by Meghan March
Spending hours reading about the things these brutal mobsters are capable of makes it even more clear that he is nothing like them. This is something I already knew, but the reading has reinforced it times a billion. Cannon may be the son of Dominic Casso, Marco Ferrari in the book, but there is no way he could do the things that Dom has done.
But what if Dom retires and Cannon decides to take over the family? What then? Would I stand by his side while he ordered the murders of people who had done terrible things?
I love him. That’s not in doubt. But would I still love him if he changed so drastically and became remolded in his father’s image?
My emotions are strung out, and that’s why I have to walk away from the book. Why I have to walk away from this empty little apartment where there’s nothing but me and my thoughts.
I need to see Cannon again. I need to reaffirm that he’s the man I know and love. The one who bought a building because an old man and his pizza shop were going to be evicted. The man who found out that I was investigating him and his entire family, and rather than rat me out to his father, he promised to find a way for me to get justice for mine while still being able to have him.
To say I’m a bit of a wreck right now is the understatement of the century. And when I add my concerns about Cannon taking it upon himself to end this feud that has turned into an all-out war, I just need to fucking see him.
I make my way down to the communal kitchen, where Tanya is accompanied by Grice. The pair pull container after container of food out of the oven and set them on the table where Eden, Bishop, Greer, Cav, and Benny are devouring salads and cold appetizers.
“Is Cannon coming back? Has anyone heard from him?” I ask as soon as I stop in the doorway, feeling defeated that he isn’t here to greet me.
I just want to see him. Touch him. Talk to him.
“He might be at the club,” Tanya says, glancing at me.
“Why would he go there if it’s closed?” When Tanya doesn’t have a response, I look around the room, hoping anyone else might have an answer for me.
Grice is the one who replies. “It’s empty. Perfect for having a meeting with someone you can’t be seen with in public.”
“Like who?”
“Like the cops.” This comes from Benny as he leans back in his chair and laces his fingers together behind his head. “Because Cannon ain’t his old man, and there’s no way in hell that boy is going to go after the Rossettis with guns blazing like Enzo would if he were stepping in for Dom.”
At first I think Benny’s being critical of Cannon and I want to jump to his defense, but then he adds, “He’s a hell of a lot smarter than Enzo, so he’s going to handle this carefully. Like he’s walking around with a live bomb, because that’s basically what the situation is—ready to fucking explode with one wrong move.”
The relief I feel from Benny’s statement drains away just as quickly as it appeared.
“The Rossettis don’t screw around,” Cav says, his tone grave. “They have no problem killing innocents to get what they want. I’ve seen it before.”
“I hate that this is happening,” Eden says, visibly shuddering in her seat. Bishop reaches out to wrap a tattooed arm around her, pulling Eden and her chair closer to his massive frame.
“We’re on the first flight out of here tomorrow. This will all be a bad dream when we get back to NOLA, cupcake.”
Hearing the giant of a man call the petite woman cupcake might be the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard, but Benny interrupts.
“You’re leaving before your pop’s even out of the hospital? Really? That’s harsh, Eden. Real harsh.”
Bishop glares at Benny. “Don’t try to get in her head, old man. Dom would want her safe, and you know it.” His stare touches all of us as he looks around the room. “Dom would want all of you to be safe. When Cannon surfaces, I’m telling him we’re leaving. The rest of you can do what you want. Getting Eden out of here is all I care about.”
He presses a kiss to her forehead, and a wave of warmth washes over me at his protectiveness. I love that she has that, and I know Cannon would do the same for me.
“I agree—you two should go. I’m not leaving until Crey is out of the hospital, though, so let’s eat and wait for Cannon. Then we’ll make decisions about how the next twenty-four hours will go,” Greer says, and we all help ourselves to the food.
Thankfully, Cannon arrives as we’re cleaning up.
I bolt away from the table I was just wiping down and run to him, practically throwing myself into his body. “You’re back. Thank God.”
His strong, capable arms wrap around me and lift me off my feet. “You’d think I’d been off to war with that kind of greeting.” He presses a kiss to my lips. “I love it.”
“Are you okay? What happened? What’s going on? Did you talk to the cops?”
As soon as the word cops is out of my mouth, Cannon stiffens.
“What about the cops? Have they been here?”
I shake my head. “No, but Benny thought you might be meeting them at the club.”
Cannon puts me on my feet and turns to face the old man, who’s still sitting at the table with a chunk of garlic bread on his plate.
“What the fuck, Benny? What do you know that I don’t?”
The older man tilts his head to one side and stares down Cannon. “Probably know you better than you know yourself. You ain’t no mobster. You don’t do wet work. You’re not walking up to Giancarlo’s door and putting a bullet in his head. I know you, kid. You’re working on a plan that keeps your hands clean and takes care of business at the same time.”
“Is he right?” I ask, hope coloring my tone.
Cannon’s gaze cuts from Benny to me and back again. “I’m looking at all our options.”
