Sweet Obsession (Men of Whiskey Row Book 1)

by D. A. Young

  SWEET OBSESSION

  BY

  D. A. YOUNG

  Copyright © November 2015 by D. A. Young

  Cover Art by Karen Kunz/karenlkunz@yahoo.com © September 2014 created for D. A. Young

  Editing by Little Pear Editing Services/littlepearediting@gmail.com Copyright © March 2016

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book only. EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this e-book is a crime punishable by law. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

  This book is a work of fiction and intended for mature audiences aged 18+ only. All names, characters, places, businesses and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and have been used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

  SWEET OBSESSION PLAYLIST

  EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED – TAYLOR SWIFT FT. ED SHEERAN

  LET HER GO – PASSENGER

  EASY TO LUV U –STACIE ORRICO

  FOOL OF ME – MESHELL NDGEOCELLO

  COUNTDOWN – BEYONCE

  LOVE ME LIKE YOU DO – ELLIE GOULDING

  RIPTIDE – VANCE JOY

  CHANDELIER - SIA

  SITTING ON THE DOCK OF THE BAY – OTIS REDDING

  FIRE – THE POINTER SISTERS

  COME WITH ME NOW – THE KONGOS

  I BELIEVE IN YOU & ME – WHITNEY HOUSTON

  ALL SUMMER LONG – KID ROCK

  LOSE YOURSELF -- EMINEM

  STAY WITH ME – SAM SMITH

  B* DON’T KILL MY VIBE – KENDRICK LAMAR

  INVINCIBLE – KELLY CLARKSON

  CRASH MY PARTY – LUKE BRYAN

  HELLO – BEYONCE

  Author’s Notes

  “Writing to me is simply thinking through my fingers.” – Isaac Assimov

  I never knew what I wanted to be growing up and at times felt lost and frustrated. I just knew I had a very big imagination but no outlet for it. That if I saw or thought of something, I could spin a story out of it, and enjoy the tale no matter how odd it might seem to others. It wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I sat down and finally started writing. Out came all the stories and characters that had been impatiently partying in my head, waiting for me to realize that writing was my true calling.

  This book is dedicated to anyone who ever did or does struggle to discover their passion and to everyone who believed in me, especially the friends and family members who let me know that reading was not their thing, but they enjoyed what I did share with them.

  To Karen Kunz and Patrice Harrison words can’t express how much I appreciate you ladies and all that you do. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

  I hope you enjoy my first book as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’d love to hear your thoughts and opinions. Please email me at day_one2015@outlook.com

  Jack and Noelle’s story is the first of the Whiskey Row Series. I hope you enjoy the characters you meet along the way, as they all have a story to tell.

  Sincerely,

  D. A. Young

  Interested in what I’m doing next? Follow me on Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/D-A-Young-1695356880704195/

  Prologue

  1992

  Whiskey Row, Tennessee

  The turnout for the funeral service atop a high hill just outside of town was sparse. There was Reverend Melton, Jeb the undertaker, a handful of drunken men, and three boys. The boys listened stoically as the preacher struggled to find kind things to say about the deceased. Eventually he stopped trying when he noticed the second oldest boy smirking at him. He glared at the lad and quickly finished his speech before letting the other men speak. They bemoaned the death of their drinking partner as they went on about what a great poker player he’d been. As they walked away, they patted the shoulder of each boy and mumbled their condolences. Still, the young trio said nothing.

  Standing next to the grave, the boys watched dirt slowly fill the hole and cover the casket. It had been a depressing affair, nothing like the glorious service held a week earlier in the cemetery where the entire town came to pay their respects as the angelic voices of the church choir filled the sky. On that day, the townspeople wailed and cried as they felt the tragic loss of one of their own. The many dishes of food brought to the Sullivan doorstep would feed the boys for at least two months. Yes, this turnout was different. But it was one the boys wouldn’t have missed for the world.

  Reverend Melton stopped next to the group. He looked at each of them, studying their stone-faced expressions. Like their parents, they were incredibly good looking. Jackson was the eldest and he resembled his dear mother down to his calm personality. Standing tall at five feet-ten inches, he had short black hair and hazel eyes. He already looked wise beyond his thirteen years as he took on the role of the family patriarch.

  Eleven-year-old Darby was the second eldest, and unfortunately, resembled his bastard of a father. A strapping lad, he had thick reddish-brown hair that fell to his shoulders in sheets, and his eyes were a dark, stormy green. Many a lecture had been given to him because of the mischief he was always up to; but he shrugged it all off with the Sullivan ‘devil-may-care’ attitude and a shit-eating grin.

  And there was Casey, the baby of the family, who was eight years old. His dark blonde hair came from his paternal great-grandfather and was cut in a bowl that framed his head. Being small in stature, due to a fever at birth, had earned him the unpleasant title of ‘Little Shit’ from their father. His bright hazel eyes were filled with tears as he too stared at the grave.

