Drew Forrester is a total adrenaline junkie.
His high of choice?
Cars.
The faster, the better.
He’s been making waves in Maryland’s underground racing circuit since he crossed the state line, and after speaking with him, we know he’s not hitting the brakes anytime soon.
So what exactly does it take to burn rubber and make a name for yourself in a world where the only rule is there are no rules?
You gotta be hungry…
You gotta have balls…
And you can never back down.
What’ve we learned here at GearShark?
Drew is all of the above.
We also know he’s got some secrets buried under his hood.
Secrets we think are loaded with octane and just might set the world of cars on fire.
Check out the full feature article inside…
#JUNKIE Copyright © 2016 CAMBRIA HEBERT
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Published by: Cambria Hebert Books, LLC
http://www.cambriahebert.com
Interior design and typesetting by Sharon Kay of Amber Leaf Publishing
Cover design by MAE I DESIGN
Edited by Cassie McCown of Gathering Leaves Editing
Copyright 2016 by Cambria Hebert
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
eBook ISBN: 978-1-938857-81-2
Table of CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
“It takes courage to grow up and become
who you really are.”
E.E. Cummings
Trent
I was on my way out.
They liked to remind me of that almost daily. As if I needed a reminder. The constant ticking of the clock in the back of my head was all the reminder I needed.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
I was drunk.
I needed something to dull the sound of my life passing me by.
I needed something to shut up the whispering voice in the back of my head.
Problem was beer wasn’t working. Not tonight.
So I kept drinking. I switched the beer out for vodka. Vodka was a little more skilled in shutting up the deepest of my thoughts.
At least I fooled myself into thinking it was.
“Omega rules!” I yelled, and everyone within earshot followed suit. I was the president after all. When I did something, they did it, too.
I slammed the empty shot glass on the nearby table and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. The room spun a little, and I blinked it back into focus.
“You know whatcha need?” Jack slurred, slinging his arm around my neck and trying to pull me down so he could yell in my ear.
I laughed and leaned down, making it easier for him. He was two years younger than me, green as a new dollar bill, and far less jaded than I would ever be again.
He was also like half my size, so if I didn’t bend down, he wouldn’t be able to holler in my ear like he clearly planned to do.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A piece of grade-A ass,” he announced.
I threw back my head and laughed. The action made his arm fall free of my neck. “What makes you say that?”
Jack chugged some beer out of a dark-colored longneck and made a scoffing sound. “Because, brother,” he drawled good-naturedly.
It made my back teeth grind together because I hated when he called me brother.
I had a family, and it wasn’t him. I glanced around the packed frat house. My house.
None of these people were my family.
My house was full of people I didn’t know.
Shouldn’t a man’s house be full of his family?
“The way you’re pounding down the drinks tells me it ain’t alcohol you need. It’s ass.” Jack finished.
I grunted. He was right about the alcohol. Clearly, it wasn’t what I needed. It wasn’t doing shit for me.
“Way I see it,” Jack said, shifting his body around so we were standing side by side and staring out over the crowd. “As frat president, you have the pick of the litter.”
He spread his arm out and gestured toward everyone as if the world were my oyster.
“Pick a pair of thighs to get between,” he invited.
Yeah. Yeah, maybe a quick, no-strings-attached fuck was exactly what I needed tonight. Maybe it would chase away whatever the hell was wrong with me.
Or maybe it would make it worse.
I didn’t like that thought, so I ignored it.
I perused the women like I did AutoZone for car parts. Not every single model and style was for me. I was particular.
Wonder why…
I shook off the thought and slapped Jack on the back. “I like the way you think.”
“Just doing what I can for our superior,” he replied.
I grunted and stepped away from him. He was just kissing my ass because he had his eye on presidency and wanted me to give him the nod.
The entire frat had been after me for weeks to throw my support behind someone new for Omega prez. My time was just about up. The sooner we got a replacement, the better.
You’d think I’d be eager to toss out a name. I was eager enough to close the door to this frat.
But something held me back.
I wasn’t sure what it was, but it was something.
A group of girls across the room looked pretty promising. There was one dressed in a pair of distressed, tight jeans. They looked like a second skin and they molded to her fine, round ass with perfection.
She had enough to fill my hands.
Despite the cold temps outside, she was wearing a tank top. It was simple, black, and left little to the imagination.
There was a red SOLO cup in her hand, and her dark hair was piled on top of her head.
I usually went for blondes.
I didn’t want what I usually went for tonight.
