by Violet Duke
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright © 2014 Violet Duke
OTHER TITLES BY THE AUTHOR
DEDICATION
BOOK DESCRIPTION
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
UPCOMING BOOKS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Excerpt from Jessie Evans
Love, Tussles, and Takedowns
A CACTUS CREEK NOVEL
BY
VIOLET DUKE
COPYRIGHT © 2014 VIOLET DUKE
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, this book and any portion thereof may not be reproduced, scanned, transferred, or distributed in any print or electronic form without the express written permission of the author. Participation in any aspect of piracy of copyrighted materials, inclusive of the obtainment of this book through non-retail or other unauthorized means, is in actionable violation of the author’s rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, media, brands, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and registered trademark owners of all branded names referenced without TM, SM, or (R) symbols due to formatting constraints, and is not claiming ownership of or collaboration with said trademark brands. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.
Copyedits and Proofreading by Dickinson Copy Editing and the Eagle Eye Team
Ebook ISBN: 1941198929
Ebook ISBN-13: 978-1-941198-92-6
Excerpt from Leather and Lace © 2014 Jessie Evans
OTHER TITLES BY THE AUTHOR
NICE GIRL TO LOVE Series
Resisting the Bad Boy
Falling for the Good Guy
Choosing the Right Man
Finding the Right Girl
Serial Trilogy Boxed Set: Nice Girl to Love
CACTUS CREEK Series
A Little Combustible Chemistry [Series Prequel]
Love, Chocolate, and Beer [Luke & Dani]
Love, Tussles, and Takedowns [Hudson & Lia]
Love, Exes, and Ohs [Isaac & Xoey]
Love, Sidelines, and Endzones [Grady & Sienna]
A Little Holiday Meddling [Noah & Katelyn]
DEDICATION
To my editors, proofreaders, long-time-fan critiquers, author beta readers, last-line-of-defense eagle-eye sweepers, and every valued member of my “Shelf Team”…thank you. Thank you for keeping me sane and smiling throughout the rollercoaster ride that is writing and publishing. For me, with each successive book, that incredible rush I get the entire ride never changes. In fact, I think it gets even more exhilarating.
From every eye-popping, what-the-heck-was-I-thinking climb up that track, to every holy-crap, gravity-defying drop that repositions our hearts…through every loop de loop, every topsy-turvy twist, and every rattle-our-brains sideways spin, knowing that you all are on this ride with me gives me that little extra ‘something’ that lets me let go of the handlebars and just fly.
To me, writing is definitely a team sport and as far as I’m concerned, each and every one of you deserve MVP awards. Not just for helping me make every book everything it can be, but for making the experience throughout so darn fun. It’s no wonder that every time the ride comes to an end, I find it impossible not to say, “Can we do it again?”
BOOK DESCRIPTION
He’s a better fighter
A fighter to the core, Hudson Reyes has collected enough battle scars now to last several lifetimes. But after his combat injuries retire him from the life he wasn’t ready to give up, Hudson finds himself spending the carbon copy days of his new career as a Hollywood fight scene and weapons specialist just doing what he knows best: surviving. Until he meets her. The one woman who makes him want to live again. With wounds as deep as his own, she’s a scrappy little thing--an angel-faced paradox that comes as a package deal with an offbeat town of admirably protective, but downright nosy folks.
And a wicked roundhouse kick that’s become intimately familiar with his head.
...but she has all the weapons.
An antique arms authenticator by day and a self-defense instructor by night, Liana Lin has made a living turning the unthinkable demons of her past into the passions that fuel, and fill, her life. So when the unjustly handsome man she’s been unable to stop thinking about literally takes her to the mat with martial arts styles unlike anything she’s ever seen--pinning her with a molten hot stare that melts her like a marshmallow trapped between a graham cracker and a chocolate square--Lia flips into no-holds-barred fight mode. Because if one man could find a way to disarm her carefully-built defenses, it’d be him.
Now if only they could stop sparring long enough to find out...
CHAPTER ONE
UNBELIEVABLE.
Hudson Reyes stopped talking to his buddy Pete midsentence when he saw the poised, lithe Asian woman over at the main exhibit hall glide forward to receive the warm round of applause greeting her arrival. Even amidst the crowded audience gathering all around, her quietly captivating smile and feline grace were hard to miss.
It was her.
The nameless woman who’d been raiding his nightly dreams for over two weeks now.
Crazy, really, seeing as how he’d only seen her from afar for maybe an hour tops at his buddy Luke’s wedding in March.
“I’m a friend of Dani’s—I’m the bouncer at her brewpub,” he’d overheard her say to the wedding guests who’d asked how she knew the bride and groom that night. Hudson had just gotten through giving his congrats so he could make an early departure when the woman’s words had stopped him in his tracks.
