Brash Read Online Free Page A

restraining order out on him. He couldn’tafford trouble a week before his fight. And how had she gotten his private cell number?
    Can you meet me @ 10 Ruddyfern Drive. 30 mins?
    What’s on Ruddyfern?
    My house.
    One of Cole’s eyebrows jerked up. This had to be a prank. He snorted.
    Will there be law enforcement waiting for me?
    No
    Handcuffs?
    Shit, he couldn’t help himself with that one.
    There was a second or two before she responded. Then . . .
    I can’t tell if you’re being funny or a jackass.
    How ’bout both? Just don’t wanna be arrested tonight, darlin.
    I’ve dropped the restraining order.
    Surprise roared through him. What the hell? Why would she do that? Really, was this a prank? Payback for what he’d done?
Go and ask her, dumbass
. He stared at the text. From what he’d learned about Grace Hunter, she didn’t play around. She was tough and serious and rigid—not to mention hard-core about protecting her dad from the big bad Cavanaugh brothers. He frowned.
    â€œYou still with us, little brother?” James said, yanking Cole out of his reverie.
    Whatever it was the vet wanted from him, Cole was too damn curious—not to mention opportunistic—to ignore it. He pushed back his chair and stood up. “I gotta go.”
    â€œWait—what?” Deacon sat back, arm still wrapped protectively around Mac’s shoulder. “We need to talk about this. Make a plan of action. Get things settled with the Triple C.”
    Cole didn’t answer Deac. He was making a plan of action, and if it turned out to be something of use, he’d let his brothers in on it. He eyed James. “You want the Triple C? Take my part, take Deac’s part, and there you go. Done. Bastard Boy is out on his ass.”
    â€œJesus,” James uttered. “You’re really out of your mind tonight.”
    Cole didn’t answer. Just turned and walked away. He was keyed up, wanted to know what awaited him on the other end of that text.
    â€œHey,” James called after him.
    â€œLet him go,” Deacon said. “He’s not going to be rational until the fight’s over.”
    Passing by a few rowdy tables, Cole headed for the door. He wondered if what Deacon said was true. Or if sensible thinking was completely gone from him now, leaving only reactionary asshole. Either way, Dr. Grace Hunter had just opened the door to whatever he was at this moment and he was about to walk on in.
    *   *   *
    Crouched in the bushes at the side of the house, Grace Hunter watched the small shadow creep across the lawn toward her.
Oh yeah, it’s over, buddy. This war between you and me.
    As if hearing her silent promise, the figure stopped, a bottlebrush tail shooting straight up in the air. Grace held her breath.
Don’t you dare turn around.
She had to get him this time. Make sure he didn’t cause any more trouble. Make sure he didn’t make any more babies. If only he’d be reasonable. But cats rarely were. Especially the toms. The males. Nothing could ever be simple and straightforward. One always had to connive and plot and threaten and convince.
    And even then, sometimes they don’t return your texts.
    Who are we talking about now, Grace?
she chided herself. Cats or Cole Cavanaugh? It had taken every ounce of both her pride and her good sense to text Cole Knock-Out Cavanaugh and ask him tocome by to talk with her. The guy was 190 pounds (she was guessing, of course) of gorgeous, hard-muscled, tatted-up trouble. But she knew he and his brothers weren’t going to stop looking for answers about their sister. Looking for answers in her father’s direction.
    She sighed. She’d wanted to believe he had none. But after their back-and-forth today, it seemed her father might have something locked away in his receding brain.
    The shadow, straight tail and all, turned in a slow circle, contemplating its next