by Lori Foster
“The Nelson boys won’t be out of prison any time soon. You now have the ATF, Kentucky State Police, and two bordering sheriffs’ departments working with the state and local police.” Logan downed his drink. “Police corruption... I fucking hate it.”
Denver got that. Thankfully, Reese and Logan had always been honorable men.
“You should know,” Logan said, “they also found evidence to tie Carver, Gene and Mitty to a few murders.”
“No shit?” Not that he was surprised. Every single day for the rest of his life he’d be thankful that Cherry hadn’t given up on him.
Again Logan went quiet. “What you did to them...”
Denver raised a brow, waiting. He didn’t regret mangling the bastards. Far as he was concerned, they got off light.
Logan hesitated, looked across the dance floor to his wife, Pepper, and shook his head. “I’d have done the same.”
Denver held out his left hand. “I appreciate the update.”
“Anytime.”
“I think I’ll go collect Cherry, now. I’m ready to call it a night.” More than ready to have her all to himself again.
He stole her away from Miles, who had just stolen her from Brand.
The life of the party—and the love of his life.
Her makeup now smudged and her hair completely loose, she smiled up at him. “It was a beautiful wedding.”
In the middle of the dance floor, he kissed her. “You’re beautiful.”
“I love you.”
“I love you more.” He had to constantly up the ante on her because he had a feeling she’d never let him forget how he’d dragged his feet over idiotic assumptions and mistaken perceptions.
He carried her shoes for her as they headed out. Stack and Vanity were nowhere to be found, but Armie remained in the middle of the dance floor with Merissa. Other women tried to cut in, but both he and Merissa ignored them.
Denver was grinning when they stepped outside and got hit with a surprise mob. Apparently word of Cannon’s wedding had gotten out and not only a few reporters hung out, but fans also. He groaned as three reporters started toward him.
Cherry started to fade back, but he didn’t let her. “Not tonight,” he whispered.
The first few questions were about Cannon, but Denver dodged them.
Cannon’s business was his own.
After that, reporters and fans alike threw out casual queries about his training, his opponent and his odds.
Denver took the time to answer, letting them know his opponent was good, his injury wasn’t serious and that he was in the best shape of his life.
“So you think you’ll win?” someone asked.
He stepped Cherry forward so that he could hug her from behind. “This is my future wife.”
The men cheered and the women groaned.
Blushing, Cherry wiggled her fingers at the different camera phones flashing. “I’m his biggest fan,” she announced.
So damn happy, Denver scooped her close, kissed her silly, and told the crowd what he already knew. “I’m a winner, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with how I do at the next fight.”
Cherry gave him an “aww” look and hugged him tight.
He headed to the car, but for the sake of the fans, Denver looked back. “But yeah, I’ll beat Packer. Look for a knockout in the second round.”
And right after that, he’d be marrying Cherry.
She’d gone through hell and come out swinging. And now she was all his.
“I’m so glad I didn’t give up on you.”
He laughed. No, she’d never let him live it down.
She was cute, sexy and voluptuous while still trim, adorably forgiving and wildly carnal. A survivor. A fighter.
Perfect for him.
He looked forward to her teasing for the rest of his life.
* * * * *
Look for Stack’s book,
TOUGH LOVE,
coming soon from Lori Foster
and HQN Books!
Meanwhile, read on
for a special Cannon Colter bonus scene.
THE WEDDING
A Cannon Colter Bonus Scene
CANNON STOOD BACK, away from everyone else...just to take it all in. He’d already removed his tux jacket and tie and opened the top buttons of his dress shirt. Music played, the lights were low, people crowded the dance floor.
People who were a part of his life. Some for a long time, some more recent additions. All important to him. All there to celebrate with him.
He was now a married man. Yvette was his—forever. As he watched her dance with Armie, satisfaction kept a smile on his face. But what he felt was so much more than that.
It was love so strong that it made him stronger.
She excited and comforted him, challenged and encouraged him, made him feel powerful and left him weak.
What he felt for her was so rich that he knew no matter what the future brought, all he ever really needed to be happy was her at his side.
Well, and maybe a few kids at some point. Little girls with her smile and generous heart. Boys they’d raise to be good men.
Yeah, he’d like that a lot.
Busy as he stayed with his career, he and Yvette could still make parenthood work. They both loved the sport, and with so many other fighters as close friends, any kids they had would have a wealth of “uncles” looking out for them.
Thinking about pseudo uncles sent his gaze toward Armie. The best man had shown up in the requisite tux—and sporting a black eye. Damned if he hadn’t grinned more than Cannon throughout the ceremony. Now that the vows were over and the partying well underway, Armie had already danced with nearly every woman in the place.
Everyone except Cannon’s little sister, and that took his attention to Rissy. She looked beautiful in the bridesmaid dress, a fluffy, girly design his sister had never favored. Seeing her so dolled up made every guy in the place give her a second look—except Armie.
Little by little, Cannon realized that his best friend deliberately avoided Merissa whenever he could. And whenever he couldn’t, there was so much naked emotion on his face that it left Cannon more than curious.
