Cannon (Carolina Reapers Book 5)

by Samantha Whiskey

  I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  When we’d found out my mother’s kidneys were failing, I’d immediately gotten tested as a potential donor. As did my father, a few of our close cousins, and several friends from my parent’s inner circle. None of us were a match, and I lived with that grief and anger every single day. It raged and roared in the tight box I kept it in, locked deep inside me as to not let anyone ever know how helpless I felt to save my mother. My favorite person in the entire world—the woman who’d raised me to be independent, to think for myself, to love fiercely, and to never take a single day for granted.

  “If I would’ve been a match,” I finally said. “You would’ve taken it willingly, or I’d have Daddy haul you into the hospital kicking and screaming.”

  She gaped at me, a smile lighting up her eyes. “I would never!”

  I laughed softly and shrugged. “Either way, I would’ve given it to you.”

  She squeezed my hand again. “I know, darling. You’ve always had such a big heart. You get that from your father, though most wouldn’t know it.”

  “How long is Andromeda staying this time?” I tried to keep the contempt from my tone, but even my grace had its limits. My older sister had refused to get the test when I’d tracked her down to ask her—claimed if I wasn’t a match, then she wouldn’t be either, so it would be a waste of time. She’d stuck to that excuse even after I’d explained to her it didn’t work like that.

  That familiar rage bubbled in my chest, and it took a great deal of time to stop it from boiling over. My mother didn’t deserve to see my contempt for my sister, didn’t deserve to see her two daughters fight. Not when she had so little time left.

  Which is why it would be even harder to tell her the truth about Cannon. Something I planned to do, after a few more deep breaths.

  “A few weeks, I believe,” Mama answered me. “I’ve drawn up the guest room for her the way she likes. Had Harold put up those ghastly black-out curtains she simply can’t sleep without.”

  Have patience. Exude grace. Be forever grateful for your lot in life.

  I repeated the words my mother raised me on while taking a deep breath. I was grateful for all we’d been given. It was no secret us VanDoren girls were blessed at birth. We were born into the money and privilege my family had worked hard for, and I’d spent my entire life ensuring I didn’t take a second of it for granted. My sole focus since grade school had been to spread our wealth to those who needed it more, and the endless charity work I’d done simply because I love doing it landed me the career I had today. I’d never dreamed of being able to do what I’m passionate about and get paid for it until the day Asher Silas—owner of the Carolina Reapers—offered me the job as the head of his charity foundation. And he’d surprised me even more when he agreed to my request for my salary to be spread among the charities we chose together each year.

  A sizzle of heat licked right up my spine as the thought of the home I’d made with the Reapers raced through my mind.

  Tattoos—ink and color and designs everywhere. Swirling or jagged, the ink covered nearly every inch of his skin.

  The memory flashed, cloudy and distant, as quick as a blink.

  Had I dreamed of seeing him without his shirt? Or had that actually happened?

  Heaven save me, I was in a world of trouble.

  And that trouble would triple once I said what I’d come here to say.

  “You didn’t bring your hockey star,” Mama said, a chiding look in her eyes.

  “No,” I said on a breath of air. “I didn’t.”

  “I did make your father lock the guns up,” she said, leaning closer. “I’m not so foolish as to invite the husband we’ve never met and not take some precautions.”

  A half-panicked, half-sincere laugh tumbled from my lips. The idea of my father pointing a shotgun at Cannon…a cold chill raced across my skin. I don’t believe the man would even flinch. Cannon kept himself locked in a hard exterior as impenetrable as Fort Knox, and yet, somehow, he’d allowed himself to get so far gone we’d gotten married. I still couldn’t make sense of it.

  “You see, Mama—”

  “You don’t have to be ashamed, darling,” she cut me off. “I know how love takes hold of us in unexpected ways and never lets go. I understand the strength of passion and how it can push us to do terrifying yet beautiful things.” She flashed me a conspirator smile. “That’s how you know it’s good.”