“How’s Dom?” Grice asks from the sink where he and Tanya are doing dishes. I offered, but the two seemed to work better as a team.
“Recovering. He has to keep his stress level low. No getting worked up over anything, which means that no matter what you fucking hear, you tell him nothing.” Cannon’s gaze travels from one person in the room to the next. “Does everyone in this room hear me? Because if I find out that someone leaked information to him before this is done, whatever happens to Dom is on your head.”
Everyone murmurs in somber agreement except Cav. He chuckles from the doorway where Greer leans against him.
“What?” Cannon snaps at his half brother.
“You sound like the old man. Probably more than you ever have before. So, big brother, you going to fill us in on what the fuck is going on? Because I’m down to help. Whatever you need.”
Greer whips her head around to look at her husband, a protest clearly dying to jump from her lips. But when she sees his face, she only says, “Are you sure about this? Because you’re not Dom’s errand boy anymore, and you have a hell of a lot to lose now.”
“I’ve still got Casso blood running through my veins, and I’m not going to let those fucking Rossettis gun down another person we care about. They fucking shot at you. My sister. My brothers. My family. I can’t let that go.”
Like Greer finally sees the toll it’s taken on the love of her life, she begins to comfort him. “Cav—”
“We’re not killing anyone,” Cannon says. “I did meet with the cops. Well, one cop. Clinton Cole.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Benny asks.
“We need every single thing Dom has on them. Pictures. Wiretaps. Evidence. Every goddamned thing. We’re putting together a case for the DA that’s airtight.”
“And you really think that shit is going to stick?” Benny says.
Cannon pulls me tighter against his side. “He’s also got a man on the inside, and together with whatever they’ve got, we’re taking down the whole fucking Rossetti family.”
35
Cannon
I can tell Benny’s skeptical about my plan, but I don’t fucking care. It’s not his decision. Before I leave the k
itchen, I extract a promise from him that he won’t go to Dom to tell him anything. Making him swear on the life of his granddaughter might be a little extreme, but my mob roots are showing.
If Dom got word of what I was planning, there’s no way in hell he’d let it happen. Cooperating with the cops, especially bringing one into the club, is probably enough to get him to shoot me in the damn head, but I don’t care. Like I told him, I’m handling this my way.
But before I ransack Dom’s office to find everything he has on the Rossettis and deliver it to Cole, I need some time with Memphis. Alone. I didn’t see her text until I was on my way here, and decided that it would be easier to tell her everything in person. Because she’s my person.
Memphis is the reason I’m doing all of this. She has no idea that if she hadn’t walked into my life, I might be taking a different path right now. You don’t grow up in the mob without knowing what you’re capable of, and if I had to step into Dom’s shoes to mete out justice for the insult that they served us—especially if they’d killed my friends and family and not just wounded them—I could do it.
Dom may not realize it, but my brain works a hell of a lot like his. I can pretty much imagine exactly what he wants to do right now, and I’m not going to let it happen. The potential for collateral damage is too high.
I’m not letting this feud take another life of someone I love.
I link my fingers with Memphis’s as I follow her up to the tiny apartment that she crashed in without me last night. There’s a whole hell of a lot I would have given to be wrapped around her, but duty called, and I couldn’t leave Holly alone while Creighton was unconscious. Even though he’d cut me out, my loyalty doesn’t end like that. Once a brother, always a brother.
Just like now that this woman is mine, she always will be. No matter what.
As soon as she shuts the door behind us, the off-white walls and tan-and-brown carpet fade away, along with the noises coming from the rest of the building. Everything disappears but Memphis.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here with you last night. And sorry I didn’t reply to your text.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her against me, feeling her heart beat against my chest.
“It’s okay. I understand. You did what you needed to do. I was fine. Safe.” She’s trembling, and I rub my hands up and down her back until she looks up at me. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing with the police? With Cole?”
I brush a lock of her wig away from her face. “I want to see you. The real you. No more hiding, Memphis. Everyone in this building can know exactly who you are, and not a goddamned thing is going to happen. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I swear it on my life.”
“Only if you promise me that you know what you’re doing and we’re going to ride off into the sunset, holding hands, after this is all over. Swear it to me, Cannon. I didn’t find you and fall in love with you just to lose you now. I won’t. I refuse to let that happen. I don’t care if I have to follow every step you take until this is over. Do you understand me?”
Her eyes turn glassy, and her voice is rough with unshed tears.
“Don’t cry, baby. We didn’t go through all this to only come this far. You and me have a hell of a lot of memories to make, and we’re going to fucking make them.” A single tear escapes and I catch it on my thumb. “No tears. You don’t need them. Got it?”
She nods and I lower my mouth to catch her lips, diving inside with my tongue, desperate to be closer to her. Memphis’s hands come up, and within a few seconds, the wig falls away. She pulls back.
“One second. Let me ditch the contacts. You’re right. I’m done hiding. I want to be with you as me. Only me.”
“Good.”
She disappears into the small bathroom and returns with those aqua-blue eyes shining.
