Victim (Damaged Devils #16)

Chapter One

Everything had a surreal edge. It had been that way since Cannon started nonstop drinking a few months back. He squinted at his computer screen, trying to read the blurry words. This was the first time he had been in the office in weeks. Unfortunately, he had to get this report done. He couldn’t get his eyes to work properly. Since learning his job was pointless, Cannon had given up trying too hard. Money ruled the world and everything he did mattered not at all. As long as some rich white guy had the funds and connections, Cannon was just a useless puppet, which led him back to the computer screen swimming. He sipped his spiked coffee. Maybe another drink would straighten things out. He moved closer to the screen.

Since saying fuck it to his career, Cannon had recognized all the ways he had been dumb over the years. Why had he worked so hard? He should have been riding out this gravy train paycheck all along. His recent case was surveilling a known drug house. Cannon was supposed to be sitting outside each day. However, he had discovered he could set up a camera, record the place, and then quickly fast forward through the recordings each morning. That gave him just enough info to make a half-ass report. That method had bought him three weeks of lounging on his couch and drinking. He was oddly into a soap opera he had discovered. After this report was finished, Cannon planned to see if he could push it to six weeks this next time. His shows were set to record for the day, and he didn’t think anyone would notice his absence. It wasn’t like anything he did made a difference anyhow. They were all just playing at being law enforcers. Cannon might as well get to enjoy his free government money. This was the life. No responsibilities. A check kept getting deposited into his bank account. The alcohol kept flowing. Cannon got to pretend he didn’t know more than half the people under this roof were on the take. Everything worked out for everyone involved .

The phone rang on his desk. Cannon blinked at it. He didn’t think—as long as he had worked for the FBI—that phone had ever rung. Cannon hadn’t even known it worked. It rang again. Cannon lifted the receiver to his ear.

“Whitley.”

“Your ass, in my office, now!”

A dial tone buzzed in his ear. Cannon swore he heard his boss, Jake Hamilton, slamming down his handset from all the way down the hall. Cannon blew out a sigh. It looked like he didn’t have six more weeks, after all. That was too bad. He kind of enjoyed getting paid to do nothing. Plus, he really wanted to know if Amanda ended up with Scott and if he ever found out she carried Edmund’s baby. Damn. Looked like he would have to keep recording the show. He took another drink before bothering to head that way. Cannon pushed to his feet and measured each step. He was getting pretty good at pretending to be sober. Cannon had been practicing. He didn’t bother knocking when he got to Jake’s office.

Jake looked up as he entered the room. His face was set in a permanent frown. Cannon imagined he was close to sixty. Maybe older, but there were no laugh lines around his eyes. His hair was mostly gray. It was possible this job had just aged him. He stared at Cannon with angry dark brown eyes, as if he expected Cannon to know why he was there. Cannon figured he knew, but he would be damned if he admitted to anything. He wasn’t invited to sit. Cannon imagined that was part of the psychological games .

Jake broke first. “Why haven’t I gotten anything from you on the Kingston Street house? That place is responsible for putting more fentanyl-laced drugs on the street than any other place in Alabama. We need to know who their supplier is, but I don’t see any damn reports on my desk.”

Cannon shrugged. “I was just working on it.” He also felt like this was a case for the DEA, but whatever. It had landed on his lap.

“Give me the cliff notes.”

Cannon bit back a sigh. “There’s only been the same three cars in and out of there in the past few weeks. I’ve already given all the details to the local PD—without telling them why we’re on the lookout, of course—and I’ve entered it into the national database. So far, no high-level players have made an appearance.”

Jake didn’t look impressed. “That’s it? Three fucking weeks and that’s all you have. You’re supposed to be a better agent than this. We need that supplier.”

Cannon’s drunk mouth chose a sober mind. “Why? As soon as it turns out to be some rich guy with connections, I’ll be told to drop it. So why are we wasting my time and taxpayer money?”

Jake’s eye twitched. Cannon knew he had gone too far, but they both knew Jake was on the take. He was oddly curious to see how Jake would react.

“Quentin Montgomery was clean.” Jake said the words between clenched teeth .

There it was—the reason Cannon had given up. Cannon had spent months investigating Quentin and his so-called family. The guy had purchased several men from an underground program that tortured children, turning them into monsters. They were sold to the highest bidder and set loose on society. These men killed indiscriminately, yet Quentin had purchased several people from the organization. Quentin got away with it because he had the kind of money that went back so far and wide, it couldn’t be traced. That was it. Money ruled the world and Cannon had to dance to its tune.

Cannon snorted so hard, it hurt. “Quentin Montgomery is free because it suits you and we both know it. This country has turned a blind eye to literal human trafficking because it serves us to do so. These programs churn out men we can use to our advantage and keep our hands clean in the process, but our hands aren’t clean, any more than Quentin’s, and you know it. But I suppose you’re getting enough money under the table to un-know it.” As soon as the words left his lips, Cannon knew his career was over. There was no going back. Everything he felt for the past few months lingered between them now.

Jake released a tired-sounding sigh. “One week suspension. Leave your badge and gun.” He went back to working on his computer as if the matter was settled and Cannon’s opinion meant nothing. Really, it didn’t. It wasn’t like anyone would believe him about this crooked organization. If they did, it still didn’t matter. The corruption went all the way to the top. His thoughts mattered not at all.

