Page 36 of Cannon (King Family Saga #3)

Queen

Sylk Road was so peaceful when we were closed, but that’s how I liked it when I had to handle the books.

Mondays through Wednesdays the doors stayed locked, the floors stayed clean, and it was just me, my laptop, and the numbers.

Numbers didn’t flirt. Numbers didn’t lie.

They told me exactly who was doing their job and who thought they could get slick.

Except today, the numbers weren’t adding up.

I stared at the screen again, my eyes dragging across the balance sheet. Thirty thousand dollars. Gone. Not a slow bleed, not a couple bottles unaccounted for but thirty grand missing like someone had walked in with a ski mask and emptied the safe.

“Hell no,” I muttered, scrolling back through receipts, bank statements, liquor orders. Nothing explained the gap.

Nori was the one who handled the accounting when I didn’t have time. She was sharp with numbers, detail-oriented, the kind of woman who could recite vendor invoices from memory. But thirty thousand didn’t just walk off the books. Somebody had to have helped it along.

I hit her number on speed dial, drumming my nails against the desk until she picked up.

“Hey, Queen,” Nori answered, casual like everything was normal.

“Don’t ‘hey Queen’ me,” I snapped. “Where the fuck is my thirty thousand?”

Silence. Then, her voice sharpened. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb. I’m looking at the books right now. Thirty stacks are missing. You’re the one with the logins. Explain it.”

“I didn’t take your damn money,” Nori shot back, her voice rising. “I’ve been keeping your books straight since day one. You really calling me a thief? You don’t even have the decency to ask me rather than accuse me. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“No one else has access, Nori. Where is my money?”

“You know what? Go to hell, Queen,” she snapped, her voice cracking with fury.

“After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you treat me?

Like I’m one of these girls trying to finesse you?

I’m not some hood rat trying to skim off the top.

I have a fucking CPA license and a reputation. I don’t need your money!”

“You better hope you don’t, because if my money don’t turn up, your reputation gonna be the least of your problems,” I threatened, my voice dropping low. “I built this club from the ground up. Nobody steals from me. Nobody.”

“You threatening me now? After all these years?” Her laugh was bitter, like spoiled honey.

“Check your new boyfriend’s pockets before you come at me.

What’s his name? Cannon? The young boy that just got out of prison?

” she jabbed. It was insane since she was the one who was pushing me to get with him.

My blood went cold. “Don’t you dare—”

“I quit.” The line went dead.

I slammed my phone down so hard the screen cracked, spiderwebbing across Nori’s contact photo. How could my best friend steal from me? And to blame it on Cannon? He didn’t have access to my books and he would never do something like that to me. Would he?

The cracked phone still sat on the desk, taunting me. Cannon walked in just as I was pacing behind it, my chest tight with leftover rage.

He looked from me to the broken screen, then back at me. “What the fuck happened in here?”

“Don’t worry about it, just go do your job,” I yelled.

I blew out a breath, rubbing my temples. “I just got off the phone with Nori. Thirty grand is missing from the books, and I…” My voice dipped. “I accused her of taking it.”

Cannon’s eyes narrowed, that cold edge sliding into place. “And?”

“She went off on me. Said she’d never steal from me, told me to go to hell, and then she quit.” My voice cracked, not from weakness but from how raw it all felt.

He shook his head slowly, the disappointment in his eyes cutting deeper than if he’d yelled. “You fucked up, Queen.”

I barked instantly. “Excuse you?”

“You heard me.” He stepped closer, towering over me until I had to tilt my head back to keep eye contact.

“You don’t throw accusations at people who been riding for you unless you got proof.

Hard proof. You do the work, you check the receipts, you make damn sure before you put that kind of dirt on someone’s name. ”

“I was angry,” I snapped, trying to defend myself.

His voice dropped, low and dangerous. “And you let your anger run the business. That’s sloppy. You’re better than sloppy.”

The words hit like a slap. I opened my mouth to fire back, but the truth of it burned too hot in my chest. He was right. I’d lost my cool, let suspicion get the best of me, and maybe cost myself my right hand in the process.

