Page 91 of Cannon

“Now we wait,” I said, tucking my phone away.

Riot paced the perimeter, his nervous energy filling the cavernous space. “He won’t come alone. You know that, right?”

“Of course he won’t,” I replied, pulling up a rusty folding chair across from Nero. “But we’ll be ready.”

Creed positioned himself by a broken window, peering out at the empty lot surrounding the warehouse. “I’ve got men stationed at all entry points. Nobody gets close without us knowing.”

I kept my eyes locked on Nero as we waited, watching sweat bead on his forehead, the fear making him twitch in his restraints. My phone buzzed with Smoke’s reply:Coming. Don’t hurt my boy.

“He’s on his way,” I announced, tucking my phone away.

Creed’s walkie crackled to life. “Three vehicles approaching from the east entrance. Black SUV in the middle, escort vehicles front and back.”

“Right on schedule,” I said, checking my piece one last time. “And predictable as fuck.”

Riot positioned himself behind a stack of rusted metal containers, his rifle ready. “I’ve got the escort vehicles.”

I nodded at Creed. “Let’s give Smoke the welcome he deserves.”

We waited in tense silence, listening as car doors slammed outside, followed by the sound of multiple footsteps approaching. Nero started struggling harder, desperation in his eyes.

“Pops!” he screamed. “It’s a trap!”

I backhanded him across the face, splitting his lip wider. “Shut the fuck up.”

Gunfire erupted outside, short, controlled bursts followed by silence. Creed’s men taking out Smoke’s security detail, which wast the last of his crew. Then the warehouse door creaked open, and Smoke stepped inside, hands raised, looking smaller somehow than I remembered.

“I’m here,” he called out, voice echoing. “Let my son go.”

I emerged from the shadows, gun trained on his chest. “Now, nigga, you know that can’t happen after you shot at me.

“Cannon,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “We can work this out. Whatever you want. Just don’t hurt my son.”

Smoke’s knees hit the concrete floor like he’d been cut down, his hands trembling in the air. “Please,” he whimpered, his voice breaking. “I’ll give you anything. Money, territory, connections, anything!”

This nigga didn’t have shit to give. Even facing death, he was lying.

I circled him slowly, savoring the moment. This man who’d once seemed larger than life, who’d strutted around in furs and gold chains, commanding respect with just a look, now reduced to a sniveling mess on a dirty warehouse floor.

Laughter bubbled up from my chest, wild and uncontrolled. “Look at you,” I said between laughs. “Beggin’ like a bitch.”

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, tears streaming down his face. “For everything. You were like a son to me. I made mistakes.”

“Mistakes?” I spat, my laughter dying. “You threatened Queen. Had your boys shoot at me. Those weren’t mistakes. That was you forgetting who the fuck I am.”

“We’ll disappear,” Smoke promised, glancing at Nero. “You’ll never hear from us again. I swear on everything.”

Riot stepped forward, disgust written all over his face. “This pathetic motherfucker really thinks he’s walking out of here.”

Without warning, Riot fired a single shot into Nero’s knee. The sound of the bullet was nothing compared to Nero’s scream, high and agonized as blood spurted from the wound.

“NO!” Smoke lunged toward Riot, his face contorted with rage.

I squeezed the trigger twice, catching Smoke center mass. He staggered backward, eyes wide with shock, hands clutching at the spreading crimson stain on his chest.

“You…” he gasped, sinking to his knees.

I crouched beside him, watching the light already starting to fade from his eyes. “Before you die, I need to know something. Who in your crew set me up to go to prison? I was driving my personal car that day. I never kept product in there. Someone planted that coke and called in the tip.”