling on corners to keep food in the house. Smoke noticed me, said I had heart, that I was smart. Took me under his wing.” His laugh was bitter.

“Taught me the game, showed me how to move, how to lead. By sixteen, I was running crews for him, making more money than I’d ever seen. ”

I finished wrapping gauze around his knuckles, but didn’t let go of his hand.

The pieces were falling into place now, his confidence, his authority, the way he commanded respect without even trying.

He’d been a leader since he was a teenager, had learned to survive in a world most people couldn’t imagine.

“Smoke became like a father to me,” he continued. “Or at least that’s what I thought at the time. Now I know better. He was just using me, same as he uses everyone.”

I moved to sit beside him on the edge of the tub, our shoulders touching. “So what happened with Riot today? How did you end up fighting your own brother?”

“I was trying to warn him that Smoke put a hit out on him. Half a million to whoever takes him out.” Cannon’s mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “Offered me the job first, not knowing we’re related.”

“Jesus,” I whispered. “And Riot didn’t believe you?”

“We were ambushed at the diner. Smoke’s son Nero and his crew shot the place up. After, Riot accused me of setting them up.” He touched his bruised cheek. “We exchanged words, then fists.”

“So now what?” I asked, suddenly afraid of the answer.

“Now I handle Smoke,” he said simply, as if discussing the weather instead of murder. “Before he figures out what you mean to me and tries to use you as leverage.”

My heart stuttered at his words. What you mean to me. The casual way he claimed me made my heart stop.

“I won’t let you face him alone,” I said firmly. “This is my fight too. He threatened my club, my livelihood.”

Cannon turned to face me fully, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “This isn’t a discussion, Queen. Smoke is my problem to solve. I’ve been handling men like him my whole life. If you try anything stupid, you will answer to me.”

I wanted to argue, to remind him that I wasn’t some damsel who needed protecting. But the tenderness in his touch silenced me. For the first time in years, someone was fighting my battles for me instead of the other way around.

“I’m scared for you,” I admitted, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. I wasn’t used to admitting fear, to showing vulnerability.

“Don’t be,” he said, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. “I’ve survived worse than Smoke.”

I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes. “Stay here tonight,” I whispered. “Please. ZaZa’s going out later. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

His eyes darkened, desire replacing the coldness that had been there moments before. “You sure about that?”

“Very sure,” I replied, my body already humming with anticipation. “I want you in my bed tonight, not out there risking your life.”

He leaned forward, his lips brushing mine in a kiss so gentle it made my chest ache. “One night,” he agreed. “But tomorrow, I finish this. For both of us.”

I nodded, knowing there was no changing his mind. Cannon Price was a force of nature, unstoppable once set in motion. All I could do was hold on tight and pray we both survived the storm that was coming.