by Lane Hart
I hate not being able to kiss her or hold her. I knew I would, but it’s worse than I imagined. The urge is growing stronger the more time passes, not getting better. What the fuck is up with that?
At least things have been peaceful since the incident at Madison’s townhouse. No one else has shown up trying to hurt her or intimidate her. Still, I never let her out of my sight unless she’s in the bathroom or sleeping.
On Thursday afternoon at the office, Madison is dressed in her red pantsuit with her makeup done to perfection, her black hair falling in perfect waves around her shoulders, ready to head to the studio – without me.
“I’m not letting you go alone,” I tell her.
“Jake and Lucas can tag along,” she replies while checking her hair in the mirror of her little makeup compact.
“Why the fuck do they get to come but I don’t?” I ask indignantly.
She snaps the compact closed and tosses it in her purse before finally turning to face me, looking so beautiful it physically hurts. “Because they’ll keep their mouths shut and not go around the studio saying fuck.”
Hearing the f-word from her bright red, sexy lips is hot enough to almost make my dick hard.
“I’ll keep my mouth shut,” I promise her.
“Bailey will try and provoke you, Cannon. And you won’t let it go because your brother has been sitting in a jail cell for four days now…”
“I can behave,” I assure her.
“Why do you even want to come with us?” she asks, letting some of her stubborn anger lash out at me.
“I want to be there for you,” I tell her. “This is important. I get that. But you know as well as I do that Bailey is scared of me and the Kings. He’ll be freaking out the whole time I’m there on the sidelines, which will make it easier for you to tear him apart.”
She closes her dark chocolate eyes and inhales deeply before opening them again. “Fine. You can come, but you have to behave yourself, Cannon.”
“Okay. I will,” I agree. “Thank you.”
“Whatever. Let’s go.”
“You look beautiful,” I tell her. Instead of the compliment warming her eyes, I swear it just makes her look pissed before she walks away from me.
Madison
When Cannon insisted on coming to the debate, I let him tag along but didn’t tell him the real reason why I agreed. Just having him close comforts me and makes me feel safe. As nervous as I am about being on camera and going at it with Bailey, I need him there. I wish I didn’t, but I do. And if I can keep Cannon away from Bailey so he can’t rile him up, everything should be fine. I hope he does make the former cop nervous.
I’ve practiced and prepared so much the last few days, I know I’m ready.
The only thing distracting me as I watch the crew set up the lecterns on the stage is what Cannon said before we left the office.
He told me I was beautiful.
And my first reaction was that I wanted to smack him for his comment.
How dare he say things like that when we’re supposed to be ‘keeping our distance’ from each other?
“You okay?” Lily whispers.
“Yes.”
“I could hear your teeth grinding together,” she explains. “You really can’t wait to destroy Bailey on camera, can you?”
I push away thoughts of Cannon to focus on the task ahead of me.
“Yes, it’ll be fun. He deserves to be called out, because I’m certain he doesn’t know anything about running a city. All he wants is the power.”
“Give him hell,” she says with a smile.
Half an hour later and I’m answering the questions from the moderator calmly and coolly. Bailey has kept his answers very, very short, which leaves me with less room to call him out. But still, I’ve held my own when asked about the city’s financial future, tax increases, bringing more jobs, and increasing tourism. And while I may be sweating profusely under my arms thanks to my nerves and all the heat from the lights on stage, at least no one else can see it thanks to my suit. Bailey, on the other hand, has sweat dripping down so fast from his balding head that he’s had to whip out a handkerchief from his suit pocket every time he thinks the camera goes back to me. Poor bastard has no idea that they’re using split screens so that the viewers at home can watch our reactions to each other’s remarks.
“All right. We’re about out of time tonight,” John Dodson, the local political science professor serving as the moderator tonight, says.
My eyes search for and find Cannon behind the cameras as I sigh in relief that I made it through this. Even in the dark, I can see the flash of his white teeth when he smiles at me, and I know it means he’s happy for me and proud of me.
John goes on to say, “I want to thank you both for being here tonight to answer my many questions, and now we’ll close the debate by allowing you each to have two minutes for closing remarks. Ms. Monroe, you’re up first.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dodson,” I reply with a confident smile. “I believe that after tonight, everyone in this great city can see that I am more than capable of serving as mayor, while my opponent, Mr. Bailey, would be more suited for serving a prison sentence.”
Bailey gasps loudly into his mic that is still on.
“Don’t pretend to be innocent now,” I tell him. “In fact, the list of your offenses is a long one. Everyone knows that you were responsible for sending two men to hurt me and threaten me in my home. You attacked the business interests of people who dared to oppose you, and you had your own daughter kidnapped because you were worried about how her behavior may impact your public image!”
I glance away from the camera to see Bailey’s stunned face. The clock in front of John shows I still have more than a minute remaining when he interrupts, losing his temper just as I hoped he would on camera.
“How dare you…you uppity bitch! You’re the one who’s been screwing a dozen low-life bikers for cash to finance your campaign. You’re nothing but a goddamn whore!”
