White Knight (Dirty Mafia Duet, #2)(63)

“You’re not getting married in Ibiza or New Orleans, are you?” Creighton asks me.

“Not if you let me borrow one of your jets next week.”

Creighton shakes his head at me. “You would fucking do that.”

I shrug, but a smile tugs at one corner of my mouth. “I’m doing whatever the fuck she wants for a wedding. Dom’s in Florida. You and Holly are heading back to Tennessee. Cav and Greer are in LA. Eden’s in New Orleans—”

“And you don’t want to wait to make Memphis yours,” Creighton says with a crooked grin of his own. “I get it. I really fucking do. If that’s what you want, I’ll make sure there’s a long-haul jet fueled up and waiting on the tarmac at Teterboro when you need it.”

“I appreciate that, brother. Because I’m not waiting any longer. I’m ready. She’s the one. No need to wait and plan all the stuff. I just want to go do it and make her mine.”

“Then that’s what you’ll do. I’m fucking happy for you, Cannon. Really damn happy. You deserve it. But you better believe that we’re throwing you a hell of a reception when we can get the whole family together after you get back. It’s happening.”

“Fair enough.”

He holds out his hand and I take it, leaning in to give him a back-slapping hug. Having Creighton back in my life means the world to me. It’s like regaining a missing limb.

As we separate, I notice a man walking up the sidewalk toward us in jeans, a dark hoodie pulled up over his head and obscuring his face. I reach for the piece tucked into my waistband, but he hits the pool of light cast by the streetlight just behind my Bentley and lifts his head, revealing a familiar face.

“I ain’t gonna jump you. Not when I’ve been hoping like hell I’d run into you both. And now here you both are, like fate put me in your way,” Gabriel Legend says, pushing back his hood.

Creighton puts himself between Legend and the Cullinan—just like me, always moving to protect his woman first.

“What the hell do you want, Legend?” I ask the man as he shoves one hand in his pocket. The other looks like the knuckles are busted, and he flexes it as if he just walked away from a fight.

His shakes his wild mane of hair free from where it’s caught in his hood and lifts his chin. “Got a business proposition for you. Opening a new club.”

Like the underground club he owns where Teal got in trouble, I’ll bet.

“Casso family is clean. We’re not interested,” I tell him.

Creighton stays silent, as if answering is beneath him because it’s ridiculous to expect he’d give money to the street fighter turned illegal club owner.

“No. Not a dirty club,” Legend says, shaking his head. “A high-class one that’ll attract every celebrity in town, especially the ones who can’t get into your damn cigar bar.”

“You’re going legit? I don’t buy it,” Creighton says, his tone rife with skepticism.

Legend lifts his chin at me. “Cassos did it. Shouldn’t be so hard to believe.”

“Sounds like a bad investment to me,” my brother says, pushing back at Legend.

“What if I’m willing to pay you back at double the market rate?”

I gotta give the guy credit. He’s asking the right people. If he could get our money behind his club, he’d have no problem attracting more investors.

“You that sure it’ll succeed?” I ask him.

“Yeah. Fuck yeah, I am. I’m doing this, with or without investors. I got a plan, and it’s not gonna fail.”

Knowing what I do about clubs in this city, I should disagree with him. But he already runs what I understand is one of the most profitable underground enterprises in the city. Although going legit is a different proposition altogether, some part of me is still intrigued.

“Ask me again after I get back from my wedding in a few weeks,” I tell him, stepping toward the back door of the Bentley.

“Might not need your money by then. You don’t want to miss out on Urban Legend.”

“Apropos. I just hope you don’t end up as one,” Creighton says and then nods at me. “I’ll talk to you later, brother. Congratulations.”

Legend lifts his chin at both of us before tugging his hood back over his wild hair. “You’ll see. Both of you. Just wait.”

He continues down the sidewalk, his stride long and rangy, and his posture forbidding enough that no one would dare try to jump him. I don’t know his story, but I have a feeling it’s a dark and gritty one.

Pushing any more thoughts of Gabriel Legend out of my mind, I slide into the back of the Bentley and wrap my arm around Memphis.

She curls into my side. “Who was that?”

“No one important. The real question is . . . how long do you think it’ll take you to find a dress?” I press a kiss to the crown of her head.

She turns her face to look up at me. “Are we really doing this? Like, soon?”

“As soon as you’re ready, baby. Just say the word.”

A grin spreads over her face. “This is New York. I can be packed and ready to go in forty-eight hours.”

I cup her cheek with my hand. “Perfect. Then let’s go make you Mrs. Freeman.”





Memphis