Merissa was his sister.
Armie was like a brother to him.
Maybe that’s why he hadn’t seen it before now. For him, they were both family. Apparently for them, the feelings were less...domestic.
For sure, Armie loved her. Cannon knew without a doubt that Armie would die to protect her. But more than that? More than dedication to a family member? Yeah, he did believe it was more.
A lot more.
The others knew. He remembered the jokes that he hadn’t gotten, the different ways that both Stack and Denver had ribbed Armie.
He’d been blind, but no more. From here on out, he’d be vigilant where it concerned his sister.
And where it concerned Armie.
He really didn’t want either of them hurt.
Just then, Cherry danced past his line of vision with Miles. They laughed together. Cherry had removed her shoes and her upswept hair wasn’t quite so upswept anymore. Unlike Rissy, she appeared to love the frothy dress, twirling often. She filled it out, especially up top.
Cannon grinned. Used to be a time Denver would have scowled over her dancing with another fighter, but now, when he glanced at his friend, he saw that Denver’s gaze blazed with an excess of emotions. No jealousy, just possessiveness, satisfaction—and love. It seemed the two of them had worked out the issues in their relationship. Cannon expected another wedding to be happening soon.
Next to Denver, Stack stared at Vanity so intently, it could have intimidated most people. But Vanity appeared to be having too much fun to let anyone spoil it for her. Unlike the others, she looked as perfect now as she had while being Yvette’s maid of honor. Cannon liked her a lot, appreciated her friendship with his wife and was male enough to know Vanity was beyond just pretty. Well beyond.
Stack would have his work cut out
for him with that one.
When Armie brought Yvette back, she announced it was time for her to throw the bouquet. It was nice, seeing her so relaxed and so happy. She’d rocked the traditional white dress, and she’d cried a little while reciting her vows. But beyond that, she didn’t stand on formality. She wanted his friends and family to have a good time, period, which meant they’d done some things out of order.
No one seemed to notice or care.
As the men gathered toward the bar and the women crowded the floor, Cannon kissed her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. So much.”
“You’re beautiful,” he told her. The requisite white dress, paired with her glossy dark hair and vivid green eyes, made her look almost ethereal. For the special day, she’d worn her long hair partially free, but with curling tresses pulled up and anchored with dainty flowers that also held her veil. Happiness, and a little more makeup than usual, made her eyes sparkle. “So beautiful,” he said again, brushing his thumb over her warm cheek. “Inside and out.”
Modest as always, she smiled, then lifted the bouquet. “Feel like taking bets on who gets it?”
Cannon swept another gaze over his friends. Armie avoided looking at him. Denver stared only at Cherry. And Stack looked ready to steal Vanity away. With a nod of his head, he indicated the other fighters. “No, but it’ll be interesting to see how they react.”
Yvette laughed, posed dramatically as she prepared to let the flowers fly, then sent them backward over her shoulder, her aim true as they sailed toward her best friend, Vanity.
Stack disappointed him by not changing expressions.
But Vanity, with a grin, dodged to the side at the last second and the bouquet hit Cherry in the cleavage. She barely held on to it in her surprise.
Everyone screamed and cheered, including Vanity and Merissa.
Cannon scooped his wife close. “Can we go now?”
She touched his face. “In a hurry?”
“Yes.” He nuzzled her neck. “I want to show my wife how exciting marriage is going to be.”
Yvette pretended to faint, but said with a laugh, “I never had a doubt.”
Not true. She’d had so many doubts that she’d put him through the fight of his life. It had taken a while, but finally she was happy. He’d do what he could to ensure she stayed that way.
Waving for his sister to join him, he whispered to Yvette, “Give me just one second.”
She studied him, glanced at Merissa, and smiled. “What are you up to?”
“Just laying some groundwork for the other people I love.”
Wearing an “aww” face, Yvette said, “You are such a wonderful man. It’s no wonder they call you Saint.” She hugged him tight. “And it’s definitely the reason I call you mine.”
With Yvette as his wife, he couldn’t imagine being more content. One way or another, he wanted everyone else to feel the same. It might lead to a few more conflicts—but for a bunch of fighters who knew how to win, he didn’t see that as a problem.
In fact, with another glance at Denver, Stack and Armie, he thought it just might turn out to be fun.
Keep reading for an excerpt from NO LIMITS by Lori Foster.
“A red-hot page-turner.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Kresley Cole on When You Dare
If you loved Holding Strong, be sure to catch these other pulse-pounding titles by New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster:
No Limits
Hard Knocks (novella)
Dash of Peril
Getting Rowdy
Bare It All
Run the Risk
Back to Buckhorn (novella)
Trace of Fever
Savor the Danger
A Perfect Storm
What Chris Wants (novella)
These, and other Lori Foster titles, are now available in ebook format. Be sure to download all of them today!