  My lips parted, the words getting tangled somewhere between the shock of my mother’s approval of such a rash decision and her romanticized talk of passion.

  “Can I ask one thing, though? Beyond meeting him, of course.”

  I tilted my head, speechless.

  “Please let me plan a real wedding.” The hope in her eyes hit me like a hammer—the big kind that took no issue cracking fissures down a line of concrete. “Lord knows I’ll never be able to do it for Andromeda. I’ve lost count of how many marriages and annulments she’s acquired on her travels.” Mama leaned a bit closer, lowering her voice. “I believe that is the source of your father’s…frustration with this Vegas business. But I told him it’s not fair to punish you for your sister’s mistakes.”

  “Thank you,” I choked out.

  She nodded and continued. “Anyway, with the donor waiting list being so long and my health deteriorating so fast…well, I know how to do the math. It would bring my heart so much joy if I could plan a real wedding for you and your man. Watch you walk down that aisle and take your vows.”

  The only thing that kept me from dropping my jaw was years of practice at schooling my features—being a proper VanDoren, we never showed our hand before we had to.

  “Is it too much to ask?” Mama asked sincerely. “I mean, who doesn’t love a party? And we would obviously work around his schedule, unless…” her eyes dropped to my stomach. “Unless there was a pressing reason you tied the knot in Vegas.”

  I laughed, shaking my head at the absurdity of that claim.

  Difficult to conceive a child when you’ve never had sex before.

  “Of course not, Mama,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Well, I wouldn’t have said no to a grandbaby, but just as well.” She shifted in her seat, an alarm softly ringing from the crisp white watch on her left wrist. “Walk me to my room?”

  I stood from my chair, my heart racing and breaking at the same time as I helped her to stand. I walked her through the house, grateful when we didn’t run into my father, or my sister returning no doubt from wherever she’d run off to shop for clothes. It was beyond me how she constantly started over with every city she traveled to, but I suppose endless means could do that to a person.

  I turned into Mama’s bedroom, forgoing the main portion with their canopied king and instead settled her into a simple but elegant leather chair near the window. A gray box half the size of the chair sat next to it, a white machine with an array of tubing atop it.

  “Here,” I said as she settled into the chair. “Let me.” She remained silent as I gently hooked her up to the at-home dialysis machine, and once again thanked the good lord that we were able to afford the at-home care. My mother was one of the strongest women I knew, and she wanted everyone to see her as such. Not that this made her weak, not in the slightest, but she was a private woman when it came to her illness.

  “How is that?” I asked as I placed a pillow under her arm.

  “Wonderful,” she said, resting her head back against the chair, the whir of the machine humming beside her. “So, what do you think?”

  I could barely breathe around the ache in my chest. Around the split in my heart. I never lied to my Mama, but this…she deserved any joy I could give her before…

  “Let me speak with Cannon,” I said finally.

  A wide smile shaped her lips, then she raised her brows. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go ask him.” She shooed me away with her free arm.

  I kissed her forehead, swallowing down the tears that were
desperate for release. But I kept my smile firmly planted on my lips as I left the estate, because with what I had to do? Convince Cannon Price to marry me…again? I needed all the strength I could get.

  3

  Cannon

  The sounds of the weight room brought a little balance back to my very fucked up reality. I’d always liked to work out. The shape of my body was something in my direct control through the diet I chose and the work I was willing to put into it. I liked things I could control.

  “So, not to address the elephant in the room or anything,” Logan said as he appeared overhead as I bench pressed. “But what exactly are you going to do about that whole wedding ring thing?”

  “Do you see it on my hand?” I growled as I pushed through a rep.

  “Well, none of us wear rings in the weight room. You know exactly what I’m trying to say.” He folded his arms across his chest.

  I set the bar back on the rack and sat up with a heavy sigh. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about this right now. Or ever. “Can we just not right now?”

  “Sure. Or you could have called me back any of the nine times I called you.” He shrugged.

