Fueled Obsession 4 Read online

  By

  Amanda Heartley

  Copyright © 2015 ▪ Amanda Heartley

  Published By: Heartley Publishing

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 Amanda Heartley

  Published By: Heartley Publishing

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  Book Description

  Jackson Fitzgerald’s dreams are finally coming true—all except one. She’s smart, beautiful and the only dream he has yet to fulfill.

  Mollie DuBois has dreams of her own, a nursing degree and a wannabe boyfriend who does everything right. However, her heart is with the bad boy—his heart is so cold, it would take a miracle to warm it. Or maybe just some random hot kisses from the woman he loves.

  Jackson knows exactly what he wants and he plans to get her and keep her—if he can quell the demons of his past.

  Find out more in the exciting, fourth installment of this panty-melting, new adult romance.

  Chapter One — Mollie

  I opened the door to Dylan’s truck, tossed my bag on the seat and climbed in. The Camry was getting a tune-up and he’d not only offered to pay for it, he’d brought me to work this morning as well. I wasn’t too sure about all his generosity since we hadn’t even had sex yet and I knew from experience he wasn’t going to wait much longer. Maybe even before I was ready.

  “Hey thanks for picking me up for lunch. I’m starved.” I looked at him and smiled, he was such a good-looking guy. His light brown hair was tousled to the side since he’d let it grow out a little and his melty-chocolate brown eyes were to die for.

  “No problem, babe. Glad to do it. How was work this morning?”

  “Okay, I guess. You know, Nellie Fitzgerald was brought in today with the DT’s. Poor woman,” I sighed. “She’s really sick and no one knows how to get a hold of Jack and tell him.”

  “Won’t the hospital people do that?”

  “Dylan, I am the hospital people,” I said. “But I just—I don’t know. I’d like to tell him myself. I mean, I know his mom and all and she’s really in a bad way.”

  Dylan looked at me with a serious expression on his face and asked, “Molls—I’m hesitant to ask this but—do you still have a thing for this guy?”

  I lied—and I hoped, convincingly. “No, not at all.” I smacked his arm playfully in an attempt to deflect his attention. I could feel his eyes on me, probably wondering if I was being honest with him or not. I let a huge grin spread across my face, “Why do you ask? You aren’t jealous are you?” I teased.

  “Of that loser? No, of course not. He’s nothing but trailer trash. Let me see if I can get his number for you.” Dylan reached onto the dash, picked up his phone and flipped through his contacts. For a moment, I thought he was going to give me Jack’s number right then and I wondered how and why he’d have it.

  “Hey, Vic! It’s Dylan. Yeah, how’s it going?” He paused a second, then continued, “You know I, uh...well, I need to get a hold of Fitz. Family emergency. His mom’s sick and in the hospital. You got his number or know his whereabouts?” Dylan grabbed my phone from my hand, typed the number into it, and handed it back to me. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Take care, and I’ll see you next week,” then he hit the end button and put his phone back up on the dash. “There you go, that’s his number. Now, call him and tell him about his mom, then we’ll get going. I’m starving.”

  I didn’t want to call Jack right in front of Dylan. That would be kind of awkward and I had no idea what I’d say, or what would happen if I did, for that matter. “Thanks, that was really cool of you, but I’ll call him later. Right now, I’m starving. Let’s go and eat.”

  “No, that can wait a few more minutes. You want to tell him about his mom, don’t you?” I looked at my phone and let out a long breath. I didn’t want to start any trouble with either one of them, but the decision was taken out of my hands when Dylan took my phone back and called the number he’d just typed in—just like that.

  “Is this Jack? Jack Fitzgerald?” he asked. I could almost hear Jack’s muffled voice over the phone. “This is Dylan. You got a minute?” Dylan shook his head and looked at me. “I told you he was trash. Freaking douche bag just hung up on me. Said he didn’t have time to talk to me. So there you go. Once a douche, always a douche.”

  “Yeah, well, probably because it was you and you two really don’t get along, do you? Thanks anyway, you tried.” I faked a smile and tried to perk up. “So, let’s eat. What’s on the menu today? How about a tossed salad and fries? I’m buying.”

  He chuckled and reached his hand over to stroke my long blonde ponytail. “Don’t be silly. I said I’d take you out for lunch, so I’m not going to let you pay. Don’t even think about it.”

  I honestly wasn’t thinking about who was going to pay for lunch—I was thinking about Jack, and now that I had his number, I’d call him myself when I got back to work—which wouldn’t be too much longer since we’d already spent at least twenty minutes just getting his details. I looked over at Dylan and sighed. How could I do this to him? I mean, he was fun, thoughtful, sexy as hell and richer than God. They were all good reasons to be with him, and Natalie loved him, too.

  But, he wasn’t Jack.

  Ever since the day, Jackson Fitzgerald made love to me in the bathtub—I couldn’t get him out of my mind. And believe me, I’d tried.

  Chapter Two — Jack

  No, not now. This was it, my time, my life and I will not let Nellie or Mollie fuck this up. And to have that dickhead Dylan call? Fucking douche bag. Once I win my spot on Redemption Road, I will fuck that cheating, girlfriend-stealing asshole up. I can’t fucking believe this. Fuck!

