Cannon (Savage Kings MC - South Carolina Book Series 5) Read online
Cannon
Savage Kings MC - South Carolina
Lane Hart
D.B. West
Contents
Synopsis
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Coming Soon
About the Authors
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue were created from the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.
The authors acknowledge the copyrighted and trademarked status of various products within this work of fiction.
© 2021 Editor's Choice Publishing
All Rights Reserved.
Only Amazon has permission from the publisher to sell and distribute this title.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editor’s Choice Publishing
P.O. Box 10024
Greensboro, NC 27404
Edited by Angela Snyder
Cover by Marianne Nowicki of www.PremadeEbookCoverShop.com
WARNING: THIS BOOK IS NOT SUITABLE FOR ANYONE UNDER 18. IT CONTAINS SEXUALLY AND PHYSICALLY VIOLENT SCENES THAT MAY BE A TRIGGER FOR SOME INDIVIDUALS.
Synopsis
When the livelihood of the Savage Kings MC is threatened, Cannon Erikson steps up. He’s ready to do whatever it takes to win the war the former police chief started thanks to his twin, Conrad’s involvement with the chief’s daughter.
Cannon’s determined to ruin the chief’s political aspirations, starting by backing his opponent in the race for mayor.
Madison Monroe has never had anyone to rely on except for herself. She worked her ass off chasing her dreams, earning a law degree, interning with political campaigns, and now, finally, going after her ultimate goal - making her own run for public office.
Unfortunately, not everyone in this world has the same moral compass as Madison. She’s never dealt with a dirty opponent, one who will cross every ethical line just to hurt her and undermine her campaign.
When the former chief of police comes after Madison with all the resources and connections he still has in the city, Madison will have no choice but to turn to an unforeseen ally.
The Savage Kings MC doesn’t mind fighting dirty.
In fact, for Madison, nothing will stop Cannon from protecting her. Especially when the playboy biker finds himself falling for the stubborn, ambitious woman.
Chapter One
Cannon Erikson
I’m fucking exhausted.
Thoughts of vengeance for my brother Conrad, his girlfriend Hannah, and the entire Savage Kings MC are all that are keeping me on my feet, a broom in my frozen, chapped hands thanks to the chilly, late-January air that’s been constantly blowing around me.
For the past three days, Darius, the Harley dealership’s one other winter retail employee, along with Lucas and Jake, the club’s two prospects, have been helping me clean up the mess left behind in the showroom. The one that was caused by some kind of Hummer or military vehicle, maybe even a damned tank, rolling through the glass doors and over all of our brand-new bikes. I gotta give whoever did it credit. They didn’t miss a single one. Half a million dollars in inventory was destroyed in the blink of an eye. The insurance company is giving us hell since it was neither a natural disaster nor a robbery. Winston, our main mechanic and fellow brother in the MC, is working with his team in the shop, doing some custom work on the bikes that were still mostly in one piece, trying to salvage what we can.
I don’t like all these negative feelings that are trying to boil over inside of me. My preference has always been to let the small shit slide and keep things light and happy, avoiding anything serious ever.
This direct attack on the Kings is not something that can simply be ignored, unfortunately. And since my brother has a baby on the way, he doesn’t need to any additional stress on his shoulders. I plan to handle this mess for him, if I can, while he lays low.
So far Conrad hasn’t been arrested for beating the shit out of the former police chief, which is more than a miracle. It has to be some sort of plot by the fat fuck who is, at this very moment, daring to walk through the open front of the showroom he destroyed with two uniformed officers on either side of him. The layers of clothes I’m wearing are suddenly too warm thanks to the rage growing inside of me.
“You lost, you porky fucking bastard?” I yell at him, throwing my broom to the ground. From the corner of my eye, I notice Darius, Jake, and Lucas all freeze around me like they’re not sure what to do. The gun tucked into the back of my jeans feels heavier than usual, and the urge to whip it out and either beat the bastard with it or shoot him is so strong I have to ball my hands into fists to resist. I have no doubt that as soon as my hands disappear out of sight for even a second the cops would all gladly go for their guns and put a clip of bullets in me. Even the former chief is armed, his gun holstered next to a shiny badge that I know is worthless. He resigned his position to run for mayor because he wants to try and be threatening. Can’t say I blame him for going armed once I finally get a good look at his fat face. He is still bruised and puffy around both eyes and his lip from the damage Conrad did to him. I’m not exactly sure what tipped my normally calm brother over the edge to violence, but the thought of his pain makes me smirk at him.
