by Lane Hart
“Well, that’s the thing,” Veronica says. “I asked what he wanted, and he said nothing, that he was just stretching his legs.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I remark with a frown.
“Sorry,” Veronica says with a cringe. “Do you want me to try and get him to leave?”
I notice that she used the word ‘try’ as if she wasn’t certain that she could, in fact, get him out the door.
“I’ll go talk to him,” I tell her. “You…can you stay here and maybe help Lily get started on applying the address labels?”
“Sure,” she agrees happily, even though her shoulders droop as she eyes the boxes filled with stacks of postcards that I want to get out as soon as possible.
“Thanks. I know it’s a pain in the ass,” I tell her as I straighten my suit jacket and my spine before I finally step out of the office to confront the biker.
His back is to me, looking out the blinds that hang over the double front windows. The white, snarling, skull king patch on the back of his leather jacket acts as a warning that the man is more dangerous than he appears, and I would be smart to remember that instead of getting seduced by his handsome face and muscular body.
“What are you doing here, Cannon?” I ask, and he finally turns around. The sunlight shining through the window makes his golden hair glow like a halo, which is absurd.
“Just checking on things,” he says with a twist of his waist and arch of his back like he’s stretching after sitting in the same position for too long.
“What does that mean?” I ask. “I told you to stay away from me.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“So, you should leave.”
Ignoring me, he slips his hands into his jean pockets. These are a little more faded but with slightly smaller tears than the ones he had on yesterday. He’s still wearing a thick, black hoodie under the leather vest, and his blue eyes look…tired, like he got less sleep than I did last night. Not that I care. “How’s the campaign going?” he asks.
“Fine.”
“I’ve been telling people about you,” he says. “Got a group out of town willing to make a sizable donation, and Roman, my club president, would like to meet you and host a fundraiser for you.”
“What? Why would he do that?” I ask in confusion. My parents haven’t offered, and I haven’t gotten the courage or the desperation needed to ask them, even though I should since they have a ton of contacts in the city.
“Because we need you to beat Bailey.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I tell him, “Just so we’re clear, I’m not getting into bed with mobsters or outlaws, whatever it is you all are. I would rather lose by a landslide.”
“You would rather lose the election than get in bed with me?” Cannon asks with an enormous, boyish grin.
“You know what I meant,” I say, smoothing my hands over my pale blue pantsuit even though I know there are no wrinkles and refusing to give in to his teasing.
“How badly do you want to win, Madison? And why do you want to be mayor in the first place? You don’t strike me as the type of woman who enjoys the schmoozing and all that goes along with politics.”
“Schmoozing?” I repeat.
“You know, kissing people’s asses to get their money in exchange for favors.”
“I think you have what I’m doing confused with being a whore.”
“It’s sort of the same thing, though, right? You have to get their support, and to do that there has to be some sort of benefit they get from you.”
“Again, Cannon, what do you want? Why are you here?”
“All I want is your word that you won’t come after the Savage Kings if you’re elected. We recently lost all of our businesses because of bullshit fire code violations. Chief Bailey called in some favors and had our business permits revoked because one of the club members is dating his daughter. Is that the kind of politician you’re going to be? Using your position for personal vendettas?”
“No. I’m not quite that vindictive.”
“But you are a little vindictive?”
Sighing, I march over to the door and pull it open, hoping he’ll get the hint. “You’re wasting my time, and I have a million things I need to be doing.”
“Then put me to work,” he says, coming to stand so close that the toes of our shoes are nearly touching. Even with the cool, fresh air coming in from outside, I can smell his clean scent mixed with his rich cologne. It suddenly feels like it’s about a hundred degrees outside instead of fifty.
“You want to work for me?” I look up at his face in surprise.
“Yeah, and I’ve got two other guys who are ready and willing to help too,” he says. He lifts his arm over his head, waving at someone in the parking lot.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” I tell him.
“Are you saying you don’t need our help?” His deep blue eyes stare down at me, and it’s like being pulled under by a riptide. I could try and fight him, that’s my first instinct, but that would only make me drown faster. So, I do something that I don’t normally do. I give in.
“Fine. But you can’t stand around arguing with me all day or I won’t get anything done.”
“Then tell me what you need, and I’ll do it with only one condition.”
Great. There are conditions. Should have known it wasn’t just him being nice out of the kindness of his heart.
“What’s your condition?” I grind my back teeth together, expecting him to say something perverse like I have to sleep with him.
Instead, Cannon says, “You never leave my sight.”
I stare up at his face, trying to figure out if he’s serious or if this is some twisted way for him to try and get close to me, spend time with me and get me into his bed. “You must be joking.” No one is that desperate for sex, especially not the man who practically oozes it out of his every pore.
“Bailey is going to try and come after you. Trust me on that,” he says. “That’s how determined he is to win.”
“And that’s the only reason you want to hang around?”
“Yes.”