  The sounds around me ceased, and a quick glance showed that all six other Reapers in the room had halted their workouts and were staring at me. Lukas, Axel, Connell, Noble, Sterling, and yep, Ward was still staring, too.

  “If you guys are looking for me to empty my heart out on the gym floor, you’ve all lost your fucking minds.”

  “That’s assuming you have a heart to empty…” Lukas teased with a smirk.

  “Leave him alone,” Axel warned. As our team captain, the man took his responsibilities seriously, both on and off the ice, and apparently during the off-season, too.

  “Come on, it’s natural for us to be curious,” Connell argued in his thick Scottish brogue. “You went to Vegas and married Persephone.”

  “Which he thought was a prank you’d devised,” Sterling said as he wiped the sweat off his face with a towel. “Seriously, it would have been funny if it hadn’t been so…well, out of character for everyone involved.”

  “Och, that would have been a good one,” Connell admitted thoughtfully. “But since I had no hand in your impetuous acts, I feel a little bereft and need you to fill the hole in my soul with the knowledge of what you’re going to do.”

  “We’re getting an annulment,” I announced, avoiding the hollow feeling that burrowed inside my chest and set up house. “That’s what you do when you accidentally marry the queen of the debutante ball in a drug-and-alcohol-induced bout of Vegas insanity. Hell, I’m pretty sure Vegas is the reason annulments exist in the first place.”

  The guys glanced at each other as if they were privy to some secret.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. You’re all going to stand here like a bunch of moping matchmakers until you have your say, so just say it.” I rested my elbows on my knees and settled in for one of their life-is-great-when-you’re-in-love pep talks that they usually gave each other.

  “You actually want our opinions?” Noble asked as he climbed out of the leg press.

  “No, but I know that’s not going to stop you from giving them to me, so feel free.” Maybe if I sat through this shit once, they’d leave me alone to deal with it.

  “I think you should give it a try,” Axel stated with a nod.

  Every head turned his direction, and most had the same disbelieving look of what the fuck that I did.

  “I’m sorry, but you think that giant, scary-ass man should stay married to the cute, fragile-looking woman who runs our charitable foundation?” Lukas questioned.

  “I do.” He stood there with his arms folded across his chest, confident in his statement. “Look, I’m the only man in this room who had a quickie wedding—under some really false pretenses, I might add—and look how we ended up? I fucking love my wife and wouldn’t change a thing about how we got to this point.”

  “Right, but you wanted that marriage,” Noble argued. “You were the one who asked Langley for it, if I remember correctly. You didn’t just wake up married to the woman and think, well, let’s make the best of it.”

  “If I had woken up next to Langley—” Sterling started with a smirk.

  “Don’t finish that fucking sentence,” Axel warned, leveling a glare on the kid.

  “I’m with Noble on this one, Cannon,” Connell said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “That lass is no match for you.”

  “Hey, she’s not exactly weak,” Logan countered.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Connell argued. “She’s sweet and kind, and he’s…” He gestured at me.

  “The surliest bastard on the entire planet?” Lukas offered.

  “Exactly.” Connell nodded. “I think you’re making the right decision with an annulment. I say set the lass free before you hurt her, because whether you mean to or not, she’s going to get scraped up.”

  He was right, which was exactly the reason I’d called my lawyer in the first place.

  “Oh, come on. Do you see the way they look at each other?” Sterling stepped into the fray.

  The group muttered.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked since no one wanted to offer an answer to that ridiculous question.

  “He’s right.” Axel nodded. “When you two aren’t fighting over something ridiculous, or generally pissing each other off, you do…well…look at each other.”

  My gaze narrowed on the man, and he had the nerve to grin at me.

  “She looks at you like you’re… I don’t know. I guess a mixture of devil and dessert,” Sterling said with a shrug. “When you’re not looking, of course.”

  “Right? Like that time she fell into his lap on the plane?” Logan added.

