Amazon

Kanon
I’m not like the rest of the Warrior team. Most of them have a kick-butt military background. While they were fighting for their country, I was sitting in a prison cell—until a death bed confession to a priest freed me.

Now, I’m a Warrior. One of the team, and they’re my brothers. I’d take a bullet for any of these men. Will they still accept me when they know everything I’ve done? Or that my own mother betrayed me? My motto now: never trust a woman.

Nina

Forced into a loveless marriage within the confines of the Community, I vowed to escape someday, but I didn’t think that day would ever come until I walked into Joseph’s office and found him dead. The money in his desk drawer will buy me a new life.

My escape plan worked, and then I met Kanon. He doesn’t trust me, but the attraction between us is explosive and I’m drawn to the raw power that flows from him.

But just as he starts to believe me about what the Community really stands for, I become the prime suspect in my husband's death, and I must prove my innocence. Can I unravel the truth, or will Kanon’s doubts shatter the fragile bond we’re forging?

Prologue

Kanon

Kanon stepped out of the supply room, then stopped, warily looking around. The laundry room was empty. The others had probably left with the young rookie guard. He glanced at the wall clock--time for lunch. The guard was new, maybe twenty-two years old, and half scared of his own shadow. He probably didn't do a head count. Dumb mistake. If he didn't get fired, he'd at least catch hell.

He started to leave when he heard men talking. Two, maybe three. His eyes narrowed. A sure sign something was about to go down.

Fuck! Kanon had a feeling he was about to die in prison. No, he was pretty sure he was going to take his last breath any minute now. The footsteps were getting closer. His lip curled. He’d be damned if he went down without one hell of a fight.
He glanced around the laundry room for a weapon—anything he could use to defend himself. When he spotted the broom leaning against the wall, he hurried toward it.

It was his own damned fault. He’d been pushing his luck for the last year. Ever since they’d moved him to the men’s unit of the Gatesville prison in Texas. The one he'd previously been in closed down due to the lack of federal funding.

The gangs were already formed here, and he never had been one to fit in. He’d pissed off some of the high-ranking bosses running the cartel from the inside. They swore they would get him. Yeah, well, Kanon would take a few of them with him if he had anything to say about it.

The cocky bastards were talking, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. Maybe they’d paid the guard to look the other way. It wasn’t unheard of.

They had a surprise coming.

He grabbed the broom, slamming it across his thigh. The splintering of wood made a satisfying sound as it echoed through the cavernous room. He whirled around at the same time and threw himself toward the two men.

“Jesus, Kanon!” the older guard said as he stumbled back and fell on his ass.

Kanon had already blocked out his words as he went into fighting mode. He charged the other man, surprised there were only two of them.

He must’ve known Kanon’s next move because he deftly dodged the death blow, sticking out his foot at the same time. Kanon tripped and went crashing down, ramming his chin against the hard-ass concrete floor. Fuck, that hurt like a son of a bitch.

Dazed, Kanon jumped to his feet, ready to fight back. The man who’d just plastered Kanon’s face onto the floor wore a slight smile.
“What the hell are you doing, Kanon?” The guard said as he awkwardly came to his feet. Being slightly overweight didn’t help. “He only wants to talk to you. I figured you were still down here. That ignorant rookie didn't do a head count. I told them not to hire him. Dumber than a bag of rocks.”

Whatever fog that clouded his brain cleared. Okay, so it wasn’t one of the gangs he’d pissed off coming to end him. But who the hell was this man, and what did he want?

“I can see how you got the name Kanon,” the man drawled. “Loose Kanon, right?”

Kanon’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you, and what do you want?”

"I'm Carter James, and I'm here to get you out of prison unless, of course, you'd rather stay." He casually leaned against one of the folding tables, crossing his arms in front of him.

Kanon didn’t believe him or trust him. Hell, he didn't trust anyone, so that was nothing new. He eyed the man. This Carter guy was too polished for him, even though he looked like it was no big deal that he was in a prison full of thieves, murderers, and thugs. Carter had dark hair and wore a crisp blue shirt, pressed jeans, and boots polished to a glossy shine. Hell, if he looked close enough, Kanon could probably see his damned reflection in them.