She saw me looking and gave me the go ahead. You know that sort of half smile, sidelong stare that locked on a guy just long enough to say, I’m interested.
I started through the crowd of people dancing and stepped around the group playing some loud drinking game. She glanced back at me once as I advanced, saw I was coming, and shifte
d so her body was open to mine.
I moved forward like a predator, a lion tracking prey.
And then someone familiar appeared beside her.
The hunting instinct was shoved aside for instant recognition.
A dark-blond head bent low, and a lithe, graceful form slid between my target and her friend. I couldn’t see his face, just the top of his head as he bent in and spoke to the women he so casually wrapped his arms around.
Whatever he said was something dripping with charm, because both girls swayed toward him, and his familiar chuckle drifted across the remaining space between us.
He had a deep laugh, like it came from the farthest place inside him. Maybe that’s why whenever he laughed like that, women swooned, because they felt like they were getting a piece of him he didn’t give out very often.
The girl I’d picked out looked back up and gave me another smile.
I was partially surprised. With Drew standing right next to her, I should have been forgotten. ‘Course, he was a regular around this house. She probably knew who he was. She probably knew she’d be vying for his attention against twenty other girls in this room. Maybe she wanted the same thing I did tonight.
A sure thing.
As I walked, I plucked a newly poured shot out of one of my “brother’s” hand and tossed it down my throat. He gave me the finger, and I gave him back the empty glass.
I don’t know how many shots that made tonight. I stopped counting a long time ago.
“Dude.” Drew looked up. He pulled back one arm and offered me his fist. I bumped mine against it.
“I thought you weren’t coming tonight,” I said by way of greeting. He was supposed to be out driving.
“Not much going on at the track tonight.” He shrugged.
Even drunk, I still gave enough of a shit to be relieved. Usually, I went with Drew when he was out driving the racing circuit around here. But some nights, frat shit came first. Tonight was one of those nights.
Can’t say I liked the idea of Drew out driving alone. I’d learned a lot about the drivers around here the past few months, and not much of it was good.
If I thought fraternity rivalry or even football rivalry was bad…
It was nothing compared to the racing competition around here.
Racing wasn’t quite the institution football was. It wasn’t governed by rules and regulations. Sure, maybe on the higher level. On the NASCAR level.
But getting up to that place?
There were no rules.
It was a dog-eat-dog world, and I wasn’t talking Chihuahuas.
“I hear you’re really fast,” the blonde under his arm said, peering up at him.
He grinned lazily. He had a dimple in his cheek. You’d think the light scruff on his face from not shaving that morning would hide it. It didn’t. It only served to make it more attractive. “Only when I need to be. Sometimes I’m nice and slow.”
You’d have to be dead not to hear the suggestion in his tone, and this girl was not dead. Drunk? Yes. She giggled like she was shy.
Yeah, right. I suppressed an eye roll.
“Beer’s over there,” I told him and hitched a thumb behind me toward the kitchen.
“Where’s yours?” he asked, tearing his eyes off the girl.
“I’m drinking vodka tonight.”
“Me, too!” the dark-haired girl on my right said, showing me her red cup. I gave her a slow smile and tilted the cup toward me so I could see.
“Good taste,” I said and slid the cup into my hand and wrapped my lips around the rim. The vodka was mixed with cranberry juice, watering it down at bit, but it was still good and strong. I meant to only take a sip, but I ended up chugging the rest and tossing the empty cup over my shoulder.
Before she could say anything about her lost drink, I wrapped my hand in hers and pulled her away from her friends. “Let’s dance.”
I hardly ever danced, unless we were all at Screamerz.
But like I said, tonight I didn’t want to do what I normally did.
The brunette came along willingly, and soon, we were grinding together in the center of a crush of bodies. The music was loud, so loud I couldn’t hear myself think, so there was no way we could talk.
Even if she told me her name, I wouldn’t hear it. I didn’t care what it was anyway.
The room tilted a little, but I ignored it and pulled her closer, sliding my thigh between hers and bringing her up against my chest. Her fingers went through my belt loops and held on as we moved.
The song vibrating the walls was loud with a heavy, erratic beat. Even still, we didn’t dance like that. Instead, I held her right against me, and we grinded against each other suggestively. Her chin tipped back and she looked up at me, her eyes heavy lidded as her teeth sank into her lower lip.
I swiped my thumb along her bottom lip, then lowered my face. Her fingers tightened around my belt loops as my lips collided with hers. She tasted slightly tart, like the cranberry juice she’d had in her cup. I liked it. It mixed well with my well-liquored tongue, so I licked deeper into her mouth so the two flavors could mesh.