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CHAPTER ONE
COILED TIGHT WITH TENSION, Cannon sat in the leather chair and faced the lawyer’s desk with loaded impatience. From head to toe, his battered body ached, but at present his mind focused on less-physical issues. After finally landing back in the States, he’d planned to spend the day in the hot tub, and the night in bed—with enough female company to help him forget how close he’d come to losing his last fight.
Three days ago he’d taken on the biggest challenge of his career, his most publicized bout on the main card for the Supreme Battle Championship—in Japan with a packed house and a lot of expectation from the organization.
Though he’d taken plenty of hits himself, he’d been beating his opponent on points...and then he’d fucked up.
After catching a kick to the liver, he’d lost his air, bent double in excruciating pain, and was going down. Only pure instinct had helped him throw one last punch when his opponent had charged in for the kill.
That punch had landed dead center on the Pit Bull’s glass jaw. Lights out.
He’d struggled to stand upright while the other man came back around, and the fight had ended with him as the winner. But damn, it had been close, and being the winner didn’t negate the hits and kicks he’d absorbed. He needed some R & R.
However, all his plans for taking it easy had gone awry when he’d gotten summoned back to Warfield, Ohio. It was a three-hour drive, and usually when he made the trip, he visited friends first thing.
This time, though, he waited around as a stuffy lawyer flipped through paperwork and a female assistant gave him the eye.
“Ah, here we are,” the lawyer said, rattling his damn papers and looking at Cannon over the top of his reading glasses. “I’m sorry for the delay. Since I had expected you yesterday, you’ve taken me off guard.”
The rebuke was wasted on Cannon. “Like I said, I was out of the country.” Shifting, he tried not to flinch from his many aches.
“Japan, yes?”
Unwilling to encourage more chitchat, he gave a single nod.
Again sorting papers, the lawyer said, “You’re a fighter? Isn’t that right?”
“Yes.”
“The SBC?”
“Yeah.” Hell, he had the fight club logo on his T-shirt. He sat forward, his forearms on his thighs. He had no idea what this was about, but he wanted to get to it. “Look, how much longer is this going to take?”
Frank Whitaker divided papers into three stacks. “I only need a moment to get organized.”
Organized with what? Cannon knew this had something to do with Tipton Sweeny, a local pawnshop owner who’d recently passed away. “If I hadn’t been out of the country, I would have attended the funeral.” And maybe seen Yvette, Tipton’s granddaughter.
Just thinking about her stoked up his tension.
Without looking away from his papers, the fifty-something, overweight lawyer said, “I’m sure everyone understands.”
Cannon had only known Tipton as a local business owner, a staple in the community he loved. His granddaughter, Yvette, attended school with Cannon’s sister. That was where any real relationship ended.
Except that Yvette had always flirted with him, he’d always avoided her...right up until the day he’d kissed her, the day he’d wanted to go on kissing her and more—after helping to rescue her from perverted thugs.
Shit, shit, shit.
He didn’t want to think about that, about her. So much time had passed, and still she had the ability to blow his composure.
How was she? Still in California apparently, or she’d be the one here dealing with...whatever had to be dealt with. “Didn’t Tipton have other relatives?”
“Yes, I’m sure he did.”
So ho
w the hell was Cannon involved?
Cannon watched the assistant glide in, leading with her big breasts. A wave of perfume drifted with her. She handed more documents to the disorganized suit and then, smiling at Cannon, moved close enough to brush her thigh against his. Smiling down at him, she touched his knee. “Would you like a cola? Coffee?”
Trying not to be too obvious, he moved out of her reach. With women, he always stayed cool.
Except for that time with Yvette.
“Water would be nice. Thanks.”
“Of course.” She shifted her hand to his shoulder, stroked, felt his muscle beneath the soft cotton of his faded T-shirt and then trailed off. “I’ll get it right now.”
Being a guy, and therefore not immune to a come-on, Cannon looked her over more closely as she left. She had one of those supercurvy figures that got enhanced with a cinched suit, skirt and soft blouse. High-heeled pumps showed off her sexy calves. Big breasts, full hips, twisted-up pale blond hair. She wore her sexuality out there, almost bludgeoning him with her interest, her sly looks and the occasional lick of her shiny red lips.
Women hit on him, no big deal. But never in a lawyer’s office under these circumstances.
Was she doing the lawyer? Were her blatant come-ons to make Whitaker jealous? Cannon eyed the older man, wondering if he’d even noticed the dozen different ways his assistant had already made her interest known.
Not that he was cynical or anything. And not that he was biting.
At least...he didn’t think he was. Still, when she came back in and leaned down farther than necessary to hand him the glass of ice water and napkin, Cannon went ahead and checked out her cleavage. Her skin looked soft, but that overpowering perfume assaulted his nostrils until he looked away.
The lawyer stacked his papers and took off his glasses. “Thank you, Mindi. I’ll let you know if we need anything else.”
Accepting the abrupt dismissal, she nodded. “I’ll be at my desk.” Behind the lawyer, Mindi paused in the doorway, made a show of looking Cannon over from shoulders to knees, her sultry gaze lingering on his crotch. She gave another slow lick of her lips and...yeah, okay, he was maybe a little interested.