  I’d driven the laps with no problems, but it wasn’t the laps I was worried about—it was the time. I stared at the lighted board, and thought about the phone call. Bad timing, Nellie. The numbers flashed twice and settled. I had to beat 3:34. My heart pumped ninety miles a second and it finally dawned on me, I’d won. I’d beat the fucking clock.

  3:30 “Fuck yeah!” I screamed and pumped my fist into the air.

  Jesse met me, all excited and jumping up and down like a little kid. “Wow! That means you’re in, right?”

  I couldn’t hide my grin, but I also couldn’t stop thinking about the phone call. Mollie. “Well, almost. It’s a start.”

  “No, he’s not in yet.” Sylvia met us with a frown. “Now comes the real racing. It’s easy to win when you’re competing against no one,” she snorted a laugh. I kept my game face on—I knew what she meant. Sylvia had sent me all the details, except the one about the piss test. There were two qualifying segments—the first was the solo track and then something called a “fast five.” Only four guys would be on Redemption Road, and there were five of us competing for those spots. It didn’t take a rocket scientis
t to figure out that one of us wasn’t going to be posing for photos afterward.

  “Not a problem, Sylvia. I’ve raced before, you know.” I grinned at her, with my unlit cigarette still dangling from my lips. She stepped closer and pulled it from my mouth.

  “I hope you know what you’re talking about, Fitzgerald, because there won’t be another chance for you here if you don’t pull this one off.” She put the cigarette in her own mouth and walked away. She is one sexy lady.

  “Damn, that lady’s got it in for you, don’t she?” Jesse stroked his skimpy goatee.

  “She’s got it in for everyone, Jesse. We’d better tighten this shit up. We’ve got thirty minutes before I have to line up again. We’ll change those tires too. As long as Stockton is offering to replace them, let’s not skimp on precautions.”

  We did our checks, changed the tires then sat back to watch the other drivers pull into the massive garage. Now I had a chance to check them out—from a distance of course. Some dude had a red ’69 Ford Mustang Boss with an air scoop in the hood, and plasma xenon headlights. From the sound of the exhaust, I’d figured it still had the standard 429 block in it. No problem, my Chevy would see that off unless he’d had the engine tricked out.

  The only other car on my radar that could give me trouble was a blue 1970 Plymouth Hemi 'Cuda with twenty-inch chrome wheels and a lowered suspension. That could give me a run for my money. I knew it was armed with a dual-carburetor, 426 cubic inch Hemi. 425 horses, if I’d remembered right. I’d have to watch him.

  They had bigger pit crews, and the drivers looked more professional. Funny thing was, those dudes weren’t smiling. Here I was, trying out at Redemption Road, a place where I ought to fit right in…yet even here, I stuck out like a sore thumb. I laughed out loud. I was the wild card. The bad seed. The fucking black sheep.

  I wondered if any of those racers thought they’d already been accepted as they enjoyed the perks of making their qualifying rounds. I’m sure by being here, I’d made more than one of them nervous. Especially by the looks these clowns were giving me, but I really didn’t give a flying fuck what they thought about me. It was them, or me and I wasn’t about to let it be them.

  I came here to win.

  “All right, over here guys.” Sylvia called us all together into a small group. So much for remaining aloof. “You’re here because you can race. I’m not your mother so I’m not going to sugar coat this. This is it. Everything you’ve worked for up to now has led you to this moment. Get this right and you’ll be a part of Redemption Road. I’m legally required to tell you that only four of you will make it, and not only will you be judged on your final ranking but also on your style. This isn’t a racecar derby. No banging into anyone—you got that Bridge? Jack? If the yellow appears, get to the side of the track immediately. Everyone clear?”

  We all nodded and gave one another steely looks. We didn’t wish each other well—nobody said “Good luck.” I slid my helmet back on and Jesse opened my door for me. “Remember, you won’t hesitate when you shift. That transmission is lined up perfectly. You’ve got this.”

  I nodded and pulled out of the garage and onto the track. We had to go ten laps—I just had to do the ten, but I needed to finish in the top four. That wasn’t going to be a problem—I hoped. In the past, I’d had the chance to see the other drivers perform, but this time I didn’t have that luxury and I’d have to learn their style as I went along. That would be difficult, but not impossible. Despite what some people thought, racing was an art, a dangerous one but nevertheless an art—and I loved it. I tapped the dash with my knuckles for good luck. I was ready to leave these losers in the dust, and so was my baby. It felt so good to be back in my Camaro again.

  I looked over to my right and then to my left. I had this. The guy in the red Mustang looked at me and snarled. “Really, dude?” I chuckled as I revved the engine.

  “Racers! The Qualifying Round will now begin!” The light changed from yellow to green and we hit the track. This time, I didn’t pause. I flew out in front of the pack, taking the lead all the way. I didn’t want there to be any doubt—I wanted to be the best. I could never walk away taking fourth place, and I sure as hell wasn’t taking fifth!