Cannon didn’t argue. Honestly, he was more than a little surprised he wasn’t fired. It was whatever, though. His career had been over since they fired him and rehired him two months ago, just to prove how little control he had. Cannon had just been playing his part, trying to milk as much money from the government as he could before returning to civilian life. He left his gun and badge and headed for the door. Jake hadn’t said anything about his suspension being unpaid, so that was awesome. Cannon could use an unexpected week off. It gave him a chance to do one of his favorite things: stalk his ex.

Xan stared at the nondescript Camry where Cannon sat, watching his ex’s place. That was truly where the issue began. Xan ran a CIA team and worked as a liaison between former society and academy graduates who did freelance work for the government. Basically, he green lit sanctioned off the books murders the U.S. didn’t want associated with them. Ah, the land of the free. Terms and conditions applied, of course. Capitalism at its finest. Unfortunately, Cannon’s ex was engaged to one of the men Xan had on murder speed dial to do his bidding. This stalking business was ridiculous, honestly. From Xan’s research, it looked as if Cannon had been given all the time in the world to do right by Knight. Instead, he had waited until Knight fell for Royal to become this obsessed. The dumbass. Double unfortunately, Cannon had officially gone too far. Now Xan had to get involved. The country had to protect itself, after all. Who better to call than a Russian-born orphan who had gone from an assassination program to climb to one of the highest positions in the CIA. The American dream.

Xan slid from the car that had given him a ride. He thanked the agent behind the wheel and then made his way to Cannon’s driver’s side door. He was more than a little surprised Cannon didn’t see him coming. Cannon startled as Xan jerked open the door.

“What the fuck?” When Cannon realized it was him, his expression changed, turning guilty. “Oh. Hey. What are you doing here? Are you stalking too?” A nervous laugh escaped Cannon.

“Get out.”

Cannon climbed from the car. The scent of alcohol overwhelmed him. “Like, do you want to fight or something…? I’m retired Special Forces, you know. I won’t be that easy to take.”

Xan rolled his eyes. He crowded Cannon’s space, letting Cannon see his annoyance. “Get in the passenger seat.”

Cannon looked more than a little confused, but he did as instructed. Xan slid behind the wheel. He didn’t have to adjust the seat and mirrors the way he usually did. Cannon matched his six feet in height. In fact, they were built almost exactly the same.

The moment Cannon buckled his seatbelt, Xan pulled away from the curb. “I hear you’ve decided to tank your career.”

Cannon snorted. It was a bitter sound. “What career? Do you mean being a puppet for the highest bidder? That’s not a career. That’s a joke.”

Xan fought another eye roll. “Being a drunkard doesn’t suit you. Right now, it’s making you look dumb as fuck. As retired Special Forces, you should know damn well some people are better off dead. Sometimes, you have to do what’s necessary for the greater good.”

“I’m not a drunk. I’m coping.” Cannon sounded almost childish. “One of your fucking barely leashed animals is living under my friend’s roof. There’s nothing stopping him from having some sort of meltdown and hurting Knight. I need to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Xan lost the battle against another eye roll. “Knight is perfectly fine. In fact, he’s pretty fucking happy. Just because Royal is marrying Knight and Knight won’t be sucking your dick any longer, that’s not the FBI or the CIA’s fault. That’s Cannon Lee Whitley’s fault. Get the fuck over it, stop sucking your mom’s tit, and find someone else.”

“They’re getting married?”

At the quietly spoken question, Xan shot a quick glance Cannon’s way. “I thought you knew since you’ve been acting like a crazy person.”

“No. I didn’t know.” A moment of silence passed. Cannon cleared his throat. “So, where are we headed anyway? Am I being kidnapped?”

Xan shrugged. “If you want to look at it that way, yes. The bureau has decided you need some time on ice to readjust your thoughts and dry out. You’ve just recently visited your parents and you’re three months away from your birthday. You have no significant other. I imagine, since your parents are likely used to losing contact with you when you’re undercover, no one will even notice you’re missing for several months. That gives you plenty of time to reorganize your priorities.”

A soft, uncomfortably sexy chuckle rumbled from Cannon’s side of the car. “You’re not very good at this kidnapping thing. You didn’t check my pockets. I still have my phone. All I have to do is call for help.”

An evil smile stretched Xan’s lips. “Do you, though? Still have your phone, that is.”

Cannon shifted as if to dig his phone from his pocket. “What the fuck? Where’s my phone?”

Xan held up the phone he had lifted from Cannon’s pocket earlier. Drunk men were easy to rob. “This phone?” Xan rolled down the window and threw it out.

Cannon twisted in his seat. “What the fuck, dude?” Xan could feel Cannon’s enraged stare boring into him. “Fine. I’ll just get out at the next light.”

Xan laughed. He was enjoying himself more than he should. Xan intentionally slowed, so he was forced to stop at the next light. “Do it then.”

Cannon grabbed the door handle. Nothing happened. “I can shout for help.” He tried rolling down the window. Nothing happened.

Xan’s face hurt from smiling. He tapped the panel on the driver’s side door. “Child locks.”

Fury filled eyes focused on him. “I’m still retired Special Forces. I’m not as weak as you seem to think.” He moved to attack.

Xan easily caught his fist and twisted. He released Cannon before he did any real damage.

Cannon shook out his wrist.

The light turned green. Xan let his foot off the brake. “Suck it up, buttercup. This is happening. You may as well sit back and enjoy the ride.”

For a moment, no sound came from Cannon’s side of the car. He shook his wrist a couple of more times. After a second, unexpected laughter rumbled from Cannon. “You said suck it up, buttercup.” He laughed harder. “In a Russian accent.”

Xan shook his head, fighting a smile. It was too bad Cannon was such a bitter and pious asshole. He was kind of fun.