“What the hell happened here?” Bailey, the asshole, says as he glances around while hefting up the waist of his khakis. His damned pants haven’t stayed up on their own as long as I’ve known him; he’s had that gut since he was my age. “Looks like you finally pissed off the wrong person.”
“Well, you know the saying, what goes around comes around,” I mutter. “Or even better, karma’s a bitch and then you die.”
“Is that a fucking threat?” one of the uniformed officers grits out as he puts his hand on the butt of his weapon.
Grinning even wider, I ask, “Where were these pussies when my brother was whipping your ass? Looks like you could’ve used the backup then because your face is still fucked up. Or is that how it always looks? I honestly can’t remember your lumpy, ugly ass mug now that it’s covered in bruises.”
“Watch it,” the fucker warns.
“Or what? You’ll drive a tank through our dealership? Too late.”
“I came here to offer you a chance to keep that perverted brother of yours out of prison, but never mind. I’ve had a change of heart. We’ll go pick him up now.”
Goddammit.
The son
of a bitch turns to leave, and it takes all of the strength in my soul to swallow down my pride and say, “Wait.” I don’t want Conrad to get locked up; and by running my mouth, I’m only making shit worse.
Looking over his shoulder through his swollen eyes, he says, “You finally ready to play nice?”
“What do you want?” I huff. I’m too tired and too angry to play games with him.
“Take a walk,” he tells the officers, “but stay close.” To me, he says, “Looks like your crew could use a break.”
The officers hesitate at first; but when I give our guys a head nod in the direction of the lounge, they finally head out. The cops slowly walk back outside, down the steps to the parking lot. From there, they can still see us, but they can’t hear, which is obviously what Bailey wanted.
“Just spit it out already,” I tell him, wanting to get this over with. He takes a few steps to come closer but still stays a good three feet away as if he’s afraid I might pound him into the ground like Conrad did.
“I’m prepared to not press charges against Conrad if you’ll agree to do me a favor.”
“A favor? You sure about that? I’m pretty sure that the last time you came in here and asked for a favor, my brother fucked your oldest daughter and knocked her up,” I remind him. “How old is your youngest girl again? Want me to pop her cherry for you?”
He lunges forward, and I know I deserved having his fist plow into my jaw for that low blow, but still, it only makes the urge to choke him with my bare hands even stronger.
“You stay the fuck away from my family!” he warns through clenched teeth as the officers outside come a little closer to check on things.
“As long as you stay the fuck away from mine,” I reply. “And that includes Hannah now. Not that you ever seemed to care about her; just how her actions might hurt your political aspirations.”
About three months ago, the asshole blackmailed my brother into going to get his daughter and bring her home from California because she’d been racking up a few minor criminal charges that he thought may make him look bad in his run to fill the mayor seat in a special election. How convenient that the mayor up and decided to retire in the middle of his term and he hand-selected former chief Bailey to take over for him?
“I don’t give a shit about her. She’s a lost cause,” Bailey replies, flexing his fingers like my jaw hurt them. Good, I’m glad. Hope it hurt him more than it did me. “You and your brother can both have that knocked-up whore for all I care. She’s a god-damned disgrace, and I don’t want anything to do with her.”
I have to grit my teeth to keep from commenting on that statement. If Conrad was here, I’m sure he would’ve killed him by now for insulting the woman he loves; and as a result, he would probably be dead too.
“Now,” Bailey says. “If you’ll shut up for a minute, I’ll tell you what you’re going to do for me unless you want your brother locked up for so long his kid is in kindergarten before he ever meets it.”
“What am I going to do for you?” I grumble. I would do almost anything to avoid that happening to Conrad. It would break him to be away from Hannah or the baby for more than a few days.
“You’re going to find me some good dirt on my opponent. You’ve got forty-eight hours.”
“Who’s your opponent?” I ask with a sigh.
“A stuck-up little bitch named Madison Monroe.” He pulls a white handkerchief from his pocket to dab his sweaty forehead, his face burning red even though it’s probably not even fifty degrees in here.
“And what if I can’t find any dirt on her?” I question him.
“If she’s squeaky clean, then you’ve got forty-eight hours to figure out a way to strongly encourage her to drop out of the race.”
By “encourage” he obviously means he wants me to intimidate the woman or worse. “You really are scared of losing to some ‘little bitch’,” I remark with a smirk.