  “You’re not helping my cause here,” I told my best friend.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “And sorry to tell you, but you look at her like you’re torn between worshipping her and carrying her off to worship her, if you get my meaning,” Sterling said. “You know, in the hot, sweaty way of—”

  “We get it!” Lukas shouted. “Christ, you’re talking about a woman we work with.”

  “A hot woman we work with,” Sterling muttered. “And it’s not like I was saying that I wanted to—”

  “Enough.” I shot a glare at the kid to make sure he understood my meaning.

  “Are we talking about the sudden marriage of one Cannon Price to Persephone VanDoren?” Sawyer asked as he walked into the weight room. “Because I can hear that shit all the way down the hall.”

  Great, now I had to listen to the resident newlywed weigh in.

  “You have an opinion?” Noble asked him.

  “Me?” Sawyer’s eyebrows shot up. “Hell no. Cannon, I love you like a brother, and you deserve to be happy. Persephone is pretty fucking awesome, but if she isn’t the one, and this is really some giant fuck-up, then exit with grace, my man.” He took a seat on the bench across from mine.

  “And do you have an opinion?” I asked Logan as he stood beside me, just like he always did.

  He sighed and ripped his hand across his hair. “Honestly, you know I’m going to back whatever decision you make. That’s my job as your friend.”

  “And I appreciate that. But if everyone in here is giving me their best Dr. Phil, I wouldn’t mind hearing your actual thoughts.” I’m not sure how I managed to say it, but I did. The more they all talked, the higher my blood pressure spiked.

  “I think you guys have something. I think we’ve all seen it since that first moment you met, and we’ve watched you two dance around each other for almost two years. You want to explore that? Cool. There are six men in here who will testify that our happiness is dependent on the way we feel about our women.”

  The guys muttered an ascent.

  “Sterling will tell you that his happiness is dependent on the way a plethora of women feel about him.” Logan arched a brow at the resident playboy of the Reapers, but hey, non
e of us were perfect our rookie years. “I also think that girl is a good one. She’s the kind of woman you don’t fuck around on. The woman you hold on to for the rest of your life. And you, my friend, are carrying about three tons of damage like it’s nothing. I’m not saying that she won’t help you dig through your shit, because I think she will. But I am saying that if you’re going to use that damage as an excuse to run, then you do it now before either of you gets hurt.”

  I nodded, knowing that what he said made the most sense out of any of them. Then I stood and headed for the door.

  “Hey, are you going to tell us what you decided?” Connell asked.

  I turned in the doorway to face down the friends that had become my family over the last two seasons. “Really?”

  “We could vote,” Sterling suggested. “But I should get to show everyone the videos of you guys in Vegas. It seems only right to put the evidence out there.”

  “Everyone’s already seen the videos,” Axel countered.

  My temper snapped.

  “Sure, we could vote. You know, if my life was a fucking democracy that you guys ran.” I folded my arms over my chest and glared them down. “But it’s not. It’s my life to fuck up, so while I value everyone’s thoughts, let’s just all agree that you’ll never give them to me again unless I ask, okay? Because the last time I checked, there are only two people in my marriage, and lucky for me, none of you are my wife.”

  My wife. While part of me rebelled against the term, kicking and screaming in all of my stubborn glory, there was an annoying warmth that filled my chest, too.

  “You’re a little too dominant for me,” Connell replied with a smirk.

  “You don’t have to listen to us,” Axel agreed. “Hell, I’m not really sure you’ve listened to anyone in your entire life. But I hope you give this a chance. You deserve your shot at happiness, too.”

  And that warmth shriveled and died.

  “It’s not about what I deserve. It’s about what she deserves. I am more fucked up than any of you know. You think she’s going to want me all tatted up and hair-triggered at her fucking country club? I’m the guy you fuck on a spring break weekend so you can brag about it to your sorority sisters, and the only reason a woman would ever introduce me to her daddy is to piss him off so she can work out her own issues. Trust me, she wants this annulment just as badly as I do, and the press has to be killing her.”