Am I disappointed by his quick response that sounds so convincing? God, no. But I am starting to think that maybe he’s actually telling the truth about how low the former police chief would go to beat me. It’s a scary thought but one I’m sure he’s exaggerating.
“You can’t lurk around all day and night.”
“Try me.”
“You have to sleep sometime,” I point out.
“Which is where these two knuckleheads come in handy,” Cannon says, nodding his head toward the parking lot. I glance over and see two young guys approaching, both a few years younger than Cannon, but wearing the same black leather vest.
“Who are they?”
“Prospects.”
“Prospects?” I repeat.
“They do what I or any of the Kings say to do without question; and in a few months, they might become one of us. They’re like the perfect errand boys. Give them a job, and they’ll do it.”
“Just like that?” I ask.
“Just like that.”
“Are they old enough to vote?” I find myself asking with a smile as they approach.
“Yes,” Cannon answers with a similar smile on his face before he turns to face them. “Prospects, meet Madison Monroe. Madison, the prospects, Jake and Lucas. No need to figure out which is which. They’ll answer to either name, isn’t that right, boys?”
“Yes, sir,” they both respond.
“Nice to meet you both.” I hold out my hand for each of them to shake, and both of them actually look at Cannon as if asking his permission to touch me. That’s ridiculous, but even more absurd is that Cannon considers it for a few seconds before finally giving a single nod.
“Hi,” the first one says shyly when he takes my hand.
“Hey, how’s it going?” the second asks with a grin, holding my hand a few seconds longer than the first. “I’m Jake,” he inform
s me. Both boys are classically handsome but young enough that I’m certain they still have a lot to learn about the world before I would classify them as men.
“Enough,” Cannon declares, and Jake instantly lets my hand go. “Tell Miss Monroe what we did last night.”
Both boys give him wide eyes.
Cannon sighs. “Well, go on. We ain’t got all day.”
“We sat in a car outside of your townhouse,” Lucas blurts out.
“You what?” I exclaim, certain I misheard him. My mouth is gaping in disbelief when I turn back to Cannon.
The biker makes an annoyed grumbly sound and then scrubs his palm down his face. “Why were we there, boys? You just made it sound like we’re the three peeping musketeers.”
“Oh, right, to look for bad guys,” Jake says.
“And stop them from messing with you,” Lucas adds.
“That’s absolutely unnecessary and incredibly disturbing!” I tell Cannon.
“Nobody stepped foot in your townhouse, did they?” he asks.
“And they wouldn’t have even if you hadn’t been lurking around outside my house!”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” he says with a shrug. “Either way, the point is that you’re stuck with us.”
“For how long?”
“Eh, I don’t know. I guess until you win the election.”
I barely have a chance to enjoy the fact that he implied that he thinks I can win before things turn dark.
“We’re going to be stalking her until November?” Lucas exclaims in outrage. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he lowers his head submissively as if he knows he messed up before Cannon even moves.
In the blink of my eyes, Cannon has the front of Lucas’s shirt balled in his fist, tightening it around his neck. He doesn’t yell, but the quiet drawn-out words are even more menacing than if he had shouted them from the rooftop. “You will stalk her until the end of time if I tell you to, or you can leave now and forget about ever wearing the Savage Kings’ patch!” For maybe the first time since Cannon approached me yesterday, I think I’m well and truly afraid of him. Underneath his cool, flirty demeanor is a man who is capable of bad shit. I glance over at Jake to see his response, and it looks like he’s trying his best to not smile at the other boy’s discomfort, but there’s also respect in his eyes for Cannon.
“Sorry, sir,” Lucas apologizes.
There’s enough tension in the air to cut it with a knife, and however I may feel about Cannon, I refuse to let him know he scares me. Clearing my throat to get his attention off Lucas, I ask, “Do I at least get to object to being stalked?”
Cannon drops Lucas’s shirt in an instant; and when he looks at me again, his face doesn’t show even a hint of the man who is capable of terrorizing others but is back to the carefree playboy. “You can object all you want, but we’re not going anywhere until the election…in March.”
Jake opens his mouth to comment but quickly closes it. I answer the question for him.
“It’s a special election since the current mayor has decided to suddenly retire in the middle of his term.”
“I have no doubt that Bailey had a hand in that too,” Cannon mutters. “Less time for any competition to come at him when it’s a sudden retirement.”
“Too bad for him that I actually keep up with local politics,” I respond.
“Yeah, too bad for him,” Cannon says. “Now, could we take this party inside and shut the door before we all freeze to death?”
I sigh and hold the door open for the prospects since God knows I could use the free help even if I think Cannon is overreacting.
Chapter Eight
Cannon
Being inside Madison’s small office is an improvement from the cramped SUV. Once the boys followed her in their car to the office, and I followed them to make sure she got in safely, I went home and took a quick, hot shower, hoping it would help wake me up. It didn’t do much other than thaw me out a little, but seeing Madison up close and personal again this morning was all the jolt I needed to overcome the exhaustion.
