Fueled Obsession 3

by Amanda Heartley

  By

  Amanda Heartley

  Copyright © 2015 Amanda Heartley

  Published By: Sexcessica

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  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 © 2014 Amanda Heartley

  Published By: Sexcessica

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  Book Description

  Mollie returns from New York to find her cushy life has taken a turn for the worse—and Jackson is locked up for a crime he didn’t commit. Has Daddy gone mad or is this just another power play?

  Jackson has bigger problems than he thinks. He’s torn between what’s right and what he knows. And if losing his chance at Stockton Racing isn’t bad enough…Dylan, his #1 rival is moving in on Mollie. Will she fall for the baby faced college grad? Or will the tattooed bad boy keep her heart?

  Find out in this exciting, panty-melting third book of Fueled Obsession.

  Chapter One — Mollie

  The flight from New York was hellacious. Natalie wasn’t speaking to me. I still seethed inside about Jack’s arrest and wondered if my father had had anything to do with it. I knew it had to be him, but attempted murder? I walked up the steps to the brick mansion, ready to go off on the first person I saw and I hoped it would be him. I grasped the door handle and took a deep breath, bracing myself for the argument that was sure to follow. After a few more deep breaths and a prayer, I tried to turn the handle but it didn’t move. I was surprised to find the door was locked—that never happened when my dad or one of the housekeepers were there. His Mercedes was in the driveway, so I knew he was home. He’d probably locked it so I couldn’t sneak in and avoid a confrontation. Pissed that he’d locked me out after I’d let him know I was on my way home, I sat my bag down and dug around inside it for my keys. I hated the size of this bag and searching for keys wasn’t an easy feat.

  “Calm down, Mollie,” I said under my breath. I’d just thrown the keys in this big-ass leather bag and now I couldn’t find them.

  Before I could retrieve them, the elegant glass and wood door swung open and a red-faced Hannah stood in the doorway.

  “Hello, Miss DuBois. Glad you made it safely, but Mr. DuBois has informed me that you aren’t welcome here anymore and you must leave.” My stomach lurched as I stood, open-mouthed, on the step and I smoothed the hair out of my eyes.

  “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll take your keys, please.” Her voice was a little higher and louder, as if I couldn’t hear what she’d said.

  “Keys? Where’s Dad?” She just glared at me as if I was some sort of well-dressed intruder, and I glared back. I pushed past her and yelled, “Dad! Come here now! I know you’re home because your car is in the driveway!” In a few seconds, his office door swung open and my jerk of a father stood in the doorway. “What’s going on, Dad? Is this some sort of bad joke? Why is this woman asking for my keys?”

  “It’s not a joke, Mollie. I told you what would happen if you continued to see Jack Fitzgerald and not only did you see him, but he spent the night in your bed. You know I am a man of my word. If you insist on whoring around with trailer trash, you can find somewhere else to live.” His voice was even, but distinct. I knew he meant business.

  I glanced toward the maid. “UGH! Thanks a lot, Hannah!” I looked back at my dad and there wasn’t a glimmer of humor in his steely eyes.

  “So you’re just going to put me out on the street like some hoodlum?” The last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of them, but fat tears welled up in my eyes. This was unreal—a fucking nightmare.

  “Mollie, I warned you. You made your choice.” He held out his hand. “Now give me your keys.”

  “What? What am I supposed to—?”

  His eyes cut right through me and I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. I couldn’t believe my dad. The man who was supposed to love me was putting me out on the street. “I said, give me your keys. House keys and car keys.”

  “You’re taking the car, too? How am I supposed to get around? How can I get to work?” I knew I sounded desperate, and I was.

  “That’s your problem, Mollie. It is time to grow up.” I spun the keys in my hand and thought about what was happening. I knew it was futile to argue with him; his mind was made up. Tears slid down my cheeks, but I didn’t say a word. I reached my hand out and gave him the keys. He took the ring and slid the keys off, then handed it back to me.

  “You should also know that you’re no longer on the checking account. However, I’m not completely heartless, even though you disobeyed me.” His hand slipped into his pocket and he pulled out an envelope. “Here’s a thousand dollars. Do what you can with that, but that’s all you’re getting from me. I’m done with you, Mollie.” He shoved the white envelope in my direction and I stared at it in disbelief.

  “I don’t want your stinking money. I don’t need your help! If you think this changes anything, think again. By the way, great parenting—I’m sure Mom would be proud of you.” I knew that would hurt and I was glad to see him flinch a little at the mention of my mother. She never would have agreed to this and I wished she were still here. I grabbed my bag, rolled my suitcase back outside, and walked down to the sidewalk. I called Natalie, surprised that my phone still worked. She answered after a few rings and sounded like she was still pissed.

  “Nat, I know you hate me right now, but my dad just kicked me out. I have nothing and nowhere to go,” I bawled.

  “Whoa, hold on! He kicked you out?”

  I cried harder into the phone, as I had no clue what to do. “Yes, and he took the car and the house keys. Nat, what am I going to do?”

