Hooked (A New Adult Romance) Read online

  Hooked

  Alison Heart

  Copyright © 2015 by Alison Heart

  All Rights Reserved Worldwide

  No part of this book may be copied, reproduced, downloaded to the Internet or distributed in any format without prior written consent from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. References to characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

  ~Dedication~

  To NC. I wouldn’t be doing this without you.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Six Months Later

  Hooked

  Chapter 1

  Jake

  My tired eyes looked blankly at the empty glass in front me, watching the ice cubes slowly melt to the bottom.

  “Fuck, Jake, you destroyed that guy tonight,” my cousin Vinny smiled while slamming back his fourth drink in about as many minutes. We were sitting in a private booth at Vinny’s nightclub, The 69er, celebrating yet another one of my victories and the resulting $20,000 paycheck.

  I tossed my head up and smiled back unenthusiastically, wishing I were anywhere but here.

  Don’t get me wrong, I love Vinny and everything, it’s just that I had something else on my mind at the moment. And it wasn’t about the fight—it was about a girl.

  “Another beer, Jake,” one of the waitresses asked as she bent over to retrieve my glass, showing me her bust in the process. She gave me a coy look that made it clear she wanted to jump my bones, and bad. It’s strange to think how much I used to enjoy getting hit on, but lately these ridiculous sorts of displays were becoming increasingly tiresome and tedious.

  I shook my head ‘no.’ I wasn’t in the mood to drink anymore than I was in the mood for a slutty waitress to wax my dick; admittedly, I was feeling irritable.

  Normally after a big win I’m all about getting a little fucked up and crazy—you know, a guy’s got to unwind some after building up for a fight.

  But not tonight.

  No, tonight I saw Her. Tonight I saw Ruby Cain.

  Ruby is the reason I’m the way I am. She’s the reason I’m in medical school. She’s the inspiration that drives this champion fighter. She’s the reason I feel like I’m leading this fucking double-life.

  And I’ll be damned if I didn’t see her hot ass for the first time in eight fucking years.

  The only girl who had ever rejected me…

  I saw her hurrying into a cab on Fourth Street.

  She didn’t see me, but I saw her.

  Oh yeah, I saw her all right, in all her glorious perfection. Even my dick twitched at the sight of her—really, no joke. The only thing that’s changed about her is that she’s even more beautiful than ever.

  What the hell was she was up to these days? And what was her rush?

  Yeah, I was distracted, to say the least. A girl like Ruby can turn your whole world upside down and inside out, can make time stop and the laws of physics cease to exist.

  No, the last thing I needed right now was another drink.

  Even though it was after midnight and I was tired, I said ‘goodbye’ to Vinny and went for a run.

  Nothing like a good run to clear the head.

  I needed to think.

  I needed to reset.

  Ruby

  Well wouldn’t you know it?

  After eight years I see Him: Jake Bishop.

  The hottest guy in my high school. Hell, probably one of the hottest guys in the world. Even way back then he was built like Adonis—I can just imagine how he’s filled out in the intervening years.

  I had just stepped out of the clinic where I’m employed as a nurse. It was about 10pm, and I was working late to finish up some loose ends so that I wouldn’t have to deal with them come Monday.

  I was startled by the loud commotion across the street as people suddenly poured out of The Orpheum, a small local theater. Cameras clicked and glittered luminously, people were cheering, and a scrum of reporters was hovering like vultures around a tall, imposing figure in a hoodie.

  I took note of the glowing marquee projecting above the main entrance of the theater. My jaw dropped when I read:

  Tri-State MMA Fighting Championships. Jake ‘The Surgeon’ Bishop vs Rabid Cole Taylor.

  I squinted my eyes to get a better look at the hooded stranger. He turned to address a reporter, and with the streetlight and numerous flashbulbs now illuminating his ruggedly handsome face, I recognized in an instant Jake’s sexy jawline, perfectly shaped nose and cocky smile.

  Truth be told, my heart did a little flip.

  He had a thing for me back in high school. And maybe I had a thing for him, too. But he was simply too wild, too dangerous, too immature, and too out of control. He was the Bad Ass of the bad assess, and was always into some kind of trouble and getting into fights.

  And trouble was one thing I couldn’t afford back then. I promised myself and my mother that I would work hard and get ahead in life—I wasn’t about to grow up to be a low-life like my runaway father.

  Or like Jake.

  Because Jake was clearly heading towards the dregs of society, even back then.

  And clearly I was right, because look at him now. Still fighting.

  Ha! ‘The Surgeon.’ I rolled my eyes at the moniker. How base and juvenile. I guess some things never change.