“She doesn’t have a chance in hell of beating me!” he exclaims, raising his voice loud enough that I’m sure even his officers heard. He glances over his shoulder at them and seems to regain his control on his temper. “But I prefer guarantees instead of leaving anything to chance.”
“You’re a real piece of shit,” I tell him honestly.
“And your brother is done if you don’t pull this off,” he warns before he starts to walk away. As he leaves, he calls out, “Conrad may have gotten the best of me once; but when he’s locked up, I’ll make sure he gets a daily dose of his own medicine.”
Shit. He’ll do it too — pay fuckers to beat on my brother every day while he’s behind bars. Hell, some would probably love to do it for free, of that I have no doubt.
I would do pretty much anything to keep Conrad out of prison and safe, but I don’t think I could ever willingly hurt a woman. Especially not for that fat fuck Bailey.
There has to be another way. I’m just not sure what that is yet.
Chapter Two
Madison Monroe
“Where are we on getting the permit for tomorrow?” I ask Lily, my campaign manager, as I walk up to her desk late in the afternoon. My campaign office is small, just a one-bathroom, two room space in a mostly deserted strip mall since it’s the off-season for the tourist city. The place wasn’t my first choice or even my second, but money is tight and it’s better than working out of my townhouse.
“Ah, sorry, Madison, but I’m still working on it. The city is being…difficult,” she says with a wince while pushing her straight, shoulder-length light brown hair behind both of her ears nervously.
“Why is the city being difficult? We sent in the application over a week ago, well within the three days required with the processing fee. They have to approve it.”
“Yes, but they still haven’t confirmed,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I need you to be more proactive here and less apologetic.”
“Right.” Getting to her feet, she drags her purse from one of the desk drawers and throws the straps over her shoulder. “I’ll go down there right now and refuse to let them leave for the night until I have the permit in my hand.”
“Great. Thank you,” I tell her before she rushes out the door.
Harlen and Vanessa both look up from their little desks with the same worried expression on their faces. Harlen, the tall, lean law student with already thinning bronze hair works part-time handling media concerns for the campaign while Vanessa, a middle-aged soccer mom of three, is my part-time money manager. She hasn’t had much work to do because it only takes five minutes a day to count the current state of the campaign funds. In her free time, she’s been helping me prepare mail fliers and other promotional materials.
“What’s wrong?” I ask them both.
“Not to be a downer, but only one media organization has confirmed they’ll be at the announcement tomorrow,” Harlen informs me.
“One?” I repeat in disbelief.
Cringing even lower in his seat, he adds, “And it’s a blog.”
“A blog? That’s the only media confirmed to attend my announcement that I’m running for mayor?”
“Sorry,” he says.
I close my eyes and rub my aching forehead, wondering for the hundredth time if I’m biting off more than I can chew. Maybe I should’ve started by running for city council, but I’ve never been very patient. When I see something I want, I just go for it and I get it through hard work and stubborn determination.
“Madison…” Vanessa starts, reminding me that there’s more bad news.
“How bad is the bank account?” I ask her, forcing my eyes to open and meet hers.
“If you don’t raise some funds soon, we’re not going to have enough for February’s rent.”
“Shit,” I mutter. “I’ll pay for it out of my pocket if I have to,” I assure her.
“It’s not that,” she starts.
“Yes?”
“If we don’t even have the campaign funds to keep the office open, th
en we don’t have any for television or print ads.”
“I know, and I’m going to try and organize some fundraisers just as soon as we get the official announcement out of the way.”
“Okay, sure,” she says, giving me the same supportive smile that I’m sure she gives her children when she thinks they’re being incredibly naïve.
Not that I would know firsthand. Growing up, my parents were both litigation lawyers who worked sixty or more hours a week. They were too busy to take time to smile at me or listen to whatever nonsense I had going on at my elite private school. Some kids in my situation may have acted out to get attention, but I knew better. If I had cost them precious time at the firms, then I’m certain they would’ve sent me away to boarding school. They made plenty of money but had no time for a life. Or at least they’ve never had time for me.
The most comfort anyone has ever given me in all my years came from a complete stranger. The night our house was robbed, when I was only seventeen, I was sitting in the police station alone, giving a statement to the detectives. One of them, Detective Andrews, made me a cup of coffee and put a blanket around my shoulders when I start shivering. It was incredibly decent of him, so much so that I nearly cried. But that was one other thing my parents wouldn’t have approved of me doing. Getting emotional doesn’t solve anything.