  Suddenly, the guy in the red Mustang accelerated out in front of me, but I was in a close second by a few inches. We were like a pack of hungry dogs, vying for the juicy bone at the end of the race.

  The first lap flew by and we all held our paces. The Mustang was still in front, the blue Plymouth was on my tail, and the other two cars lagged behind. I shifted gears and guided the car around the track with my hands clenched to the wheel. I made the second pass without a problem when all of a sudden, the blue Plymouth tapped my bumper. “You fucking dick head!” My first instinct was to slam the bastard back, but I kept it together, opting to cuss him out instead. It didn’t do him any good–he stayed behind me, just where I wanted him. The Mustang had cut to the inside, and I could tell the kid was having a hard time handling those tight curves. Now would be my chance to take the lead—if only this dickwad on my ass would stop trying to hit me.

  “Come on!” I said to red as I passed him. He barely looked my way—he was too focused on the track. I glanced over at him again and realized, it wasn’t the track he couldn’t handle—it was his car. He was having car trouble.

  The yellow flags and lights came on. “Fucking shit!” I shouted inside my helmet and pulled to the side of the track. The Mustang pulled into the pit, but in less than two minutes, he was back on the track in the same position.

  We eased back on to the track. I tried not to look in my rear view mirror too much, but I could see that the red Mustang had now fallen behind, way behind. He’d cross the line last for sure, but I couldn’t think about that. I was in first place, and I had to hold my spot until the end!

  Once I’d completed the last lap, I screamed my head off and felt the tears in my eyes. “Yeah! Yeah! Take that, motherfuckers! Yeah!” I got out of the car with the rest of the guys, and all of us were excited to have made it—except the dude in the red car. We all stared at the board and waited for the official call. Slowly, names appeared on the board, starting with mine. Jackson Fitzgerald #1. That was all I cared about, but I was curious to see how the rankings stacked up. Finally, the last name came up. It was Colton, the dude in the red Mustang The blonde kid, he looked barely 18, maybe 19, couldn’t believe his eyes. Neither could the big dude called ‘Bridge’ who started cussing. “What the fuck is this shit? I won my spot! What the fuck is going on?”

  Nobody offered an answer, so I did. “You didn’t play by the rules, dude. She specifically told you not to bang up the other drivers. I don’t know who else you hit, but you sure as hell hit me.” The burly dude threw down his helmet and walked towards me as if he was going to take a swing. Before I knew it, Jesse stood beside me, his massive arms crossed over his chest. Obviously, my friend’s presence deterred Bridge, because he stopped in his tracks.

  “This is your fucking fault anyway, pretty boy. I had my spot booked until they let you in. What did you do, Fitzgerald? Fuck the old bitch so you can have your chance?” He grinned, showing his missing front tooth. I knew what he was doing—he was trying to push me into a fight. It was tempting, but I just clenched my fist and kept my mouth shut.

  “Good job, everyone.” Sylvia smiled at us all. “Bridge, I guess you know this means it’s the end of the line for you.”

  “Yeah, I get it.” He leered at her and then at me and said, “I’m gonna get you, punk.” then he grabbed his helmet and walked off the track.

  “Well, if you will follow me, I’ll introduce you to the board and your coaches.” Sylvia smiled at me, “Good job on making it through, Fitzgerald. I guess this old bitch knows a thing or two about racing, after all.” She winked at me and waved us on to the walkway that led to the meeting room. The guys congratulated one another and the tension melted away. We’d made it. Today was the happiest day of my life. I’d just stepped into
my future.

  Yeah, Miss Mollie, how do ya like me now?

  Chapter Three — Mollie

  I hadn’t heard back from Jack after the phone call and I’d hoped he would’ve called by now. I’d stopped in to see Nellie every day on my way out, but he was never there. I’d even asked the nurse if he’d been around, but she hadn’t seen him either. I couldn’t imagine having a family like the one they had. I’d give anything to have my mom back for one more minute, but Jack just left Nellie there, alone.

  When I finally got home, I saw a big manila envelope addressed to me in the entryway. It was my diploma. I’d walked across the stage a month ago to accept it, but it felt good to get the hard copy in the mail. I pulled it out and looked at it. Mollie Dubois was printed right in the middle. I did it. After all the crap I’d been through—my dad, Jack, Dylan…I’d finally finished school. Damn it felt good! I lay the envelope on my desk and made a mental note to have it framed. It would hang in my new office, wherever that would be. I’d made up my mind that when I eventually gained access to my mother’s legacy, I’d buy a house. It had been fun living with Natalie, but now it was time to move on with my life.

  I smiled as I thought about my mom. Her forethought would provide for me for the rest of my life—I wouldn’t have to work if I didn’t want to, but of course, I wanted to. I loved helping people and I couldn’t imagine what I’d be if I wasn’t a nurse. I’m sure some of my choices had disappointed my Dad, but I wouldn’t make a good spoiled heiress. What was the point of having money if you couldn’t help people with it? I remembered Dad used to give money to charities all the time, until Mom died, then he turned into the grouchy old scrooge he was now. Why couldn’t he be more like Dr. Hopkins? Now, there was a man who wanted to help the community.