Cannon reached out, gripping my chin with his bandaged hand, forcing me to hold his gaze. “Don’t ever come at me yelling like that again, either. I don’t take orders, and I sure as fuck don’t take misplaced anger. You mad at her? Fine. But don’t bring that shit to me.”

My breath caught, anger mixing with a sharp pulse of something else. Something darker, needier. “You think you can just check me like that?” I whispered.

His mouth curved into that slow, dangerous smile that always unraveled me. “I don’t think. I just did.”

For a moment, the silence pressed heavy between us, my pride clawing at my throat.

But then I let it go, shoulders sagging.

“You’re right,” I admitted, the words tasting strange but necessary.

“I should’ve done my homework before going at her like that.

I let my temper win. And I’m grateful you said it straight, even if I don’t like how it feels. ”

“Good,” he said, releasing my chin but letting his fingers trail along my jaw in a way that was more claim than comfort. “Because I’m not here to stroke your ego. I’m here to make sure you stay sharp. You slip, you bleed. You bleed, you lose everything.”

I swallowed hard, nodding. “I hear you.”

“Good,” he repeated, softer this time, like an oath. His thumb brushed my bottom lip, lingering there. “Now stop spinning out. We’ll find that money. Together.”

His thumb on my lip felt like a brand, and my pulse quickened beneath his touch. The anger that had been boiling inside me suddenly transformed into something else—something hungry and desperate.

“Cannon,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he pushed me back against the desk, his mouth claiming mine with bruising force. I gasped against his lips, my hands flying to his shoulders to steady myself. But he wasn’t gentle, wasn’t asking permission. His kiss was punishment and pleasure all at once.

“You think you run everything,” he growled against my mouth. “That everyone jumps when you say so.”

His hands slid down my waist, gripping my hips so hard I knew I’d have marks tomorrow. I didn’t care. I wanted them.

“Maybe I do,” I challenged, even as he lifted me onto the desk, scattering papers to the floor.

He laughed, dark and low. “Not with me, Queen. Not tonight.”

His hands pushed my skirt up around my waist, ripping my lace panties away like they were nothing. I should have been mad about the designer lingerie, but all I could think about was the way his eyes burned into mine, possessive and dangerous.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, his voice rough as he unbuckled his belt.

“I want you,” I admitted, the words torn from somewhere deep inside me.

He entered me without warning, filling me completely in one powerful thrust. I cried out, my head falling back, mascara-stained tears pricking at the corners of my eyes from the intensity.

“Look at me,” he commanded, one hand wrapping around my throat, not squeezing but holding me there. “I want to see your face when you come apart.”

I couldn’t look away from those eyes if I tried.

He moved inside me with deliberate, punishing strokes, each one pushing me closer to the edge.

My perfectly applied makeup was running, black tears tracking down my cheeks, but I didn’t care.

For once in my life, I wasn’t in control, and it felt like freedom.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his thumb brushing away a smeared tear. “Let go for me, Queen.”

When I finally shattered, it was with his name on my lips, my nails digging crescents into his tattooed arms. He followed soon after, his body tensing against mine as he groaned into my neck.

The aftershocks of my orgasm were still rippling through me when I opened my eyes to survey the damage.

My desk looked like a tornado had hit it, papers scattered across the floor, pens rolling under furniture, my smashed phone lying in pieces near the door.

My thighs trembled as Cannon pulled away, tucking himself back into his pants with that infuriating calm that never seemed to leave him.

I slid off the desk on shaky legs, trying to gather myself, but my reflection in the small mirror on the wall stopped me cold. Black streaks of mascara ran down my cheeks like war paint. My lipstick was smeared halfway across my face. I looked like a goddamn wreck.

“Shit,” I muttered, reaching for tissues.

Before I could even begin to clean myself up, the door to my office swung open without a knock.

“Queen, we need to talk about…” Javi froze in the doorway, his eyes taking in everything at once, my tear-streaked face, the destroyed office, Cannon standing there.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Javi’s voice went deadly quiet, his hand already moving to the gun at his hip.

