by Lane Hart
Still, having cold and absent parents didn’t stop me from following in their footsteps, getting my BA degree in political science before going to law school. Maybe I thought they would approve and finally acknowledge me as a peer once I graduated.
They didn’t.
What my law degree did do was make it clear that I was officially an adult and had no one to depend on but myself and the people I paid to help me. There were no friendships built while I studied. Those people were all my competition. They wanted me to fail so that they could succeed. My goal was to disappoint them and be better than they were in every class. That competitive edge is what got me hired right out of law school to be the assistant campaign manager for state senator Gloria Sanchez, who won her reelection several years ago. It’s also why I was one of the youngest assistant city managers in Charlotte for three years. Now, I’m almost thirty, and I think I’m ready to be in charge.
When the special election was announced a few weeks ago for mayor in my hometown, Gloria and Troy Wilkes, the mayor of Charlotte and my boss, suggested that I go for it because she knew I was sort of lost at sea, trying to figure out my next step in life.
I didn’t really want to practice law after several internships in all the various specialties. No, I wanted to make an actual difference to more people. To be in charge of creating and implementing policies that would make people’s lives better.
But before I can do anything worthwhile, I have to go against a very well-known and liked former chief of police.
Most people would tell you that my chance of winning is slim. I would tell them all to get out of my way and kiss my ass.
Cannon
As soon as I get home, I head for the shower to wash away the dirt and sweat from a hard day’s work. Once I’ve cleaned up, I pull out my laptop and start doing a little research on Madison Monroe.
There’s barely anything about her other than a graduation announcement from Providence School of Law in Charlotte, North Carolina from several years ago and a photo of her pictured with a state senator and a big group of people, her face so small I can’t tell much about it.
There are no social media pages or anything else personal about her, making it obvious that I won’t be able to find any dirt on her by looking online. Hopefully the man currently calling my cell phone can.
“Reece?” I answer when I recognize the number of the original Emerald Isle Savage Kings’ clubhouse. “Were you able to find any dirt on Madison Monroe?”
“No,” his deep, grumbly voice responds. I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t.
“No, you didn’t find anything?” I ask as I take a seat on the edge of my bed that is, unfortunately, empty again tonight.
Reece gets right down to business with no small talk. “I emailed you everything I found on her. She’s squeaky clean; her parents are both lawyers in good standing with the bar. She had a private school education before undergraduate and law school, graduating at the top of her class. Her family has a ton of money. She has a decent sized trust fund, but her campaign barely has two pennies to rub together. She’s barely started her run for mayor; she’s just been getting the basic permits and organizational shit accomplished. There are no dirty hands in her campaign at least, since it’s not even off the ground yet. She just got a permit for her official announcement tomorrow at noon in front of City Hall. There’s nothing on social media, not even one single goofy photo shared by one of her friends, or any sort of inappropriate comments.”
“So, that’s it?” I say when he stops talking.
“That’s it.”
I don’t bother asking if he’s sure since I know he would take that as an insult.
“What’s going on, Cannon?” Reece asks. “She causing problems for the MC or something?”
“No. Nothing like that. We’re supposed to cause her problems.”
“Why?”
“Long story,” I say with a sigh.
“That long story have anything to do with how your chapter’s lost millions in revenue in the blink of an eye the other night?”
“Yeah, that,” I respond. Should’ve figured he knew all of our dirt.
“What’s going on? Anything we need to know about?” he asks, referring to our mother chapter.
“There’s been some drama with Bailey, the former police chief, and my brother Conrad.”
“Oh yeah? I hadn’t heard that part.”
“That’s because it’s nothing on the record. Bailey doesn’t want anyone to know that he blackmailed my brother for a favor involving his daughter. Now she’s pregnant with Conrad’s kid.”
“What’s the rich bitch got to do with all of that?” he asks, and I assume he’s referring to Madison Monroe.
“Bailey’s decided to give up being chief to run for mayor.”
“Ah,” Reece says in understanding. “He asked you to try and find dirt on Monroe because he’s filthier than a pig rolling around in its own shit.”
“Basically,” I agree after that colorful description of Bailey. In fact, it’s one I plan to imagine whenever I see him. Conrad recently had Reece start looking into the former chief’s background, and he’s warned us there’s so much shit it’ll take days to get it all down to us.
“He’s not going to be happy about her being clean, is he?” Reece asks.
“No, he’s not. Which means Conrad could be going to prison for assault on a police officer if I can’t get her out of the race. According to Bailey, I’m to do it ‘by any means necessary’.”
“Shit,” Reece mutters. “I’ll keep looking into his records; but in the meantime, well, you know what they say – the enemy of my enemy can make a damn fine friend.”
“I want Bailey to lose,” I agree. “If he becomes mayor with all of his ties to the police department, he’ll make the Kings’ lives hell. He won’t stop until he runs us out of town!”
“Then you need to make sure he loses.”
“Yes, we do. But I also want to keep my brother out of prison.”
“Since it’s in our best interest to make sure our biggest South Carolina chapter doesn’t go under, I’ll talk to Torin and see what we can do to help.”