“‘Bouncer’ meaning I basically handle security, take care of brawls, that sort of thing. Usually just for concerts and game nights…no, seriously.”
He’d almost laughed out loud over the befuddled shock of the elderly couple’s reply. And he’d almost turned around right then to meet her.
Almost.
But he didn’t.
The universe’s response today to his restraint that night was ironic at best.
Still. This time, he found it infinitely harder to just walk away again.
God, she was pretty.
And she was doing that thing again, too. Just as she’d done that night. Looking around at her surroundings in that wary, watchful way that had drawn his attention to her in the first place. And he was once again hit with an inescapable fascination over her, blindsided by an instant need to know why she studied her environment the way she did.
The same way he did.
As the seconds ticked away, he observed her gaze slide back and forth over the growing crowd with the ease of a seasoned public speaker, and for some bizarre reason, with each sweep she did of the room, he noticed her earrings—simple swinging slivers of silver that caught the light whenever she moved. Why on earth he noticed them, he had no idea. With his own wardrobe consisting entirely of the spring, summer, fall, and winter line of the Army’s camouflage collection that was all the rage during his many repeat deployments over the past decade and a half, he was the furthest thing from a metrosexual who noticed fashion details.
&nb
sp; But this detail he took note of. For one very simple, unevolved reason.
It was sexy as hell.
Here she was, the sole female member of the group of antique arms collectors featured today and while every other part of her outfit was all business-casual—much like the attire of her more quintessential firearm-toting colleagues—her earrings were a tiny, covert statement that spoke private volumes about the woman under the skirt suit. And for him, they managed to straddle her on that paradoxical line between unattainably beautiful and just plain adorable.
It made no sense whatsoever.
But logical or not, every glittering wink of silver kept snagging his focus, hypnotizing him like a swinging golden watch. So much so that the next prismatic shimmer almost caused him to miss the way her eyes caught and narrowed on the tall man in his early forties standing near the entrance. The same man Hudson had made a mental note of earlier as well.
A possible threat.
There was something in the agitated way the man held himself, the latent aggression in his expression that had pinged Hudson’s potential-dangerous-persons radar at first glance.
Discovering that his mystery woman operated off a similar radar was a revelation.
She was getting more and more fascinating by the minute.
Just as he’d made a point to do a quick sweep of the other audience members for anymore radar pings, the woman did three more room-spanning camera-shutter blinks. Then she was walking into the doors of the Phoenix Convention Center grand ballroom with the other presenters, the eager audience filing in right behind them for what was clearly a big deal for this year’s antique gun show.
Having never actually been to an antique gun show before, Hudson was surprised to see the varied exhibit rooms set up more like an art gallery opening while the rest of the large space looked like a prototypical trade show with collectors and vendors packed in like sardines.
Even more surprising than the museum-quality display cases his mystery woman was walking toward was the presence of the two Spencer’s Antique Arms workers who were clearly doubling as guards. Interesting. Though his brief stateside visits back to Arizona over the last decade had been few and far between, even he knew of the Spencer’s massive full-service shop.
They were the best when it came to rare and premiere antique arms, handling everything from exclusive auctions to authentication, restoration, and fabrication. In fact, his current boss in L.A. subcontracted work to Spencer’s for the antique rifles they couldn’t replicate themselves for the historical documentary films they consulted on.
That innocent little reminder of his present employment was a jarring bungee cord snap bringing Hudson back to his present surroundings with a jolt—the complimentary cup of coffee he’d picked up from the refreshment table was now cold; and Pete, his former mentor-of-sorts during his Ranger days whom he’d come here specifically to catch up with was now nowhere to be seen. Not that he blamed the guy for ditching him. Hudson’s mystery woman had stolen his attention from Pete mid-conversation nearly—he checked his watch—shit, ten minutes ago. Dumping the stale coffee in the trash, he went off in search of Pete’s vendor booth.
He wasn’t going to hear the end of this one.
The big-ass company banner advertising ‘high-end custom weapons cabinets’ was easy enough to spot a few rows down, as was Pete’s salesman-of-the-year smile, which looked to be smack-dab in the middle of a sales pitch.
A good pitch, apparently, if the two additional customers hanging on his every word was any indication.
When the kindly old gentleman in the white Stetson started enthusiastically flipping through one of the premium catalogs on display, Pete took that opportunity to look over and give Hudson a brow-raised chin-jut that none-too-quietly called out, ‘welcome-back-to-reality, princess.’
Hudson chuckled. Pete had always been like the big brother he never wanted. After a brief nod back, Hudson automatically began a close-fisted halfway hand motion that he belatedly halted midair.