  Clearing his throat, the reverend began somberly, “Boys, I’m sorry for your loss. It’s bad enough to lose your mother, but to lose your father as well-”

  “We didn’t lose our mother; she was taken from us, Reverend,” Darby vehemently interjected with a sneer as he continued to stare into the grave. Casey clutched his thigh and started to sob quietly. Reverend Melton shot Darby a censoring look as he bent down to console Casey; but he twisted away from them and launched himself at his eldest brother. Jack picked him up in his arms and rubbed his back as sobs shook his tiny body. The older man watched helplessly as the inconsolable little boy cried harder. Addressing Reverend Melton, Jack nodded his head and spoke for the first time that morning. “Thank you for your time today, sir. We really appreciate you coming out in this weather to assist us with this matter. Drive safely back to town, okay?”

  Realizing he’d been dismissed and by a thirteen-year-old lad no less, Reverend Melton simply nodded his head and made his way down the hill, saying prayers for them the whole way. The grave was now a quarter of the way filled. Jeb was working fast because the University of Tennessee was playing in less than an hour against Vanderbilt. Jack and Darby looked at each other silently communicating before Jack spoke.

  “Hey Jeb, why don’t you go ahead and get out of here? Darby and I can finish up,” he suggested firmly.

  “Awww hell. I can’t leave you two to bury your pappy. It ain’t the Christian thing to do,” Jeb said slowly as he snuck a glance at his watch.

  Darby snorted, “Old man
, you’re as much a Christian as the Devil is an angel.”

  Jack hid a smile as Jeb glared at his younger brother. Darby didn’t flinch, meeting the older man’s glare head on.

  “One of these days, Darby Sullivan. One of these days…” Jeb threatened taking a step towards the little brat who balled his fists up and puffed his chest out.

  Jack stepped between them and gave Jeb a hard look. “But not today, Jeb. Thank you for your time; we can take it from here.” Jeb shrugged. What did he care?

  “Suit yourself, young ‘un.” Jeb dropped the shovel and tipped his hat. “My condolences to your family,” he said before running down the hill to his truck. He sure hoped the boys had saved him a seat at the bar.

  It was a cool afternoon, but the sky was rolling with dark, gray clouds that promised a whopping thunderstorm with rain showers that would last a couple of days. The boys had watched the Weather Channel’s ten day forecast last week after burying their mother and specifically picked this day. Soon it would be time, but for now, they settled down to wait.

  Jack walked over to the backpack he had packed early this morning and took out some sandwiches and sodas. Darby pulled a blanket out, and they all sat down to eat in silence, lost in their thoughts. Casey soon drifted off to sleep in Darby’s lap, his sandwich half eaten. It was only then that the two brothers spoke.

  “So what’s the plan, Jack?” Darby asked around a mouthful of bologna and wheat. His older brother was the only person in the world he would listen to and follow blindly. His back bore the marks of his father’s belt buckle for his outright defiance, and his ears had often been blistered by his mama’s lectures, but all Jack had to do was look at him, and he would cut all bullshit aside.

  Jack looked up at the rolling sky which was getting darker by the minute. Soon, he thought. “I spoke to Aunt Kelly in Memphis. She’s willing to take us in.”

  Jack didn’t mention that in exchange for room and board, he would give her some of the money his mother had secretly saved for them. Aside from his brothers, Jack wanted nothing more to do with anyone named Sullivan, especially live with a complete stranger; but he needed to make sure they didn’t get separated. “The goal is for us to stay together, no matter what. It’s what she would have wanted.”

  Thunder rumbled loudly above them as the clouds turned darker with each passing minute. “Come on, Darby. It’s time.”

  Jack and Darby stood up, leaving Casey to sleep restlessly on the blanket. Darby reached into the backpack and pulled out a can of lighter fluid before following Jack to the half-buried grave. When they suggested the deceased be buried out of town, no one had put up much protest; for he was a truly evil man, and the town was relieved to be rid of him. The only protest came from lazy, old Jeb when they requested that a very deep grave be dug.

  Without looking at each other, the brothers quickly unzipped their pants and relieved themselves into the grave. Once finished, Darby contemptibly spat into the hole then shook lighter fluid down into it. When the can was empty he nodded at Jack.

  Jack reached into his pocket and produced a lighter. He flicked it open and a blue flame shot out almost hypnotizing him. As he spoke, his voice took on the Irish accent that only came out when the boys were emotional.

  “We do this to honor our ma, Moira Sullivan. A kind and beautiful lady she was. May she finally rest in peace without having to look over ‘er shoulder for yer’ sorry arse. She was a true angel, loved by everyone who knew ‘er, especially her boys. I know she’s happy now to be rid o’ the likes o’ ye as we are. Yer’ gone but will never be forgotten, Ma. May you rot in hell for all eternity, Patrick Sullivan, and even then t’would be too short a time for ye in our opinion.” Darby nodded; and with that, Jack dropped the flame into the pit of hell, his eyes burning with unshed tears of rage and sorrow.

