Junkie: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Introduction

  Epigraph

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  More from J.D. Hollyfield

  Also Written by K Bromberg

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  © 2020 KB WORLDS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  Published by KB Worlds LLC.

  Cover Design by: All By Design

  Cover Image by: Adobe Stock

  Editing by: Word Nerd Editing

  Proofreading by: Novel Mechanic

  Formatting by: Champagne Book Design

  Published in the United States of America

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to the Driven World!

  I’m so excited you’ve picked up this book! Junkie is a book based on the world I created in my New York Times bestselling Driven Series. While I may be finished writing this series (for now), various authors have signed on to keep them going. They will be bringing you all-new stories in the world you know while allowing you to revisit the characters you love.

  This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I allowed them to use the world I created and may have assisted in some of the plotting, I took no part in the writing or editing of the story. All praise can be directed their way.

  I truly hope you enjoy Junkie If you’re interested in finding more authors who have written in the KB Worlds, you can visit www.kbworlds.com.

  Thank you for supporting the writers in this project and me.

  Happy Reading,

  K. Bromberg

  To Kristy. Thanks for letting me ride your wave.

  If you’re in control, you’re not going fast enough.

  —Parnelli Jones

  Luna

  I’m a junkie.

  I live for the moments when adrenaline floods my system, making my heart pump like a wild drum inside my chest, threatening to explode at any moment. That’s what I crave.

  Every second counts. The highs. The lows. The endorphins that race through my blood in a fury, injecting the addiction I desire. The high is my salvation—the place I feel most alive—and there’s no stopping me when I’m high. There’s only that voice that urges me to push harder. I’m fucking crazy, I know. I’m not wired like most. I’ve accepted that.

  The full moon lights my path as I drive up to the hidden location. Luxury neon lights come into view, lining the dark, quiet strip of roadway that should be abandoned. I pull up with my Pagani Huayra BC Roadster, one of the fastest cars currently on the market, and shift her into park next to the other hyper cars full of junkies just like me.

  A knock on my driver side window grabs my attention. Before the window’s fully down, Jade, my best friend—my only friend—sticks his head inside, his purple dreadlocks swaying back and forth. “There’s my girl and her need for speed! Damn, Luna, you’re on fire tonight. Who’s the beauty? Another loaner?”

  I’m also a thief.

  I didn’t grow up in a conventional and loving family who taught me right from wrong and showered me with love and affection. They don’t offer much of that fairytale bullshit in foster care. Probably why my hobbies include all things illegal and frowned upon. My bank account is nonexistent, especially as of two weeks ago when I lost it all in a bunk race. So, to feed my addiction, I have to get creative—aka, find someone else to foot the bill for me.

  I unlatch my seatbelt and push on the handle to exit the vehicle. Jade backs up, licking his lips as he takes in my car for the night. “Let’s just say someone may be confused when their dinner date ends and they realize their fancy car is not where they left it.”

  The Pagani is not my first heist, and it won’t be my last. The logistics are simple. I spend my week stalking downtown Cleveland, watching, waiting. Ohio doesn’t scream money, but the rich do love to come to the city to show off their expensive toys, along with their arm candy—ninety percent of the time, not their wives or even girlfriends. The things you learn when you have nothing but time. I watch for patterns. Wait for the perfect opportunity. Then, when the time is right, I strike. Hijacking a car is easy. One click on the right YouTube video could teach anyone. A simple tapping of two wires and viola! Stealing the cars isn’t what feeds my high though. It isn’t when I slide into the driver’s seat and the Italian leather warms my palms, or even the rush that I just made someone’s prized possession mine. Racing—that’s what does it. It’s the pure, raw adrenaline of bringing something to such an intense speed without restraints, bordering on insanity all while knowing I’m the one in control. Now that’s a fuckin high. “Girl, you kill me. Big race tonight, though. Lots of money on the line.”

  Yeah, lots of money I need to win. Losing isn’t an option. I take my lucky hairband from my wrist and pull my thick hair into a ponytail, securing it away from my face. “Got this one in the bag. Meet me at the finish line, and I’ll treat you to a late-night drink.”

  Jade hollers, “Drink? You’re gonna buy me more than a drink if you win this one.” And I plan on winning. I scope out the warehouse, taking in the competition. Typical souped-up Mustangs. Low riding Mazda MX probably stocked with enough nitrous oxide to blow off the road. Christoff, a regular racer, leans against his Porsche 944, the neon lights on the undercarriage glowing at his feet. None intimidate me—until my eyes land on the Nissan 350Z. It’s not the car exactly; it’s all the juice inside it and the driver.

  “So, what’s this baby got?” Jade pops the hood to take a peek inside.

  I rip my gaze off the car and address Jade. “Seven hundred fifty-five horsepower. Top speed of two-thirty mph and I can get her from zero to sixty in two-point-three seconds.” I drag my finger along the body. Jade whistles, causing a few patrons to glance our way. Yeah, that’s right. I’m going to win this one.