  By the look on his face and the way everyone was reacting to him I assumed he had won his fight; and once again, some things never change.

  Thank God he didn’t see me.

  I quickly hopped into the first cab I could wave down and told the cabbie to drive away immediately.

  I wanted nothing to do Jake Bishop; even if he was the most luscious guy I’d ever laid eyes on.

  Chapter 2

  Jake

  “Keep your hands up, Jake! Keep your hands up, dammit! Focus,” Ricky hollered at me. Ricky Baxter is my coach and mentor, the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father.

  And you don’t want to hear about my father. Or my mother, for that matter.

  Long story short I was a fuck up when I was younger, but Ricky saved me, put me in the ring, encouraged me to work hard. If it weren’t for Ricky’s daily dose of strict regimentation I wouldn’t be in medical school today, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be paying for it through what I earn fighting.

  Needless to say, I owe Ricky my life and love him dearly. I would die for him.

  It’s 6am. I usually work out between 5 and 7:30am on the days I have class.

  Because when you’re a champion in the ring and in the classroom, you have to be disciplined.

  And I’m the most disciplined motherfucker you’ve ever laid eyes on.

  Ricky was yelling at me for making stupid mistakes. Really fucking stupid mistakes.

  We were sparring and he was hitting me from every angle. I was so distracted he could have been blindfolded and wacked my dick off, that’s how absorbed I was in my own thoughts. Finally he had enough and pulled me out of the ring and sat me down on a stool.

  “Jake, what’s up?” he inquired with a stern expression. He didn’t sit down. He never sits when he’s coaching. He s
imply bent over, with his hands on his knees, and held his face about a foot away from mine.

  “Nuthin’,” I lied. “Just maybe a little tired, I guess.”

  “Uh huh.” He looked me directly in the eyes. He knew I was lying. “School goin’ okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. It’s good.”

  “How’s your brother, Chance? You heard from him?”

  “Yeah, talked to him not too long ago. He’s patrolling in Afghanistan. He’s good.”

  “Then what’s the problem? Is it a girl?”

  I steadily held his gaze and smirked, “No. I’m telling you, nothing’s wrong.”

  “Well then get the hell out of here and don’t waste my time. Come back when you’re ready to practice.” He left me and walked over to his office.

  I nodded, got up and began making my way to the locker room. That’s another thing I like about Ricky: he’s a no-bullshit kind of guy. He tells it like it is, and expects you to do the same. No fucking around, no whining, no excuses.

  “Hey Jake!”

  I stopped and turned around. “Yeah?”

  “You know that if you’ve got a problem, you can always come to me.”

  “Yeah, Ricky, I know. Thanks.”

  I walked into the locker room, stripped down and took a shower. After I was finished I wrapped a towel around my waist and went to a sink to shave. I looked at the handsome devil peering back at me from the mirror.

  “That siren has really gotten under your skin, hasn’t she?” I said to my reflection.

  It was true.

  Ruby Cain had gotten under my skin.

  I continued to look at myself in the mirror, contemplating the person I had become. It was true; I owed Ricky my life for he largely shaped the man I am today.

  But Ruby…Ruby also largely shaped the man I am today.

  Damn her. Damn her for insinuating that I was an immature ass who wouldn’t amount to anything.

  If she only knew.

  Ruby

  “Okay, Timmy, can you please open wide for the airplane? It’ll be in and out before you know it,” I smiled as I brought a tongue depressor towards the mouth of an adorable, albeit pouty, five year old. He was seated on the exam table in front of me. His mother brought him in because he had a fever and was complaining of a sore throat.

  It’s funny, but when I was a little girl I absolutely hated hospitals, hated anything to do with healthcare. I guess it was because I thought they stunk and reminded me of death and suffering and pain. And now, at 26 years of age, it’s strange to find myself working full-time as a nurse at a family practice clinic. How ironic: the one thing I absolutely abhorred growing up turned out to be my profession as an adult. I’ve come to conclude in my ripe old age that life is bizarre and hopelessly convoluted.

  That being said, I love my job and couldn’t think of anything else I’d rather be doing. I love helping people and interacting with them on a daily basis, and there are few things more important than giving back to others.

  Because giving back to others was something my mother drilled into my brother and me.

  The funny thing is, we never had anything to give, we were simply too poor.

  So I guess I’m making up for lost time.

  My mother constantly struggled to care for us. I guess it’s why I felt so obligated to apply myself and work hard in school to get ahead; I wanted her to be proud of me, and I wanted to be able to give back to her when I was older.

  And I’m proud to say that now I can.

  But what I’m not proud of is that today I’ve been distracted; today I haven’t been myself. I haven’t been entirely focused on the patients who need me.