  Quickly the flames spread, consuming the casket in a blazing fury and almost reaching the top of the grave. As the fire burned, Jack and Darby both looked on serenely. It climbed higher just as the rain started falling softly. They gave the burning pit the one-fingered salute before quickly gathering up their trash and stuffing it into the backpack. Darby pulled out their raincoats before putting the backpack on, while Jack wrapped Casey in the blanket, making sure he was protected from the quickly-falling rain. They started down the hill when Casey stirred sleepily, opening his big hazel eyes.

  “Is he truly gone, Jackie?” Casey asked in a whisper, as if afraid to believe it.

  Jack squeezed him closer as he answered, “Dinna fash yerself, Case. He’ll not be botherin’ you again. Get some rest now.” And Casey went back to sleep, a peaceful smile on his face.

  The rain started to come down harder, and by the time they reached the bottom of the hill, they were exhausted; and it would already be a long way back to town. It was at that moment that they noticed a black sedan on the side of the dirt road. Two men, underneath umbrellas, were leaning against the hood. They appeared to be waiting for the boys.

  The dark-haired one had a full beard and wore his hair slicked back in a ponytail. He was a huge, muscular man that stood six feet six inches tall and wore a lumberjack plaid shirt and well-worn jeans with work boots. Jack recognized Alexei Romankov, the town’s richest business man. The boys nodded in respect to him, and he did the same.

  The other man wore an expensive dark suit, and his long dark blond hair was pulled back from his angular face. His expression was intense as he watched them through narrowed, dark eyes. He was a stranger, and that was completely unacceptable to the boys as it was synonymous with danger. Darby quickly pulled his trusty switchblade from his front shirt pocket. The blade gleamed with deadly intent as he placed himself in front of his brothers.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Darby snarled. Alexei quickly hid a smile. The blond stranger raised his eyebrows and stood up straight. He murmured, “You weren’t joking, old friend,” before turning to face the boys again.

  “Young man, if you don’t wish for me to give you the ass kicking you rightly deserve, you will put that knife away. NOW!” he spoke sharply, in a gentrified tone. To Jack’s surprise, Darby obeyed immediately. Nodding at Jack, he continued. “My name is Ian Rusnik, and I knew your mother. In the event that something happened to her, I was to come immediately for you. Unfortunately, I did not hear of her passing until this morning,” he said sorrowfully. “You are to come live with me now.”

  “How do we know you are who you say you are?” Jack asked suspiciously. He was unaware his ma had any friends other than the ones his father had allowed her to have, including Alexei’s wife Vivienne. She was certainly not allowed to be friends with any man. Suddenly he was very tired. His arms were heavy from carrying Casey. He just wanted to get out of the cold rain and be alone with his thoughts.

  At that question, Darby’s blade came out again. As Jack glared at the stranger defiantly, he could feel Alexei’s sharp gaze on him. He daren’t look his way, because then he would be reminded of his mother’s friendship with the man’s wife. For sure he would lose it. He needed to be strong for his brothers, not bawling like a stupid baby. Thanks to his bastard da, he was now the head of the Sullivan family.

  Ian gave Darby a disapproving look and cleared his throat. To Jack he said calmly, “Loose wall in the pantry.” Jack froze, remembering his last conversation with his mother as she furiously whispered to him while his father screamed through the locked bedroom door.

  Grabbing his shoulders, Moira looked him in the eye. “Looks like we’ve been found out, boyo. I want you to take yer’ brothers far from here. Yer’ now in charge, Jackie. Go to the McNally residence; they’ll know what to do. Stay off the main road. When this all settles down, the money I’ve saved for us is in the loose wall in the pantry. Remember that. Loose wall in the pantry. You boys are my greatest loves. Always remember that and be happy.” She said this calmly as she kissed and hugged each of them tightly. They sobbed quietly as their father’s roars filled the house. “Now go, Jackie! I’m counting on
you. Go!”

  With tears in her eyes, Moira shoved the bedroom window open for them. Jack knew in his heavy heart that this would be the last time he saw her alive. Grabbing her hand he pleaded. “Come with us, Ma!”

  Moira Sullivan touched her eldest son’s face and offered a smile full of heartache and regret. “Jackie, I’m giving you and yer’ brothers a chance to be free of this hellhole I’ve created. I wish things coulda been different, but they can’t. Be happy, a stór.”

  Straightening up, her eyes cooled as she said firmly “Now as yer’ ma, I order you to leave this house and not look back.” And with that, she shoved him halfway out the window. He jumped the short fall to the ground and ran with his brothers towards the woods as they heard the bedroom door burst open.

  Screams of fury and agony filled the night air and twice he had to wrestle Darby back as his younger brother tried to return to the house, tears of rage streaming down his face. Casey’s cries of terror were shrill, giving Jack a headache, but he forged ahead to their closest neighbor’s home, not once looking back.

  “Jack?” The sound of Darby’s worried voice shook him from his reverie. “Jack… what should we do?”