Uncaged Love: Volume 6 (Uncaged Love #6) Read Online Free PDF Page A

to ruin my pretty face for your wedding pictures.” He steps closer to me and punches the air around my chair.
    I shake my head. I think I adore this kid. He might look grown, but inside, I can see he’s still young.
    I hardly know him, but I see so much of myself in him. It’s obvious we have the same wild, impulsive mother.
    I wonder how much he knows about his dad. The one time my mother and I talked about it, she said she had to give Hudson to her family to escape the “monster.” I have a feeling he’s not a nice guy.
    I was lucky. I knew my father for eight amazing years. I push it from my thoughts, though, or I’ll get bogged down in regret that he won’t be here to see me get married. I feel like my life has just now gotten back on track after a decade of being a disaster.
    Hudson grabs my arm and pulls me from the chair. “Let me show you how to get to the gym, then we can jump in my car and go see Mom. She’s dying to show you the wedding decorations and all that rubbish.”
    He pauses. “I tried to tell her I didn’t think you cared about flowers, but she has these fancy ideas about daughters.” He laughs. “I think you’re more like me.” He air punches me again.
    “You know me already,” I say. We head out to the porch, and I fumble with the key ring that was left for me in the mailbox.
    Then we’re running, across the crumbly asphalt street, through the mix of trees and undergrowth, and behind the gym I knew so well when Colt and I trained there.
    Walking around to the front is like a step back in time. I can see Colt on the wood planks, the pain all over his face as we left his rehabilitation workouts.
    I had already given up my hurricane by then. But looking at the front door, where we stood in a line for pictures for the press, insisting we would make our comeback, I know something.
    I have to try. I have to see if it’s still there.

Chapter Six

    The trainers at the gym are kinder than Killjoy but just as tough. I’ve been put through brutal rounds of lunges, kettlebell squats, and speed drills when Akoni comes up and holds out a set of sparring pads.
    “I’m not sure I’m up for sparring,” I say. “I’ve been training girls instead of fighting.”
    Akoni looks at me squarely. His long sleek hair is tied back. He’s one of the few people I’ve met who is native to Hawaii. “I think you need to take these.” He lifts the pads closer to me.
    “Who asked you to do this? Colt or The Cure?” If it was The Cure, I’ll toss them. But if it was Colt…
    “Your brother,” he says, cocking his head toward where Hudson is hitting a speed bag. “You inspire him.”
    I shove the helmet on my head and strap on shin guards. “All right,” I say. “Who’s going in with me?”
    “I am,” Akoni says. One of his assistants tosses him a pair of gloves.
    My belly flips as I climb the stairs to the practice cage. I’ve never sparred with anyone here. When Colt and I were here, I just worked out.
    My palms sweat inside my gloves. I don’t like having something to prove. I’m not ready. But the moment to test my hurricane has already arrived.
    Hudson walks away from the speed bag and watches me bounce in place on the cage floor.
    “Focus and discipline,” Akoni says. “Predict my moves. Protect yourself and watch for openings to attack.”
    Standard stuff. I tune it out, my attention on his stance, his position.
    When he comes at me with a side kick, I spin out and go for a jab. I miss by a mile. I shake it off and stay low and loose. I think he must expect me to attack. He’s not a lot taller than me, nothing like Colt, but he’s solid muscle. I can’t sweep him or bring him down.
    I duck in with a quick three-jab strike and move out. He takes the hits, not letting down his guard. I’m breathing heavier than I like. I can’t bring it down. I need to find that singular point of concentration.
    I want the hurricane. I want to impress him. I want everyone to set aside the idea