“What did you have in mind?” I ask.
“I’ll try and get Miss Monroe a big fat check to help her beat that sleazy son of a bitch.”
“That’s a good start, I guess. What about Conrad?”
“Did he assault Bailey?” Reece asks.
“Yeah, he did, but he deserved it.”
“I have no doubt about that. Doesn’t mean Conrad will get out of it free and clear. But I’m guessing that your brother wouldn’t want you to go after an innocent woman just to keep his freedom.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” I agree.
“Sounds like you’re stuck between a rock and hard place,” Reece says. “Let me know if you think of anything else we can do to help. I’ll be in touch.”
“Okay. Thanks, Reece,” I respond. He ends the call without saying goodbye.
I stare down at the phone for several more seconds before I finally get to my feet and open my bedroom door to go find my brother. I already know what my twin will say, but I still need to fill him in on what’s going on.
I find the happy couple sitting on the sofa, Hannah on Conrad’s lap while they make out. For the first time in maybe ever, my brother is getting laid more than I am. All the shit with the dealership means no time for fun stuff. Not to mention that my main watering holes have gone dry thanks to being shut down by the city.
“Yo, Con-man, call a timeout,” I say to interrupt the petting session on our sofa. “And at least put a towel down before you make a mess in shared living spaces,” I joke with them. “It’s the same courtesy I’ve always shown you.”
“You’re nasty, and we’ve still got all our clothes on, thank you very much,” Conrad says with a grin when his mouth is no longer attached to Hannah’s.
“Good, because we need to talk, and it’s easier to do that when no
one is naked,” I say when I sit down in one of the recliners and spin it in their direction.
“What’s up?” Conrad asks, moving Hannah to sit next to him instead of on him.
I look at her and then my brother. “Let’s go talk in my room.”
“Anything you need to say to me can be said in front of Hannah,” he replies.
“You sure about that? I don’t want to cause any unnecessary stress,” I look directly at her stomach to make my point.
“I’ll be fine,” Hannah says.
“If you’re sure,” I reply.
“Just tell us,” Conrad huffs, throwing his arm around Hannah’s shoulders to hold her close to him.
“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I grumble, talking directly to him. “Chief Bailey came by the dealership today.”
Both of them go as still as statues on the sofa, neither breathing for several seconds.
“What did he want?” my brother asks through clenched teeth.
“He needs another favor.”
“Shit.” Conrad sighs heavily. “I was wondering why no one’s been by here to drag me out in handcuffs. Let me guess, he’s blackmailing you to keep me out of jail?”
“Basically.”
“Whatever it is, don’t do it for him,” he says.
“How bad is it, Cannon?” Hannah asks.
“Oh, you know, just the usual, intimidation and threatening his competition for mayor,” I explain as I lean back in the recliner.
“He’s that scared of losing, huh?” Conrad replies, which is not surprising since it’s the same thing I thought too. “You’re not going to do it, are you? For all we know, he’ll have his minions trailing you, ready to arrest you for roughing him up.”
“Her,” I supply since he hasn’t heard that Bailey’s competition is female yet.
“Her? Shit. You definitely can’t do it then,” Conrad says.
“I know. And I’ve already talked to Reece. She doesn’t have anything in her past that Bailey can use, which means she’s probably going to have a few rough weeks until the election in March.”
“I bet he didn’t think anyone would be brave enough to go against him,” Hannah says quietly. “Good for her. I hope she beats his ass.”
“So, that settles it then. We’ll back her for mayor even if it means Conrad gets arrested and literally becomes Con-man, spending the next however many years in prison for assaulting a police officer?” I ask in a rush, since it’s not something I want to think about.
“Years?” Hannah says with her jaw gaping as her hands go protectively to her growing stomach. “But the baby…”
“That’s bullshit,” Conrad says, pulling her into his lap again and kissing her cheek. “I’ve already talked to a criminal attorney. He said worse case I plead guilty to the felony, but the most time I could get without a prior record is a year.”
“A year? You wouldn’t be there when the baby comes?” she asks, grasping the sides of his face, the sadness and tears obvious in her voice. “I-I can’t do this without you!”
“Cannon will be with you and so will the rest of the Kings,” Conrad assures her.
Fuck. I hadn’t considered the fact that if my brother is locked up, I’ll be left to pick up daddy duties for him until he gets out. I don’t mind kids; I just don’t want any of my own anytime soon. I’m not ready to be domesticated like Conrad and some of the other Kings. Just the thought of being trapped, staying home every weekend to change diapers makes my neck hot and itchy. I roll my shoulders, but that doesn’t make the sensation go away. I’d miss my brother, of course, but pretending to be a dad in his place would be a goddamn nightmare.
“Maybe we could…ask the woman to kindly drop out of the race?” I know it’s a lost cause and hate it when Conrad narrows his eyes at me in a look of disapproval.
“No.” His one-word response leaves no more room for argument.
