Page 52 of Cannon (King Family Saga #3)

My mind raced, calculating the distance to my gun in the bookshelf, weighing the risk of making a move with that blade pressed against my daughter’s throat.

“Let her go,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Whatever this is about, it’s between you and me. She has nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, but she does,” he replied. “She’s your daughter. Your blood. Just like Alfred Dixon was my father.”

The name sent ice through my veins. I knew it. Somehow, I’d always known this day would come.

“I was just a baby when he was killed,” Marcus continued, tightening his grip on ZaZa’s hair, making her whimper. “My mother was a maid at the hotel. She saw everything. Saw a woman and her daughter with cancer check in. Said your mother seduced him. Saw you two run off that night.”

ZaZa’s eyes locked with mine, confusion and terror swirling in their depths.

“The police didn’t believe her,” he spat.

“Called her a crackhead, said she was making it up. She was high as a kite that night. But she told me the story over and over until the day she died. I’ve spent my life searching for you two.

For the woman and her daughter who ran from town to town, scamming people with fake cancer fundraisers. ”

My heart hammered against my ribs. How could he know all this?

“It took years of piecing it all together,” he continued, “but I finally found you. Queen Marie Davenport, owner of Sylk Road. And your mother, Adele.” His smile was cold. “I killed her first. Put a bullet in her head while she slept. Just like you did to my father.”

“You killed Grandma?” ZaZa cried out, tears streaming down her face.

“Shut up,” Marcus hissed, pressing the blade harder against her skin until a thin line of blood appeared.

“Please,” I begged, taking a step forward. “Please don’t hurt her. She’s innocent. I was the one who pulled the trigger. I was just a child. My mother told me he was hurting her. I didn’t know—”

“I don’t care what you knew!” he shouted, his composure cracking. “My father is dead. My mother died addicted and broken. And now it’s your turn to lose everything.”

My mind raced, desperately searching for a way out. If I could just get him talking, keep him distracted long enough to reach my gun…

“How did you find us?” I asked, taking a small step toward the bookshelf. “After all these years?”

“The police had a sketch. My mother saved the newspaper clippings.” Marcus’s eyes gleamed with a twisted pride. “I’ve been searching for years. When I saw your picture in that club owner profile last year, I knew it was you.”

I inched toward the bookshelf, trying to keep my movements casual. Just a few more steps.

“So you’ve been stalking me? Using my daughter to get close to me?” My hand trembled at my side, but I kept my voice steady.

“It was so easy,” he laughed. “ZaZa was desperate for attention. A few gifts, some compliments, and she was telling me everything about you.”

ZaZa’s eyes locked with mine, filled with terror and regret. I took another small step backward, closer to the bookshelf.

“Your mother tried to warn you, didn’t she? Said someone was watching her. But you didn’t believe her.” His smile widened. “Just like no one believed my mother.”

My back brushed against the bookshelf. Almost there.

“What happens after you kill us?” I asked, buying time as my fingers inched toward the hidden compartment. “You think that’ll bring your father back? Give you peace?”

“I don’t want peace,” he snarled. “I want justice.”

My fingers closed around the cold metal of my .380. In one fluid motion, I yanked it free, flipping off the safety.

“MOMMY!” ZaZa screamed as Marcus pressed the knife harder against her throat.

I aimed and fired, but my hand was shaking too badly. The bullet splintered the wall behind them. Before I could squeeze off another shot, Marcus shoved ZaZa aside and lunged at me with terrifying speed.

His body slammed into mine like a freight train. We crashed to the floor, the gun firing again as we fell. Pain exploded through my back as I hit the hardwood. Marcus’s weight crushed me, his hands scrambling for the weapon.

I fought like a woman possessed, clawing at his face, bucking my hips to throw him off balance. The gun slipped from my grasp, skittering across the floor.

Marcus’s fist connected with my jaw, stars exploding behind my eyes. I tasted blood but kept fighting, grabbing his throat, digging my nails in deep.

“Fucking bitch!” he wheezed, his knee driving into my stomach.

The air left my lungs in a rush, but adrenaline kept me moving. I saw the gun just inches away. Marcus saw it too. We both lunged for it at the same time.

His fingers closed around the grip first. Desperate, I drove my knee up between his legs with every ounce of strength I had left.

He howled, doubling over. I scrambled forward, wresting the gun from his weakened grip. My finger found the trigger as he recovered, lunging at me again.

I didn’t hesitate. The gun roared in my hand, the recoil jarring up my arm as I squeezed the trigger. Marcus’s head snapped back, a spray of crimson misting the air behind him. His body crumpled, eyes still open but seeing nothing, a perfect hole in his forehead where my bullet had entered.

“ZaZa!” I screamed, scrambling to my feet. My daughter had slumped against the wall, her body unnaturally still. That’s when I saw the dark stain spreading across her stomach, soaking through her designer top.

“Baby, no!” I rushed to her, dropping to my knees beside her. “ZaZa, can you hear me?”

Her eyelids fluttered but didn’t open. Her breathing was shallow, each inhale a painful wheeze. When I pressed my hand against the wound, warm blood seeped between my fingers.

“Stay with me,” I begged, fumbling for my phone with my free hand. “Don’t you dare leave me, baby girl. Not like this.”

My fingers left bloody prints on the screen as I dialed 911, my voice breaking as I gave the dispatcher our address.

“My daughter’s been shot,” I said, pressing harder on the wound. “She’s unconscious but breathing. Please hurry.”

Please God, don’t let my daughter die.