“I love you, Cannon, and I swear to God, if something happens to you, you’d better haunt me for the rest of my life until I can join you on the other side. Don’t promise me heaven, then put me through hell. I want a lifetime with you.”
“You’ll get it. I’ll make it happen.” As soon as I make the vow, I know there’s nothing I won’t do to keep it.
36
Memphis
Our lips collide again. While Cannon is tasting me, skimming down my jaw and sending chill bumps rising, his hands are busy stripping me out of my blouse and bra.
I make quick work of the buttons of Cannon’s shirt and pants, until we both stumble toward the bedroom and land on the full-size bed.
“I need you, baby. Right now.”
His guttural tone makes me even more desperate for him.
“Let me—” I cut off my words and my lips take a path down his chest as my palms sweep over him. Despite the promises he made me, I have to memorize every bit of his body. Every line of taut muscle and every inch of skin. I’m burning the image into my brain because this isn’t just sex.
This is love.
I’ve never felt as beautiful as I do right this moment, with his hands cupping my curves and worshipping me.
When I finally reach his hard cock, I wrap both hands around it and suck the head into my mouth. His groan is the best sound I’ve ever heard. When the salty flavor of his precum hits my tongue, I revel in it. I take him deep, laving every inch of him, not caring that tears spill from my eyes when he hits the back of my throat.
I want him to remember this for the rest of our very, very long lives together. Maybe it’s the primitive part of my brain, but I want him to know exactly what’s at stake, and cement every single reason he has to be careful and stay safe.
There’s literally nothing I wouldn’t do in this moment to ensure this isn’t the last time we’re together.
Suddenly, Cannon pulls out of my mouth and rolls us both over so he’s on top. “I’m not coming in your mouth. I’m coming deep in that sweet, tight pussy that belongs to me.”
His possessive words wrap around me, and I’ve never wanted to belong to someone more.
No, not wanted to belong. I do belong to him.
And when he pushes my thighs apart and fits his cock against my entrance, I stare up into his hazel eyes and tell him the truth.
“I didn’t know it was possible to love someone this much.”
“Me either, baby. Not until I met you.”
With that, he sinks inside me, stretching me wide, and I arch my back to take him deeper. I want everything he has. Everything he is.
Cannon grips my upper arms and lifts them above my head, threading our fingers together as he pounds into me. Thrust after thrust, he hits my G-spot, and the orgasm builds inside me until I’m teetering on the edge.
“I’m going to come. I can’t—”
“Wait. Wait for me. Together. We go together.”
He releases one hand and uses his to lift my ass higher, and he powers inside. His thumb finds my clit and with one touch, I’m lost.
“Now,” he says.
The orgasm tears through me as Cannon roars my name.
“Memphis.”
37
Cannon
I could stay like this forever, still inside Memphis, my head resting near enough to hear her every heartbeat.
But I know I have to get up, and I’ve never resented a responsibility more. Then I remind myself that once this is all over, everyone I love will be safe. That alone gives me the energy to rise from the bed.
Memphis lifts her head to look at me. “Is it time?”
“Yeah, baby. It’s time. Hold on, though. I’ll bring you a towel.”
I clean myself off in the bathroom and bring her a washcloth dampened with warm water so she can clean up.
While she’s taking care of herself, I head out into the small living room to retrieve our clothes. I’ve got them in my hands when I see an open book with a picture of Giancarlo Rossetti taped to a page. It’s on the chair in the corner, resting on top of the laptop that must have come from Dom’s office.
“What the hell is this?” I as
k the empty room, picking up what I now realize is a leather journal.
The bed creaks, and Memphis pokes her head out into the living room. “What?”
She comes toward me to take the clothes I hold out to her, and I flash the cover at her.
“Well . . . when I started asking questions about the feud, Benny gave it to me. He said all the names were changed, and from what I’ve read so far, it’s like a mob history lesson and then an insider’s account of the feud between the Cassos and the Rossettis.”
“Benny fucking wrote this? Jesus Christ. Dom would kill him if he knew.” If he weren’t already dying, I add silently.
I drop the journal onto the chair and pull on my pants, but I freeze with my fingers on the button of my slacks when the book flops open to a black-and-white photo of a woman.
And not just any woman.
My heartbeat kicks up and blood roars in my ears as I stare down at Memphis. I jerk my head up to her face.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, stilling with both arms shoved through the sleeves of her shirt.
I look down at the picture and back at her. “Why the fuck is there a picture of you in this book?”
“What are you talking about?” Memphis yanks the shirt over her head and closes the gap between us to stare down at the open journal. She stumbles back a step, knocking her shoulder into mine.
I reach out to steady her as I read the caption beneath it.
* * *
Selena Mazzini, before she was found murdered in the Mazzini home.
* * *
“Why . . . why does that look like me?” Memphis whips her head sideways to stare at me, and all the color is gone from her face. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. “Who . . . who is that?”
My teeth grit together, and I reach down to pick up the book.
* * *