  “That rotten old bastard. Stop crying and listen. Stay put. I’ll be there in ten. Don’t go back in the house, Mollie. It’s going to be all right.” She hung up and, obediently, I stood there, zombie-like, and didn’t even look back toward the house. I bet they were looking at me from the window so I wiped my face on my sleeve and stood up straight. True to her word, my friend was there in less than ten minutes. She hopped out of the car, slid her arms around me and hugged me tight.

  “It's okay, Mols. He’s an asshole and you don’t deserve this crap. Come on, let’s put your luggage in the trunk and go home. You know you can stay with me as long as you want.”

  As soon as I got in the car, I let out a long sigh. Natalie put her hand on my arm. “Calm down, you’re shaking. It’ll all work out.” She dug in the glove compartment and pulled out a box of tissues. “You know I don’t approve of what your dad is doing, but I think in the long run, it’ll be a good thing. You can make it on your own, without his money, without his car, without his help. I know you can.” She leaned across and hugged me one more time before she put on her seatbelt. “Everything happens for a reason, Mols. In the meantime, let’s go home and open a bottle of wine.”

  “”I kno
w. It’s just—well, he’s my dad and he’s supposed to love me and look after me. I’m supposed to be his little princess. And wine time sounds good to me,” I sniffled. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Nat.”

  “You’d do just fine, Mollie.”

  Natalie lived in a loft apartment above her design shop. It was about five miles from the hospital and a little more than that to the Village Clinic. I vowed to myself not be a burden to Nat. That would be totally unfair. Things were going to be okay. I didn’t know how, but I knew they would be. A few minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot behind her building and walked up the steep, wooden steps at the front entrance. Natalie’s large, gray cat, Bruno, was watching us, waiting for her.

  “Hi, there, sweet kitty. Momma’s home! Come in, but watch your step. Bruno has separation anxiety now, like I need that crap, and his favorite spot is usually wherever you’re about to step.”

  I rolled my luggage in behind her, thankful to be there. I had intended to go home and find out about Jack’s arrest, but that obviously didn’t happen. It was getting too late now to even consider going to the jail.

  “Come on in here. This will be your room, Mollie. There’s a day bed under that fabric. It’ll take some organizing, but it’ll make a nice room for you. Um, let’s see—there’s a chest of drawers here and a couple of them should be empty. Let’s go get that glass of wine and then we can figure out where to put your stuff.” Natalie smiled at me as if I wasn’t inconveniencing her at all.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I don’t want me being here to interfere with our friendship. It’s the only thing I have right now.”

  “Mollie, what choice do you have? You and I are family, even if we aren’t blood-related—you are the only sister I’ve ever had. I’m here for you whether you like it or not. Now, no more thinking about that—to be honest with you, I’m rarely at home, so we probably won’t even see one another very much anyway.”

  I followed Natalie into her small kitchen and sat at the bar. I loved the brick walls and the warm, copper touches she’d scattered throughout her home every time I came here. So different from the austere, formal surroundings I grew up in. So this is home. Wonder for how long? Natalie slid a bottle of wine out of her countertop wine rack and began working on opening it. “So he took the car and he threw you out. I don’t suppose he gave you any money?”

  “No, he took me off the checking account and warned me not to use it. He did try to hand me some cash when he was blocking the doorway, but there was no way I was taking it.”

  “That’s terrible! I suppose that’s his way of alleviating his guilt?”

  “I guess so. I did call Mr. Jernigan last week. He’s an attorney and best of all, I don’t think he’s ever liked my dad. He’s checking on the status of my trust—the money that Mom left me. Apparently, I have to wait another four months before I can get to the account, but it could take up to nine months to get everything formalized. The way it looks, I think Dad is going to drag this out as long as he can, so it probably will be closer to nine months.” I felt panic set in and gladly accepted the glass of wine Natalie offered me.

  “You should probably call that Mr. Jernigan and tell him what’s happened. There must be some kind of clause in that trust that stops him from cutting you off like that. And what happens in the meantime? Could he be cleaning out your trust fund so you won’t have anything left?”

  Natalie must have seen the shocked look on my face. Would my dad really do that to me? He’d certainly surprised me today and I had no doubt that he was capable of it, but would he really try to rob me?

  “I don’t know, Natalie. As he’s pointed out many times, he doesn’t need my mother’s money.” I took another swig of wine and emptied the glass. My dark-haired friend filled it up again without waiting for me to ask.

  “I sure as hell wouldn’t doubt it. Go ahead and call the attorney now and then we’ll take a look at that room. I bet we can get it organized in just a couple of hours and get you settled in. What about the rest of your clothing? Don’t you need your scrubs and your other stuff?”

  Trust my stylish friend to be worried about my clothes. Obviously, I wasn’t good in an emergency because I hadn’t even thought of that.

  “I hate to say this, but you need to call your dad and demand your things. Even if he doesn’t want you to come inside the house, he could at least have that bitch of a housekeeper of his pack it up for you. If you don’t call him, I will.”