Like yesterday, her makeup or her skin is flawless, her full lips painted a dark pink, and her midnight hair is pulled back into a low bun at the base of her neck. Today, she’s wearing a light, baby blue pantsuit that’s almost as pale as the white one yesterday. I’m starting to think she’s scared of bright colors.
“This way,” Madison says when she leads us to one of two other doors in the space. It’s not big enough for us to all fit inside, just me and her with the two other women sitting at a desk with open boxes next to them.
“If the…prospects want to take over the address labeling from Lily and Vanessa, I’m sure they would appreciate it,” Madison says sweetly to the boys, who are behind me, peeking over my shoulder.
“Who are…” one of the other women, either Lily or Vanessa asks.
“These are our new volunteers,” Madison responds, giving me a quick glance before she turns her attention back to the younger woman. “Lily, could you show them what needs to be done?”
“Well, sure,” she says. “You just take one of the address labels from this big long list, peel it off and place it on the postcard.”
“I think even these two can handle that,” I tell her.
“There’s only about thirty thousand of them,” Madison says when she goes over and pats the stack of boxes in front of the desk. Her moving further into the room allows the boys to come in. Both of their mouths have fallen open. “But don’t worry. You have until the end of the week to finish them.”
The fact that she’s giving them ‘til the end of the week makes me think that she’s finally embracing our intrusion into her life. Even if she doesn’t think her life is being threatened, she seems pleased with the free help.
“So, what do you need me to do for you, Madison?” I ask her. Even I recognize that it comes out sounding more like a salacious offer than a campaign volunteer. Everyone else in the room does too. Jake and Lucas don’t even try to fight their grins, and Lily and Vanessa both blush as if the question was directed at them. “Maybe you can give me the basics of hosting a fundraising event.”
“Why?” Madison asks suspiciously.
“Because I told you that the Kings want to help you, and it doesn’t take a genius to realize you need money if you’re going to have a chance at winning this election.”
“You’re serious?” she asks. “What if I lose more voters than gain them when word gets out that I’m associating with an outlaw biker gang?”
“Guess that’s a chance you have to take. But most of us were born and raised in the city. We have family and friends here, all of which know that we do what we can to support the community.”
“Chief Bailey will use the association against me, especially during our debate.”
“Probably,” I agree. “But there may be a way to get him to keep his mouth shut by one-upping him. The Kings know a few things about the former chief that I’m sure he wouldn’t want made public – like the fact that my brother Conrad, also a Savage King, knocked up his daughter Hannah after the chief ordered Conrad to basically kidnap her from college in California and bring her back by any means necessary so that she wouldn’t do anything that could be used against him.”
Madison blinks at me in surprise, and then she eyes me up and down like she’s really looking at me, seeing all of me for the first time in two days because I finally did something interesting enough to warrant her full attention. If I had to guess, I would even say that her stern, tense face softens just a little. Is dirt on the chief all it takes to put a chink in the thick, heavy armor the stubborn woman wears like a second skin? Wish I had known that yesterday. It could’ve saved us both some time.
I wait for her to say something, anything to prove I’m right. Finally, she does, and it’s everything I hoped it would be.
“Lily, Vanessa, why don’t you and the boys take this project into the front room where you’ll have more room to spread out? Cannon and I
have some strategy to discuss.”
“Should I help carry those boxes?” I offer, but Jake and Lucas have already picked up two each.
“We’ve got it,” Jake says before they leave the room with Lily and Vanessa hurrying to lead the way.
“Sit down and tell me everything you know about Bailey,” Madison says as she lowers herself into the chair behind the desk like a queen taking her throne. And for the first time in my life, I don’t mind taking orders from a woman. In fact, I’m hoping her next command is for me to get on my knees and worship her with my tongue.
Chapter Nine
Madison
Yesterday, I thought Cannon was attractive in an obvious way because of his big, strong body and classically handsome face. Today, I’m finding him nearly irresistible because of the secrets coming out of his mouth.
Guess the former police chief isn’t as upstanding as he pretends. The fact that he sent a Savage King to kidnap his own daughter sounds almost too good to be true.
“Do you know where his daughter is now?” I ask Cannon.
“Ah, yeah,” he answers, dangling the information like a carrot as he slouches in the seat across from me, legs spread wide, looking utterly masculine in the very best way.
“Well? Where is she? Do you think I could talk to her to confirm what you just told me?”
“I think that could be arranged.”
“How far along is she?”
“A little over three months now,” he says, less cocky now and more thoughtful. “She moved in with me and my brother.”
“I don’t think I could see you changing any diapers,” I remark, and for some reason that makes him wince before he shrugs.
“I’ll do what I have to for my niece or nephew.”
His response is surprising.
“Why did the chief want his daughter kidnapped and brought home?”
