I try to think of something to say in reply. Anything. But the deception that comes so easily to me in any other situation is absent. Because I can’t lie to Cannon. Not anymore.
“I just want to know who killed my father for investigating the Casso family.”
Cannon glances skyward, and the only witnesses to him trying to control his temper are the seagulls hovering around us, waiting for scraps or to crap on our heads. Given how my day’s going, the latter is more likely.
Would that be considered gallows humor?
Cannon rakes his gaze over my face before jamming a hand into his hair, mussing it completely. “Crazy fucking woman. Do you know what the fuck you’ve done? Do you have any goddamned idea?”
My first urge is to curl into myself, but I refuse to cower. “Is it stupid to want vengeance for the death of the only person who ever loved you? Is it really?” My voice shakes as I continue. “You watched your mother be gunned down. So tell me, Cannon Freeman, could you walk away from that without wanting justice?”
“Don’t fucking talk about my mother. She doesn’t have a single fucking thing to do with this. Other than the fact that her getting involved with Dom got her killed. Just like you sniffing around him is going to get you killed.” His hands flex before curling into fists as he paces the gravel.
I swallow the lump in my throat, but I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew that what I was doing carried more risk than any investigation I’ve undertaken before.
“Did he do it? If I’m going to die, just fucking tell me the truth. Did he order my father’s death?” I wrap an arm around my middle, as if bracing for the blow that will end me.
Cannon, the man who I let get closer to me than any man in my life, spins around and stomps away from me before pausing to let loose a roar of rage.
When he stalks back, his nostrils flaring, I stand my ground, even though I want to run. But my father didn’t raise a deserter. I put these wheels of fate into motion, and I’ll see it through. For better or for worse. No matter how stupid that is.
“Are you fucking serious? You think I know about every single goddamned hit? You think we keep a record book? A list of names, all neatly printed, just in case some snooping reporter wants to come in and find evidence to bring down the whole organization? Jesus Christ, woman. That’s not how it fucking works. What the fuck were you even thinking? You were never gonna find evidence of something like that.Ever.”
Now probably isn’t the best time to mention that I didn’t care what kind of evidence I found. I just wanted whoever was responsible in prison.
“So you don’t know?” I ask, holding tight to the reason I started this.
Gravel crunches beneath Cannon’s loafers as he closes the distance between us once more. He shoves my phone into my hand and then reaches up to grip both of my shoulders.
“If you had any fucking clue how badly I want to shake the shit out of you right now for being so goddamned stupid and reckless, you’d be running in the other direction.”
I refuse to shrink. I refuse to back down. I hold his stare with my own.
“What other choice did I have? The cops refused to listen to me. They treated me like a teenager with a conspiracy theory. I know my father didn’t shoot himself. I don’t give a fuck what they said. Someone killed him, and I want justice.”
Cannon squeezes his eyes closed for a second, and then his fingers dig into my jacket and his hazel eyes blaze.
“Justice. Like that’s even real. It won’t fucking bring him back. Nothing will. Trust me, I wanted to burn down the world when my mother was murdered. Not a goddamned thing took away any of the pain. You understand me? This is a losing battle. All you did is the one thing your father never would’ve wanted you to do—put yourself in danger. And then you went and dragged me into it.”
I bite down on my lip, hard. “I’m sorry, Cannon. I’m sorry for lying to you. For dragging you into this. You didn’t deserve it. I knew, almost immediately, that you couldn’t have had anything to do with this at all. I used you, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
At first, my apology falls on deaf ears. Nothing changes in Cannon’s expression when I say those words. As I open my mouth to repeatI’m sorryover and over again until he finally believes me, he releases his hold on my shoulders, and his hands lift to cradle my face. I can’t tell if he wants to rip my head off or kiss me.
“I’m a stupid fucking prick for even asking this question, but I have to know. Was any of it fucking real?”
Before I can answer, the sound of an engine revving comes from behind us, and Cannon lets go of my face and shoves me behind him. I peek around his shoulder to see a black sedan roll into the construction site.
“Fuck,” Cannon whispers.
The back door opens as soon as it parks, and out steps Dominic Casso.
“This isn’t my fucking office, Cannon.” He walks toward us, the gravel crunching beneath his feet sounding like a death knell.
“I’m handling it.”
Dom’s chin lifts. “Handling what exactly?”
“Go back to your office, Dom. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”