Everyone in the entire studio gasps because we’re broadcasting live and everyone at home just heard Bailey swearing. I would’ve let the bitch remark go, but it’s the whore one that makes me want to ram my fist into his face.
Apparently, I’m not the only one who wants to make him hurt. There’s a blur of black and denim and then Cannon is socking Bailey right in his jaw, so hard that the fat man drops like a ton of bricks. It only takes a glance at his still form on the floor to know he’s out cold.
“Oh my god,” I gasp as Cannon stands over him, chest heaving, fists clenched like he wants to keep pounding on him. “Don’t!” I beg him.
The entire news crew stands silent and frozen before the “LIVE” light goes off and then four guys in all black security guard uniforms come for Cannon.
“Get that maniac out of here!” a man says before he kneels down next to Bailey. It’s probably his campaign manager or friend, because no one else bothers checking on him.
“Jesus Christ,” one of the crew says, then a woman is coming over to help me remove my mic.
“I’ve never seen anything like that before,” she says as she unclips the part from my collar. “And I’ve worked here for twenty years!”
“That was crazy,” I agree as I watch security slap a pair of handcuffs on Cannon. Dammit. What was he thinking?
“Crazy? It was absolutely wonderful!” she gushes. “What woman doesn’t want a man to come to her defense like that?”
“It wasn’t smart. Now he’s going to be arrested and thrown in jail,” I remark, keeping the “with his twin brother” comment to myself.
Security leans Cannon against a news desk to pat him down, and he turns his face toward me to mouth, “I’m sorry.”
I just shake my head because I can’t believe he actually did that.
I want to be pissed at him and tell him that I can take care of myself. But it would be a lie. The only reason I’m upset is because he’s going to jail, and there’s nothing I can do to stop that.
&n
bsp; Chapter Thirty-Two
Cannon
“Well, lookie here who’s back again so soon,” one of the big, burly police officers says when I’m taken into the station for processing.
“What?” I ask him, assuming he means I’m back to visit Conrad.
“Didn’t you just get bailed out?”
“No.”
“Then you must have a twin, boy,” he says with a cackle.
“Yeah, I do. Conrad Erikson. He’s been in since Sunday,” I explain.
“No shit?” he asks, and I shake my head, not finding the situation nearly as funny as he does.
I fucked up. Big time.
I don’t regret hitting Bailey for the shit he said to Madison. No, that felt damn good. I just wish it didn’t mean I had to leave her like this. I have no doubt that the son of a bitch is going to keep me here until at least Monday when Conrad has his hearing. And dammit, my brother was counting on me to take care of Hannah and our parents. I let him down.
“Do you think you can put me and my twin in the same cell?” I ask even though I doubt the officer will grant my request.
He glances behind me at someone else, maybe a superior, and then says, “Oh, yeah. I think that’s already been arranged.”
Shit. I don’t like the sound of that. But whatever happens, at least I’ll be locked up with Conrad.
About two hours later, when they’ve finally taken my mugshot and fingerprints, strip searched me, and made me change into the khaki-colored cotton stretch pants and baggy shirt, I’m finally taken to the cellblock. There are not many of them, but they’re each big enough to hold a dozen or so men.
I almost wish I had a camera to capture my brother’s surprised face when I’m shoved inside with him.
“Cannon?” he exclaims, jumping down from his top bunk in his matching khaki-colored outfit. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks, but then he’s hugging me so tight I can’t breathe. I got to see him yesterday morning during visitation but only for about ten minutes, and there was no contact allowed. Here, well, I guess it doesn’t matter in the cell.
I hug him back and when he pulls away, I tell him, “I’m sorry. I did something incredibly stupid.”
“What?” he asks.
“I punched Bailey and knocked him out during the live debate with Madison.”
“Jesus,” he mutters, running his fingers through his hair. “What were you thinking?”
“Well, he was bad-mouthing Madison, called her a bitch and a whore and disrespected the Kings at the same time. I just lost it…”
“Fuck,” Conrad says with a sigh. He shows me the way to an open spot of bench where we sit down side by side. “I hate that you’re here with me, but it’s really good to see you.”
“I’m guessing I’ll be here for a while too,” I agree as I glance around at what will be my home for the next few days. There are several rough-looking guys hanging around, watching and listening to our every word, but most of them seem amused now that there are two of us.
“How is Hannah? Mom and Dad?” Conrad asks in a rush.
“The same as they were yesterday morning,” I assure him. “Everyone is okay, just sad that you’re in here. And now I am too, so I can’t protect Madison or be there if they need me…”
“Roman will make sure Madison is safe,” Conrad says. “You know he will. He’ll help out with Hannah and Mom and Dad too if they need anything.”
“I know, but it’s not the same. I fucking hate being away from her.”
“Hannah told me about how she found you and Madison Sunday night when the cops came,” he admits with a grin. “She was upset during visitation and didn’t know what else to talk about. You’re fucking Madison, aren’t you?” he asks.
“Something like that,” I agree rather than use the other term that would make him laugh his ass off at me. “At least we were, until I told her we shouldn’t anymore.”
He turns to look at me straight on. “You turned her down?”