As we kissed, we continued to grind into each other, and small little sounds vibrated the back of her throat. I slid my hand down around her backside and grabbed a handful of her ass.
Someone knocked into us from behind, causing me to lurch forward. My arms tightened around her so she wouldn’t fall, and I knocked into someone else as I tried to right us.
“My bad,” I called to whoever I’d shoved and pulled her through the dancers and toward the back door of the house.
“I need some air,” I called, and she nodded.
Outside, the air was cold. I probably should have noticed it more considering I was only wearing a T-shirt with my jeans. But I felt hot and I was totally wasted, so the elements were the last thing on my mind.
There weren’t many people out here. Actually, there wasn’t anyone except for some guy around the side of the house puking in the bushes. I pushed the girl up against the stone on the side of the house and bent to kiss her again.
She giggled, and my stomach rolled.
I ignored the feeling and fused our mouths together and grinded my lips over hers. When I didn’t get the reaction I wanted, I ripped my mouth free and changed directions, covering her once more. She kissed and sucked at my lips, at the same time running her fingers up the front of my chest, but still…
No reaction.
I felt nothing. No need. No excitement. My cock wasn’t even stirring in my jeans.
I pushed off her abruptly, and she blinked.
“Let’s go to your room,” she purred and brushed the back of her hand along my fly.
Suddenly, the entire world turned on its side, and I rushed away, over to the grass, where I immediately fell onto my knees and started puking.
Aaannnd that would explain the lack of excitement a few minutes ago.
Beer before liquor, never been sicker.
I retched a few more times, bringing up way more alcohol than I remembered drinking, and then sank back onto my haunches and wiped my face with the hem of my T-shirt.
My head was fuzzy, my insides shaken. Then I remembered the girl. I turned around to tell her I’d be fine in a few, but she was gone.
Guess my puking hadn’t been much of a turn-on.
Not that she had been either. Hell. First time I’d ever gone from making out to vomiting in two seconds flat.
Clearly, she wasn’t my type.
I laughed out loud. That was fucking hilarious.
I was still laughing when two jean-clad legs appeared before me. “What the fuck are you doing?” Drew asked, glaring down at me like I’d lost my mind.
“I was trying to get laid. She wasn’t my type.” I started laughing again.
“What was your first clue? The barf? Or maybe the fact that she left you out here to pass out in your own mess?”
“I’m not passed out,” I protested.
He made a sou
nd. “Not yet.” Drew’s hands slid under my arms and he pulled me to my feet. I swayed like a hammock on a breezy beach, and his grip tightened. “How much did you fucking drink?”
“Don’t know,” I slurred.
“C’mon. Party’s over. We’re going home.”
“This ain’t my home,” I said, disgruntled.
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he slid an arm around my waist and started leading me around the house, not back inside. I went along without a word because honestly, I didn’t care where he was taking me.
He smelled good.
“Wait,” I groaned and practically fell over and started puking again.
Drew muttered a few curse words as I retched but stayed right there standing over me, like he was keeping watch.
When I was done and my ribs ached from the heaving, he hauled me back up and led me toward the street where his vintage ‘69 Mustang was parked.
“This ain’t my room,” I said.
“I’m not leaving you here this drunk, asshole,” Drew said and yanked open the passenger door. “Who the fuck knows what the dickheads inside would do to you while you’re out?”
I sank into the seat and leaned my head back with a groan.
The next thing I knew, we were sitting outside Drew’s place and he was pocketing the keys. I fumbled with the handle, trying to get it open.
“Hang on,” Drew said, but I didn’t listen. I managed to fling open the door and fall out onto the driveway.
“Ow,” I grumped.
“Moron,” Drew said above me, and for the third time that night, he helped me up off the ground.
“Do me a favor and don’t wake up the entire house on the way in,” he bitched.
“You sound like a damn woman,” I mocked.
My feet didn’t work too good going up the stairs, but somehow, I made it. We stumbled into Drew’s room, and he shut the door behind us. I fell onto the bed backward, flinging out both my arms and staring up at the darkened ceiling.
Drew was moving around, and I turned my head to watch him bend forward to pull off his shoes. Next, he slid the black leather jacket he’d been wearing down his arms and flung it onto his dresser.
I became mesmerized by his movements. Everything else was blurry and unfocused, but he wasn’t. I could see him clearly.
#Junkie (GearShark #1) Page 1