  “Well, if it isn’t the lovely Luna Monroe. Thought you disappeared after that embarrassing loss last month.” We both rotate our heads toward the incoming douchebag, Jerad Stellar, top drag racer in all surrounding counties, the only person I’ve ever lost a race to—which cost me every dime I had—and a grade-A asshole.

  “Go fuck yourself, Stellar. Oh, wait…that’s for your mom to do.” Jerad jumps at Jade, cocking his fist back. I
intervene, stepping between them.

  “What do you want, Jerad?” I can’t deal with his shit right now. I need to stay focused.

  Jerad steps forward, pushing up against me. My stomach churns at the feel of his chest against mine. Raising his hand, he takes a loose strand of hair between two fingers, rolling it between the tips. “You know what I want.” His words make my skin crawl. He bends forward, allowing his breath to skate along my ear. “Just give in. You know I can take this sweet little body to places no other man has. I’d even give you back some of your losses if you took this beautiful mouth and wrapped your fuckable lips around my cock.” I shove him off me. Don’t let him get in your head. Not again.

  “Mmmm, feisty. You know how much I like that side of you, babe.”

  My stomach threatens to expel the small meal I managed to finagle for dinner all over his expensive shoes. “I think I’ll pass,” I say, trying to hide that he’s affected me in any way. Jerad laughs, then shoves his shoulder into Jade as he walks away into the sea of racers and bystanders.

  “You okay?” Jade asks.

  No. “Yeah. Fine.”

  “You ever going to tell me what happened between you two?”

  He tried to rape me. “No.”

  I can only blame myself. Losing to him fucked me. I put up everything I had to lock a spot in that race, and I thought I had it too—until Jerad cut me off at the overtake, pulling some straight-out-of-the-movies bullshit, nicking my right tire. There are no rules in street racing in regards to special standards, so it was fair game. He could have side-swiped me off that course, but it would have been obvious to other opponents. My tire blew, and I lost my traction, veering left and nailing a long row of construction barrels. That move cost me the win.

  My mind wasn’t right. I thought I could show up at his place, find a way to give him what he’d been begging for, and steal my money back. But he was stronger. And his need for me was more intense than my ability to fend him off. If his roommate didn’t come home…

  I shake off the memory. I need to focus.

  A horn blasts through the industrial complex, signaling racers to get ready.

  “It’s time.”

  Jade hugs me tight before I climb back into my car and pull around the crowd. I roll down my window as the guy prepares to flip a coin. This is how they match up opponents. Two racers at a time. There are eight cars in total, which means the probability of getting tagged with Jerad again are—

  “Monroe and Stellar, you’re up first.”

  Fuck! I keep my expression impassive, fighting not to look at him. I feel his beady eyes on me, and I bet my right tit he’s grinning like a fucking jerk.

  “Everyone else pull back. Monroe and Stellar, on the line!” Jacob, the host of the race, yells. Bringing his two-way radio to his lips, he tells the guy at the finish line he’s preparing his racers. “You’ve just been texted the GPS route for the race. You both know the rules. Watch for my signal. When the flag drops, the race starts. Any sooner, you’ll be disqualified. You two ready?” His eyes bounce back and forth between us. I nod and roll up my window, silencing the noise from the crowd.

  Jacob stands between our cars, a few feet ahead. He waves the checkered flag before bringing it over his head. With one last glance at us both, his arms slam downward. It’s like taking my first hit, inhaling the rush as my tires spin out before gripping the surface. I hold my breath until the adrenaline fills my veins. My heart rate accelerates along with my speed. I feel like I’m flying. I floor it down the straight and narrow road, a grin forming across my cheeks.

  Jerad is faster off the starting line, but it doesn’t faze me. He’s clearly souped-up on some special octane shit. Not that I expected anything less. If I hadn’t been in such a hurry to get here, I’d have driven my liberated car around long enough to burn off the gas and replace it with a higher octane.

  The thing is, winning isn’t always about maintaining the lead. First place only matters when crossing that finish line. What’s important is precision. Calculation. You have to allow the street to speak to you. Become one with the vehicle and know when the time to go for it is. And that’s my specialty.

  Tonight’s course is nothing I haven’t raced before. Three miles from start to finish down a long stretch of dark, narrow roads and through an empty industrial park. The main obstacles are avoiding crashing into the abandoned semi-trucks, and most importantly, the sharp turns. They can make or break you. Know how to handle your ride? You win. Fuck it up? You don’t. Which means I’ve got this one in the bag.