“I didn’t want to, but I was starting to…I care about her,” I finally admit. “And the two of us can’t work out. She’s got her public image to think about, and I don’t want to do anything to make her lose this election or any other ones in the future.”
“You’re in love with her,” Conrad says simply.
“Yeah, yeah, I think I am,” I agree with a groan as I slump my back and head against the brick wall.
“Sorry, man.”
“Me too,” I reply right before a group of officers line up outside the bars.
“Everyone except the twins get to bed,” one of them says as he unlocks the door. By the time he opens the cell door, the other inmates have all scattered to the bunks in the back, leaving me and Conrad in the open front area.
“Oh fuck,” Conrad says, and we both get to our feet like we know what’s about to go down.
There are six officers with batons and just the two of us, unarmed.
Fuck, I don’t like those odds as I ball my hands into fists. But I’ll be dammed if I don’t do some damage of my own before I go down.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Madison
I sit around the police station with Jake and Lucas, drinking their nasty coffee until almost midnight when someone finally tells us the exact same thing I heard on Sunday – Cannon won’t see a magistrate until Monday. When I asked why he couldn’t see one tomorrow since it’s Friday and the courts are opened, I was told that all of the magistrates are out of town.
Bullshit.
But since there’s nothing else we can do, we go home.
Or at least to Cannon’s home.
It’s sort of ironic how Cannon just told me a few days ago that he wanted to put some space between us. I don’t think getting locked up was what he had in mind, but it is one way to make sure we don’t fool around again. I still don’t understand his motives. I can admit that he was right – I needed to concentrate on the campaign. Now, I also have to figure out how to get him and Conrad out of jail.
Hannah is waiting up in the living room in the dark, still binge-watching romantic comedies to try and cheer herself up. It’s where she’s been the past four days since Conrad was arrested, other than the few minutes she got to see him on Wednesday, and I haven’t seen her smile or laugh even once. At first, I wanted to try and get her out of the house. But now, with Cannon locked up, I know how she’s feeling; and I’m losing the motivation to do anything but crash on the sofa beside her once I get a quick shower to wash off the sweat and the police station, then put on my pajamas.
“Where’s Cannon?” Hannah looks over and asks as she huddles under a blanket, her blonde hair pulled up in a high, messy ponytail.
“I guess you could say that he’s visiting Conrad. Except, he doesn’t have to worry about visiting hours ending…”
“What do you mean?”
I lean my elbow on the back of the sofa to hold my head up. “He’s in jail.”
“Cannon’s at the jail?”
“No, he’s in jail, as in he was arrested.”
Hannah gasps and her mouth falls open.
“You didn’t watch the debate, did you?”
Hannah winces and says, “No. Sorry. I forgot.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “But if you had watched, you would’ve seen your father call me a whore and a bitch before Cannon knocked him out.”
“Oh. My. God.” She reaches for her phone, and then her fingers are moving as fast as lightning. “Found it!” I assume she means the video on YouTube or somewhere online, because I suddenly hear Bailey’s voice repeating the same insults and then silence. “That was amazing!” she says when she looks up at me. Then she puts her bottom lip out. “But I hate that Cannon got arrested.”
“Me too.”
“That son of a bitch deserves to be in jail, not the twins!”
“I agree,” I say with a sigh.
“No, Madison, you have no idea the things he’s done…” she trails off then adds. “I
know he nearly had you killed, but what he did to me when I was sixteen…”
From the glow of the television, I watch her eyes water and know it’s something horrible. “You don’t have to tell me,” I tell her softly.
She shakes her head and says, “I want to tell you. It’s the reason why Conrad kicked his ass and why he’s in jail now.”
Hannah dabs at her eyes with her blanket and then steels her spine when she looks at me again. “When I was sixteen, I got pregnant. It was unexpected, of course. I wasn’t planning to be a teen mom, but it happened; and my boyfriend at the time was supportive of my decision to keep it. My parents were too, or at least I thought they were. But my dad…well, he took me to see a doctor, and that doctor prescribed some pills that my dad told me were for morning sickness, so I wouldn’t miss any more school. The puking was so bad,” she says with a shake of her head. “But that’s not what the pills were really for. They were abortion pills. By the time I started bleeding, it was too late. I had lost the baby.”
“Oh, god, Hannah. I’m so sorry,” I say when I reach over and give her hand a squeeze. “I can’t believe your father did that to you!” I always thought my parents were awful for neglecting me, but at least they never murdered my unborn child.
“I was devastated and angry,” Hannah explains. “They sent me away for school and then college. I didn’t see my family for four years. And now that I’m back, well, he won’t let me see my little sister.”
“God, I hate that asshole more and more,” I mutter. “He thinks he can get away with anything; and, as shitty as that is, I’m starting to believe he may be right.”
“Everyone in this city does whatever he wants. I don’t know why, but they do,” Hannah says as she wipes away more tears. “God, I’m craving a drink.”
“No, Hannah…” I start, but she holds up a hand.
“I won’t drink. Not while I’m pregnant,” she promises. “I just really, really want to, and I hate it.”