Loving Mr. Cane (Cane 3)

Bad Things:

Can be a sarcastic asshole

Too much baggage

Crazy ex who wants to kill me

Too many family secrets

Gets jealous way too easily

Work-a-holic

Works for a cartel leader

Hasn’t always been a good person

Good Things:

Makes me smile

Good at giving gifts

Great sex

Big heart

Treats me like I am special

Makes me so, so happy

Doesn’t want kids (good now that I can’t have any)

Always ready to fight for me

Tattoos

His hugs are amazing

He loves me

I sat back in my chair, reading over the good and bad, surprised that the good outweighed it. Before, the bad was so strong—so intense that it was all I could focus on. I had overlooked all of the good. Why? Because I was afraid of what would come next. I was so focused on the bad that the good came close to meaning nothing…but there it was, right in front of me. His goodness shined bright, and I’m sure I’d missed a lot more, but it was there. Right in my face, the letters seared in my brain.

Maybe there was something left to fight for…but even so, a part of me was still too afraid to go after it.

Chapter Eight

CANE

Two Weeks Later

“Are you really leaving today?” Lora stood between the frames of my bedroom door, watching me collect some paperwork from the desk.

I looked around, holding my hands out. “Doesn’t it look like it?” I gestured to the empty room. Everything was gone except my desk, which I had used last night to finish up some work. I’d hired movers several days ago to take my belongings to the new home I bought in Charlotte, North Carolina. The new home was slightly bigger than the one in Atlanta, and I don’t know what had possessed me to buy it. It just felt…right.

“You’re leaving so much behind, and really fast, Q.” She came into the room, folding her arms. “There’s too much up in the air. You don’t even know what’s going to happen to Kelly. They’ll probably call your lawyer, want you to testify.”

“They don’t need my testimony anymore. Apparently her lawyer has worked out some kind of plea deal. My lawyer is there to speak on my behalf, in case they need anything from me, which I highly doubt they will.”

“And Jefe?” she demanded, staring me down.

I looked down, stacking the papers. “He’ll know where to find me.”

“And Kandy?” Her voice was firmer this time.

I was about to staple the papers, but her name was more than enough to stop me. I stared down, avoiding my sister’s eyes. “I can’t do anything about her, Lora. She already told me she needed space at the hospital, and I haven’t heard from her in weeks. I’ve tried calling, but get her voicemail constantly, and she’s clearly been ignoring my texts. I don’t want to show up and make matters worse for her or her family.” I finally looked up. “If she wants to move on, who am I to stop her?”

“You’re Quinton fucking Cane, that’s who!” she yelled, dropping her arms. “When have you ever backed away from something you wanted?”

I scoffed and shook my head, stapling the papers together. My eyes roamed to the letter to the right. On it was Kandy’s name, written in my ledger. I’d written it last night, right here at this desk, while sipping on too much scotch. I couldn’t sleep worth a damn, and she was constantly on my mind. The rapid move was making me feel all sorts of things, but most importantly, knowing that I would no longer be a short ride away bothered me. I was going to be in a completely different city, but I couldn’t leave without letting her know how I felt first. After reading over it this morning, though, I felt like a fool for writing it. She didn’t want me…but I still wanted her. So fucking much.

I set the stapled packet down and picked up the letter with a sigh. I suppose at this point I didn’t have much else to lose.

Walking around the desk, I met up to Lora, focusing on Kandy’s name on the envelope in bold blue ink. “I need you to take this to her before you drive down. Let her know I’m leaving tonight.”

She frowned down at it. “You want me to take it today?”

I met her eyes. “If possible.”

She took it away from me. “What does it say?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just go by her house, ask for her, even if her parents are there. It’s better if she sees you.”

She frowned. “Why me? Why not just do it yourself?”

“You know damn well if they see my face they won’t open that door.”

She exhaled, and her pale hair shifted with the blow. It was no longer a deep, pastel blue. It’d turned into a faded color with more blonde showing than anything. “Fine. Any other requests?”