Much to Pete’s amusement.
Right.
Hudson could use actual words now to explain he’d be back in a bit after looking around.
But before he could, Pete’s immediately pouncing response—the exaggerated, but of course army-accurate, tactical hand signals directed back at Hudson with a hyena-grin—had all three of Pete’s customers curiously looking Hudson’s way.
The jackass.
Hudson responded with a one-fingered hand signal of his own as he turned and made his way to the grand ballroom, Pete’s boisterous chortles trailing behind him.
As he passed exhibit after exhibit, it didn’t take long for him to get the appeal of it all. Honestly, he’d never expected a room full of antique firearms to be, well, interesting. But they were. Each historic, each uniquely personal. All strangely moving. Definitely a different glimpse into the world of weapons he only knew as a modern day soldier.
When his perusal around the exhibits finally brought him around to the vicinity of his gorgeous little bouncer’s display, his feet took him closer without conscious thought.
The warm glow that lit her face drew him, and seemingly everyone else in viewing radius, right in. She was confident and passionate, and tickled pink. Captivating them all as she animatedly told them how she’d brought a few rare showcase pieces as an impromptu show-and-tell before her scheduled presentation.
Circling around, he’d expected to see her carrying a musket, maybe an old war pistol.
He never expected her to come out with an antique first generation Type One AK-47, a rarity that Hudson had never actually seen before.
The way she then began talking about the ancestor of the assault rifle that had been like his fifth limb throughout his entire Army career showed she understood weapons—and wars for that matter—at a deeper level than most anyone he’d ever met.
Hell, if she’d been on one of his former Special Forces ops teams, he had no doubt she would’ve been his most dangerously valuable double-edged sword—kicking a whole lot of ass while no doubt distracting him to within an inch of his life on every mission. Pity her gender would’ve shot down any chance of her recruitment; he’d bet his last retirement dollar she was fully capable of sneaking past even the toughest defenses.
Lord knew she was already getting past his.
Unable to stop himself now, he steadied his gaze on her in a way that went against both his training and his better judgment…neither of which seemed to be present at the moment. Then expecting it for reasons he couldn’t fully explain, even at twenty paces away, Hudson knew the exact moment his continued, deliberate stare permeated her senses.
It was barely noticeable.
Had he not been watching for it, he wouldn’t have seen her entire body skid to a brief, wary standstill, mid-smile. In actuality, she recovered so quickly there was barely any hiccup in her movements at all.
Impressive.
Having spent nearly half his life as a soldier, and the better part of the last decade encountering adept female combatants—scrappy refuse-to-be-victims and ruthless enemies alike—you’d think his coming across one so stunning wouldn’t knock him on his ass quite so hard. But this one did. The subtle changes in her stance, her limbs, and her gaze were all the telltale signs of someone well-versed in martial arts. Not a soldier, but a fighter nonetheless. A good one. The kind self-trained to know when they were being watched, skilled enough to be ready, and patient enough to wait for the fight to come to them.
Yep, this woman was undeniably a fighter.
And right now, she was just waiting to see if the set of eyes tracking her every move belonged to a person bringing a tussle her way.
Hot damn.
Just like that, every male atom in him rushed to the forefront on alert.
Now stuck at all-systems-go, Hudson restlessly glanced down at the exhibit brochure he’d picked up outside the ballroom. Another mystery. No female presenters were listed. A quick match-up of the other presenters
in attendance with the ones pictured on the brochure and he was hit with another fascinating blow. The woman wasn’t just using Spencer’s transportation and security services. She was there in place of the owner, Jack Spencer himself.
Curiouser, and curiouser.
She wasn’t just an insider to the antique arms community, she was a rockstar. In fact, a few of her fellow collectors who’d finished their own presentations had come over specifically to chat with her before her scheduled timeslot, each showing her a familiar, easygoing respect.
With only one looking at her like he wanted her naked for his next meal.
The instant landmines of possessiveness detonating in Hudson’s gut over the asshat’s smarmy perusal of her made him do a double-take. Sure, every guy had their inner alpha dom in some shape or form but Hudson hadn’t ever exchanged growling grunts with his until now.
…Now that Mr. Slick Suit and Matching Smile was leaning over to speak into the woman’s ear. Far closer than he needed to be.
When he caught the touch of tired discomfort in her eyes, politely shielded behind an awkward laugh and a firm-but-genial headshake, Hudson barely, just barely, managed to remain where he was. His back molars grinding down to dust.
But then the asshole put his hand on the small of her back.
And the all-metal pen Hudson was holding broke clean in half.
Shit. Even without looking, he knew her eyes had snapped over in his direction; he could feel her silently daring him to meet her gaze.