Fueled Obsession 3 by Heartley Amanda

Author:Heartley, Amanda [Heartley, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Amanda Heartley Publishing
Published: 2015-01-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six — Jack

I woke up in a strange girl’s bed and whoever the hell my bed partner was, she’d slept on her stomach. I couldn’t see her face, but her hair looked like Mollie’s—long and blonde. I carefully slid her hair from her face and I knew right away, she was not Mollie DuBois. Oh, yeah, I remember. She’s the chick Victor gave me. The one that tasted like strawberry wine and cigarettes. We’d played hard last night, but now it was time to go. I felt like shit, but I needed to leave. I’d never hung around long afterward. Too many girls would get the wrong idea if I did.

If I looked shitty yesterday, I looked even shittier today. I decided to get a quick shower as quietly as I could, and get out of here. I didn’t know exactly where I was, but from the sounds I’d heard outside, I figured I was still in the Warehouse District. I showered, shampooed and left. My bedmate, Rhianna—or was it Brianna?—I couldn’t remember, but she didn’t move a muscle and I was relieved. She must have been really drunk last night—I know I was. God, I hope I’d used a condom. I pulled my jeans on and found some money in the pocket. Oh, yeah, I won at poker, too. Forgot about that. I smiled.

I stepped outside and breathed in the muggy air. It was another hot one today, then I looked at my watch. Damn, it was three o’clock already. I checked my phone, and although I’d texted my new number to Victor and a few other people, no one had bothered to call me, not even my attorney, and I didn’t want to go home. I was sure the cops would be cruising by and my neighbors hated me. If I was to blame for that drive by shooting, I’d hate to think I’d be putting more people in danger.

On a whim, I decided to go downtown. I had money now, only a few hundred bucks, but maybe a good walk would clear my head.

When I was a kid, I used to love walking down to Artist’s Row on Saturdays and, while I was no artist, I did admire their work and I always came by myself, but I didn’t mind. Strangely enough, no adult ever tried to stop me or question me about what I was doing there. I would stroll through the streets, looking at the 3D chalk drawings, the paintings on driftwood and the wild beer can sculptures. It felt good being here again, in a place where I’d had some happy moments.

My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. “Fitz, where are you at?” It was Victor’s froggy voice on the other end.

“Talking a walk, Vic. What’s up?”

“I need you to drive for me today. I’ll give you some cash for your trouble. Won’t take but a couple of hours, but you need to get over here now.”

“When you say drive, do you mean

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