“This ain’t what it looks like,” I started, but Javi wasn’t listening.

“Get away from her,” he snarled at Cannon, stepping into the room. “NOW!”

Cannon didn’t budge, just tilted his head slow, that cold smirk tugging at his mouth. “Toy cop, you might want to learn how to knock before you get hurt.”

“I said get the fuck away from her!” Javi lunged, both hands gripping Cannon’s collar, slamming him back against the wall.

That was his mistake.

Cannon’s fist shot up like a piston, cracking Javi across the jaw so hard his head snapped sideways. Before he could recover, Cannon drove a knee into his ribs, the sound of bone giving under the pressure making my stomach twist.

Javi gasped, stumbled, but Cannon wasn’t done. He snatched him by the shirtfront and rag-dolled him across the room, sending him crashing into the edge of the coffee table. Wood splintered, glass rattled, and Javi groaned, clutching his side.

“Stop!” I cried, but Cannon’s eyes were pure ice. He walked forward, crouched low, and grabbed Javi by the back of the neck, slamming his face into the floor once.

Blood smeared across the hardwood as Javi coughed, swinging blindly, but Cannon caught his fist midair and twisted until Javi screamed. He drove an elbow into his face for good measure, splitting his lip wide open.

“ENOUGH!” I screamed, rushing forward to grab Javi’s arm as Cannon pulled back for another punch. “Cannon, stop! You’re going to kill him!”

My fingers dug into Javi’s bicep, trying to pull him away from Cannon’s rage. Cannon froze, his eyes locking on my hand on Javi’s arm, his expression going from murderous to something even darker.

“Let. Him. Go.” Each word dropped like ice from Cannon’s lips.

I hesitated, my fingers still wrapped around Javi’s bicep. “You need to calm down…”

“I said let him go, Queen.” Cannon’s voice was so low it was barely audible.

I released Javi’s arm, stepping back. Javi was breathing hard, blood dripping from his busted lip onto his uniform shirt. His eyes were wild, darting between me and Cannon.

“You’re done here,” Cannon said to Javi, his voice deadly calm now.

Javi stumbled to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “This isn’t over,” he spat, his words slurred through swollen lips. “You’re going back to prison where you belong.”

“Get the fuck out,” Cannon said, not even raising his voice.

Javi looked at me one last time, betrayal written all over his face, before he limped toward the door. He slammed it so hard the hinges rattled.

The moment we were alone, Cannon rounded on me, his eyes blazing. “Don’t you ever touch another man in front of me again.”

“Excuse me?” I blinked, disbelief washing over me. “You were about to kill my ex-husband in my office, and you’re mad because I touched his arm?”

“You’re mine.” His voice was like gravel. “Mine. Not his. Not anybody’s.”

“You’re insane,” I whispered, equal parts terrified and turned on by the intensity radiating off him.

His mouth curved into that dangerous smile. “I never pretended to be anything else.”

I swallowed hard, trying to hold onto my anger, but it was slipping through my fingers like sand. “You can’t just beat people half to death in my club.”

“He put his hands on me first,” Cannon countered, his finger tracing a line from my collarbone to my chin. “And he walked in on something that wasn’t meant for his eyes. What was I supposed to do? Let him disrespect both of us?”

“You could have handled it without breaking his ribs,” I argued, but my voice lacked conviction.

“Could have,” Cannon agreed, his thumb brushing my bottom lip. “Didn’t want to.”

His thumb lingered there, his eyes still dark with that lethal mix of rage and desire.

“You can’t just…” I started, but the words died in my throat. Cannon’s gaze pinned me, sharp enough to cut through every excuse.

“I told you, Queen,” he said. “I don’t share.”

The silence stretched, thick and dangerous. My pride screamed at me to push back, to remind him this was my club, my queendom. But my body betrayed me, leaning into the heat rolling off him, trembling from the storm he carried into my world.

“We got work to do,” he said as he leaned to kiss me.

With that I sank into my chair, thoughts spinning. There was so much to be done, especially when it came to tracking down that $30,000, but for now all I could do was bask in him.