And he’s right. Without someone beating Bailey, the Kings are still up shit creek without a paddle. If it means sucking it up and playing house with Hannah and his kid for a few months, then I’ll just have to do it.
“If my asshole father wins, he won’t stop until the Kings are destroyed,” Hannah says.
“She’s right,” Conrad agrees. “We can’t do anything to help that son of a bitch. Promise us, Cannon.”
Sighing because I know it’s a lost cause and it sucks, I tell him, “I promise.”
And I mean it too, since it’s what they both want.
“Now, what can we do to help this woman beat the shit out of Bailey?” Conrad asks.
“She needs money for the campaign, that much I know from Reece,” I share with them.
“Money is tight…” he trails off, his eyes finishing the rest of that thought with worries about the baby coming and of course our parents. After our mother’s multiple sclerosis got worse, dad had to quit his job to help take care of her. Since then, Conrad and I have been providing the financial support they need to get by and for medical insurance and bills.
“The rest of the Kings are in the same position we are,” I remark. “But maybe the club could host a fundraiser?”
“Yeah, that could work,” Conrad agrees. “The group has a lot of friends.”
“Tomorrow, Madison Monroe is officially announcing her run. I’ll try and talk to her to warn her and see what else we can do to help.”
Here’s hoping she’s as brave as Hannah thinks she is. If not, and she finds out that the former police chief is going to be coming at her, she may decide it’s not worth the trouble. Then we’ll all be fucked.
Chapter Three
Madison
With one minute before noon, I’m shocked to get a text from my mom telling me to break a leg. I’m not sure if that’s the appropriate sentiment or not, but at least she remembered that I’m making my official announcement today. There’s nothing from my dad, though, which is no surprise. I learned a long time ago that if I don’t depend on anyone but myself, then I won’t be let down.
“You ready?” Lily asks.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I say before I walk up to the lectern at the top of the red brick stairs leading into the City Hall building. I’m freezing my ass off in my white pantsuit with only two reporters and one camera interested enough to attend my press conference announcing my candidacy for mayor. Lily and Vanessa are also in attendance but not Harlen since he’s still in class. There’s a grand total of five people gathered around, which is not an auspicious start to my campaign.
Oh, but at the last second before I start, a tall, blond guy in leather and ripped, well-worn jeans walks up and casually leans his shoulder against a nearby palm tree. There’s a grin on his face, like he happened to wander through at just the right time to catch the show and thinks it’s all hilarious. Great. My staff, a couple of reporters, and a bum. It’s a pathetic turnout, but everyone has to start somewhere.
The microphone is on but unnecessary as I begin speaking. I could whisper and everyone would hear me.
I try not to let my disappointment show as I talk about all the great plans I have for the city if I’m elected mayor – growing the tourism business, revitalizing the downtown area, and bringing more arts and innovation to the entire area. I want the city to be more of a safe, family destination than just a party beach town where anything goes.
When I’m finished, there’s not even any applause. I simply walk down the steps, and the two bloggers and camera man simply walk away, looking unimpressed.
There’s no turning back now, I think to myself as I start walking over to Lily and Vanessa, who are heading to their cars at the curb to try and escape the cold.
“Great speech, Miss Monroe,” the blond man, who is still lurking by the palm tree, says as he pushes off it and approaches me. His voice is deep and smooth like velvet, especially when it sounds like it wraps itself around my name. Both of his hands are casually buried in his front jean pockets like he’s cold too, but he walks with the kind of swagger
that exudes confidence or more than likely, a ton of arrogance, as if nothing ever really gets to him – not even the winter weather.
“Thanks,” I reply, keeping my distance from him as I head in the opposite direction toward where my team is gathered. Now that I’m on level ground with the man, he seems bigger than he did when I was up on the steps. He’s well over six feet tall and wide enough in the chest and shoulders to confirm he’s no stranger to the gym.
“Too bad there was no one here to hear it,” he adds from behind my back. His comment makes me grit my teeth because now he’s just being a dick, stating the obvious.
I ignore him and keep walking, only slowing down when he says, “Really? That’s how you’re going to be? You’ll never win if you act like a stuck-up bitch whenever a well-intentioned voter tries to engage with you.”
I finally stop and spin around on my heels to march back up to him, all out of niceties since the entire morning has been a huge flop. Most likely, so will my campaign. “What do you want?” I ask when we’re only standing about three feet apart.
When both of his eyebrows that are slightly darker than his golden hair lift at the question and his grin grows even bigger, I realize he took the question much differently than I intended. He doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s eyeing me from head to toe like he’s wondering what I look like naked.
“I don’t have time for this,” I say before turning to walk away from him for the second time. I wasn’t expecting him to jog and catch up with me so fast that he’s suddenly a brick wall in front of me, standing so close that he blocks out everything else around us, even the chilly coastal wind. I can even feel his body heat and smell his rich, mouthwatering cologne that’s a little bit overkill, like he’s trying to overwhelm all the senses.
On most women, all he probably has to do is flash them a smile and they’ll follow him home. That kind of bullshit playboy charm has never worked on me, and it never will.