  I rubbed my temples with my fingers. “I guess you’re right. Let me call the attorney first—that’ll boost my confidence before I have to deal with that jerk.” I dug in my purse again and found my phone. My battery was dying but I scrolled through the list and found Mr. Jernigan’s number. I tapped on the screen and waited for him to pick up. Nothing happened. I stared at my phone and my heart sank when I read the “NO SERVICE” message emblazoned across the top of the screen.

  Natalie stared at me with her big, dark eyes. “Well, what is it?”

  “He cut off my phone.”

  “No fucking way!”

  Hot tears flowed down my cheeks. I bawled like a baby and took a gulp of wine. “He really does hate me, doesn’t he?”

  “No, baby girl. He hates himself!”

  Chapter Two — Jack

  Sitting in a cell for the last day or so was bogus. Attempted murder? Bullshit, and they knew it. Mollie knew it and so did her hoighty-toighty father, and I wasn’t about to go down for some shit I didn’t do. It was an accident and fucking DuBois knew it. In fact, it wasn’t even an accident. I didn’t even hit the car and somehow he’s turned it into attempted murder. He just didn’t want to tarnish his little girl’s name with the likes of me. Fucking asshole.

  They’d taken my phone off me for ‘evidence’ when I arrived here, and after a few hours of sitting around twiddling my thumbs, some tall, burly-looking dude named Yance returned to inform me he wanted to question me again about what happened and for other charges he planned to tack on. That’s when I got worried. Apparently, the cops were convinced that I was the mastermind behind the illegal racing that was going on all over the county, and then he informed me they were searching my house for evidence. Nothing I could say was going to exonerate me so I kept my mouth shut. There was no way I was going to give up Victor, or anyone else involved in the weekend races.

  Finally, another detective—Townsend, I think his name was—led me back to an interrogation room and leaned against the wall. He cracked his gum while he waited for Burly. I sat at the table wearing my new silver bracelet and stared at myself in the mirror. I waved at whoever may be sitting behind the glass, watching me. I heard Townsend laugh under his breath but he didn’t say anything. Must be a rookie.

  “Ah, there you are.” As if I were lost or something.

  Burly walked in and slapped the blue Royals bag on the table. It was my old gym bag, the one I kept my cash in. Fucking shit! I guess I can kiss that money goodbye.

  “Recognize this?” Yance looked pleased as punch that he’d found my money and his round, stupid face glowed with sweat. He was a portly guy who wore too much cheap cologne, and if he had anything to do with finding my cash, I knew it couldn’t have been easy for him. I laughed as I thought of his fat ass climbing up on the dresser and moving the ceiling tile but he probably had Townsend do it anyway.

  “Of course I do. It’s mine, and that’s my money. Every dollar of it.”

  “Interesting.” Yance fondled my money, trying to do the math in his head. “So, a guy with no job, and obviously not getting cash from Mom, has over fourteen grand stuffed in the ceiling, and I’m not supposed to think that’s odd? Come on, Fitzgerald. Tell me the truth. You selling drugs out there in the Village?”

  His question caught me off guard, so much so that I laughed at him. “What? Hell, no. I worked for that money. I put it up there so my mom can’t get it. You know my mom, the one with the drinking problem, if you haven’t noticed.”


  All of a sudden, Townsend slammed his bony hand on the metal table. “We’re supposed to believe that? That an asshole like you saved that kind of money mowing yards and picking up cans?”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you believe,” I sneered.

  Now it was Yance’s turn to laugh. He waved Townsend away and the younger man went back to leaning against the wall and cracking his gum like a dime store cowboy. “You need to care about it. I’m the guy that can put your bony ass in jail for a few decades.” He rubbed his hand through his short, curly hair. “Look, I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt but you need to give me something. Who’s paying you that kind of money? Is it for racing? You that good, Fitzgerald? Do you win big money at the races?”

  I stared at him, knowing full well that anything I said to him would be used against me in a court of law. I knew the smart thing to do was lawyer up, but I wanted a little more information from these two first. “Where’s my mom? Did you guys lock her up, too?”

  “Your mother is a bit of a firecracker, isn’t she? She attacked a police officer so she’s just down the hall from you. Like mother, like son, I guess. She’s probably proud of the criminal kid she’s raised. Have you ever thought about having her committed?”

  I wasn’t about to discuss Mom with Yance or anyone else. It’s not like they would help her, even though in my younger years I’d tried my best to reach out to everyone I could. It was too late for her, and probably me, too.

  “Detective?” The door opened and a pretty, red-haired uniformed officer interrupted our chat. Yance looked at the bag and then at me before he walked out with the officer. He must have decided to leave the cash here with Townsend and me. I could tell by Townsend’s face, if he had half a chance, that cash would walk out of here when he did. I grinned at him and he looked away in disgust. Yeah, well, at least I wouldn’t have to steal it if I wanted to get my hands on that much cash, dick!