But like he said, he didn’t trust anyone. “Unless you’re the governor, I doubt I’ll be leaving here for at least the next sixteen years. I’ve never met the man, but I’m pretty sure you’re not him.” His eyes narrowed. “If you’re wanting me to end someone, I’m not a hired killer, although there are a few I wouldn’t mind taking out just for the hell of it.”

"You're right. I'm not the governor, but I know him."

His heart began to beat a little faster, but he quickly brought everything under control. It was a hoax. It had to be. No one had ever done a fucking thing for him.

“I was sorry to hear your mother died,” Carter changed the subject.

"Yeah, I was all torn up about it," Kanon sarcastically stated. He'd saved her life, and what did he get in return? A twenty-year sentence and a prison cell. The first year behind bars, he fought to stay alive. By the second year, he could hold his own. No one messed with him. Someone gave him the nickname Loose Cannon because his temper flared at a second's notice, then boom.

It was shortened to Kanon and that’s what he went by now, except after the transfer, it was like starting all over again. Live or die, he didn’t much care anymore. Twenty years seemed like a lifetime to a seventeen-year-old who’d been tried as an adult.

Was he guilty? Hell, yeah, and he’d kill the bastard all over again if he could.

"Your mother gave a deathbed confession to a priest who just happens to know me," Carter continued.

Kanon snorted. "Did she say I was innocent? If she did, then you've wasted your time. I killed the son of a bitch, and I'd do it again."
“No, but she did give probable cause. She said you were protecting her. That he was beating her.”

Kanon’s gut twisted as he remembered hearing her testimony on the stand, claiming Kanon was the one who’d beaten her, and her husband had tried to protect her. That hurt a hell of a lot more than when the judge handed down the sentence.

“Too little, too late,” he mumbled.

"Not exactly. The priest believed her and did some investigating. He discovered the times you went to the ER and told them your stepfather beat you. Swamped social workers buried the case under a stack of other cases. They never arrested him for abuse, or if they did, he got out of jail the next day. You had a broken arm when you were ten, a concussion at eleven, and numerous cuts, burns, and bruises over the years. Your mother was seen for various injuries as well, along with drug abuse." His lips pressed together, and then he continued. "Your mother and Daniel separated briefly, and she started having mental problems. You had her committed to the state hospital when you were sixteen."

“Why the history lesson? I already know all this. Hell, I lived it.”

“Just stating fact,” Carter said.

“What good did it do me? She always got back on the drugs. It never lasted, and she always took Daniel back. He would get her hooked on the stuff again.”

"Except this last time. She came clean to the priest. She'd started attending church regularly and knew she had to confess her sins. The drugs had taken a toll on her body. She was dying."

Pain ripped through him. Maybe because, along with all the bad times, there had been those brief moments when he saw the woman she could've been. It never lasted, though.

He squared his jaw. “And because of her confession, I get an out of jail free card.”

“Not exactly. You still beat a man who later died. I was able to get it downgraded to involuntary manslaughter and time served.”
He snorted. “Yeah, so what’s the catch?”

"You're in my custody. The governor will allow probation under my supervision. You'll learn, get your diploma, and take some anger management classes because you still have one hell of a temper, which we just witnessed. Then you'll train, and when I think you're ready, you'll join my team."

His eyes narrowed. “And what does your team do?”

"We help people." He smiled. "Someone dubbed the group The Warrior Breed. We fight for the rights of people when they can't fight for themselves. Sometimes, we work for the government. When life is slow, we might replace security systems, or one of the men might even act as a bodyguard."

His eyes narrowed, still not trusting this stranger. “It’s a legit business?”

Carter smiled again.

Yeah, here comes the catch, Kanon thought to himself.

“Sometimes we skirt the edge, but yes, for the most part, it’s legit. So, are you interested, or do you like being locked up?”
“What if I don’t like the deal you're offering in, say…a year from now?"

“You’re on probation for the next two years, and I’m your guardian. After that, you’ll be free to go, but most choose to stay. It’ll be up to you. Take off before the two years are up, and you’ll find yourself finishing out the rest of your sentence.”

Kanon’s gaze moved around the laundry room, inhaling the pungent odor of bleach. He thought about spending the next sixteen years looking over his shoulder as he folded prisoner uniforms and bed sheets, waiting for a homemade knife, or a shank, to slide between his ribs when he least expected it. The last four years had been hell.

It wasn't a choice. "Yeah, I'll try it." Anything beat the hell out of life in prison.