  The first stretch is a straight shot down an abandoned streetway. I’m up to ninety miles per hour within seconds as the lights behind us quickly fade, leaving us both in the dark, with only a GPS and my sweet ride leading the way. Cars are universal to me. I don’t need them to have specific enhancements to win. I just need them to be fast. Really fucking fast. Does that mean I had to heist the most expensive car out tonight in Cleveland? Probably not. But it does make the thrill more enticing. Sure, I’ll blister the tires. Cost someone an arm and a leg to replace. And I may be a thief, but I’m not inconsiderate. I’ll dump her in an alley for the police to find and return to her rightful, angry owners.

  Two minutes pass before we hit the first bend. GPS has us taking a sharp left down another dark roadway until we’re neck and neck, heading into the abandoned industrial park. Jerad wouldn’t be Jerad if he didn’t play dirty. When we race across the open lot, he swerves into me, causing me to veer sharply to the left. He traps me between a row of dumpsters as we speed through the deserted trucking facility, taking out my driver side mirror.

  “Fuck, I needed that,” I watch in my rear-view mirror as it flies into the air and smashes against the concrete.

  Jerad finally lets me up and we veer right, speeding through the parking lot, and weaving in and out of broken-down semi-trucks. GPS spits out another coordinate and I realize this is my chance. We are racing past a long building, and in under a quarter of a mile, there’s a small, narrow alley between the two buildings. It’s instructing us to head right and down the alleyway. From the looks of the highlighted directions, it’s a straight shot. I just need to be the first to get there.

  I slam on my gas, feeling the power of the wheels grip the cement, thrusting me forward. My increasing speed is beyond sick. I gain the lead and slap my hand on the steering wheel. “Yeah! That’s right, asshole.” Then my GPS shorts out. Barely half a second and I’m smacking on my brakes, almost missing the alley. “Fuck!” What the hell? Jerad flips me off and speeds down the alley. I bash my palm against the steering wheel, my irritation spiking.

  I’m forced to let off the gas as I veer right. My backside fishtails, almost whacking into the corner of the building as I slide into the alley. I curse Jerad. I should have known he had more up his sleeve. It’s been rumored racers have ways to block Wi-Fi frequency, messing with GPS, but I never believed he’d stoop that low. From the beginning, he knew I’d beat him.

  I quickly get my head back in the game and take off down the narrow lane. This race is far from over. My foot throttles the gas, and I shift forward, feeling the speed of the car. Jerad may have some tricks up his sleeve, but so do I. It’s called being a motherfuckin’ badass. When the alley opens, a sharp turn will boost me where I need to be. That’s never been Jerad’s strong suit, hence his cowardly ways of getting ahead. I fucking got this. The smell of cash already fills my senses, and I know this win belongs to me. Dollar signs float in the forefront of my mind. I’ll grab the lead outside the alley, and boom—all that’s left is the small patch of road bringing us out to the edge of the quarry.

  “You got this, baby—shit!” Up ahead, Jerad hits the opening and slams on his brakes. I hiss, punching on my own to avoid crashing into him. My tires skid, and the car fishtails, smashing into the right side of the building. My body jolts. A rush of pain shoots up my back as I make contact. An untamed blaze of fire explodes in front of me, igniting the dark sky. I barely h
ave enough time to shield my face before I plunge into Jerad’s car, suddenly engulfed in flames. The impact sends my head into the steering wheel, triggering the airbags. A crack echoes inside the small compartment, along with a crushing roar of steel. My head spins, and I threaten to lose consciousness. Pain radiates up my leg, and I howl in agony. Lifting my hand to my forehead, wetness drenches my fingers, and my vision blurs. “Fuck,” I groan at the searing pain, blinking away the dizziness. The angry beast of flames surrounds me, and I grab for the door handle to escape. My movements are sluggish as I fight off a wave of nausea. Unsnapping my seatbelt, I wrestle with the latch, but it’s jammed. “Come on!” I cry, panic creeping up my spine.

  My eyes dart around as I thrash against the restraint. I can barely see through the flames to make out Jerad. The seatbelt finally releases, and I rip the door open. Tumbling forward, I scream at the aching in my leg. Blood covers my upper thigh. “Shit. Shit!” Don’t think of that right now. I need to push through the pain and get out of here. I manage to get to my feet and stumble away from my car. A form in the distance staggers forward, fighting through the thick blaze, and my heart hammers. Jerad.

  “What the hell were you thinking stopping like that!” I yell, then cough into my hand as angry black smoke and flames surround us. A spark of fire ignites, sending an explosion of glowing embers into the sky. It throws me backwards as Jerad attempts to block the cinders from scorching his skin. I crawl back up, choking on the smoke, when Jerad comes into full view.

  Streams of blood race down his face while he cradles his twisted arm. “There were two cars blocking the exit, I slammed……” he wheezes. “When I tried taking the turn…” He starts to cough, the smoke so fierce, it’s restricting his airways. “Fuck, my arm, I think it’s broken.” He howls. His eyes widen in horror as he stares at the exposed bone that ripped through his flesh. “What the fuck!” Just like me, he’s becoming consumed with panic.