  Because my mind has been stuck on the past and Jake Bishop.

  Don’t get me wrong—I don’t care for Jake, not in the least. I’m just a few short weeks away from being married to the man of my dreams, Dr. Dan Hartley, a clinical pathologist, lecturer and professor at the local medical school. I couldn’t be happier or more in love.

  It was just such a shock to see Jake the other night. We sort of had a thing for each other.

  Actually. Check that.

  He had a thing for me. Probably because I was the only girl in our school who didn’t drop her panties when he winked at her.

  That was all. I swear. No, he reminded too much of my father: crazy, immature, a player. The kind of guy who fucked who he wanted, when he wanted, regardless of the situation or whom he might hurt.

  No, Jake Bishop was bad news.

  Rotten to the core.

  The only thing he had going for him was his rock hard abs, bulging pecs, ripped arms and charming grin.

  And it’s not like I never thought about him; I just wasn’t dumb enough to go there.

  He was simply on my mind because, after such a long absence, we happen to cross paths.

  Three weeks before my wedding.

  So, yeah, like I said before: life is bizarre and convoluted.

  Chapter 3

  Jake

  Of all the subjects I’ve been introduced to thus far in med school, anatomic and surgical pathology has been my favorite. Learning about how disease and trauma is diagnosed and examined has literally been life changing, revolutionizing the way I see myself and others. And I’ve got Dr. Dan Hartley to thank for that.

  Dr. Hartley really opened my eyes to the world of traumatic injuries, and has been by far the most influential professor I’ve ever had.

  He’s even made me a better fighter (although neither he nor anyone else in my program knows about my side job; gotta keep the fact that I frequently send dudes to the ER on the down low. Those sorts of revelations will get a guy kicked out of med school for sure).

  In fact, my prolific knowledge of human anatomy is responsible for my nickname, ‘The Surgeon’, because when I’m done rearranging your insides you’ll need a surgeon to put your sorry ass back together again.

  Of course, no one in the fighting world except Ricky, and a few close trainers, know I’m in med school.

  During a training session once, shortly after I had been accepted, Ricky humorously asked if my violent actions in the cage would in any way conflict with the promise that I do no harm as a doctor?

  To that I said: Nope.

  A man has got to make a living, and I was born to make money. And lots of it.

  So I don’t waste time concerning myself with abstruse philosophical quandaries or the implications of the Hippocratic Oath.

  I bash heads. I get paid. Then with that money I learn how to put Humpty Dumpty together again.

  Simple as that.

  Right now I’m hurrying to a study session. I’ve got a big fight in Chicago coming up in two days, but before I leave for that I’ve got a couple of exams to ace.

  I’m meeting a really cute girl, Sara. She’s all about fucking any chance we get, and although she’s a cool girl, can expertly handle my dick, and smart as hell, she’s looking to settle down and start a family after med school.

  And I’m not into that.

  No, I’ve got bigger fish to fry. And I got to keep my head in the game.

  And, admittedly, I’ve been a little distracted as of late.

  Distractions are the last think I can handle right now.

  Can’t get caught thinking about a girl when my brain should be thinking about pounding an opponent’s face in.

  The stakes are simply too high at the moment.

  Ruby

  “Hey, Julie! Thanks for meeting me on such short notice,” I reached out and tightly hugged my best friend. Julie is going to be my maid of honor, and with work and planning the wedding I haven’t had a lot of time to hang out with her. We used to go to coffee at least once a week, but lately it’s been more like once a month, if that.

  “No problem, babe,” she smiled. “How’s the planning going?”

  “Close to done,” I sighed triumphantly.

  We both order black coffee and sit down at a quiet table in a corner.

  We chat
mainly about my wedding, and a little about her life. Julie is definitely a little crazier than myself, but in a responsible way. She’s artsy and spontaneous and rides life by the seat of her pants, unlike me. Her upbringing was much more stable than mine, giving her the confidence to strike out and try new things and talk to new people.

  Julie is also a much more animated speaker than I am.

  During our visit, she began telling a wild tale about a situation at the nightclub where she works. As she was getting into her story, with arms gesturing and head enthusiastically bouncing around, her eye happened to catch something outside the window.

  A moment later she halted her story and turned to look more intently at what captured her attention.

  Following her lead, I turned to look as well.

  “Say…isn’t that Dan?” she asked with a frown.

  I leaned forward and squinted out the window. We were sitting towards the back of the café, so I didn’t have a good look. “Yeah,” I said with bated breath.

  Dan was standing outside with a tall, slim, gorgeous redhead in a short skirt, exchanging flirtatious looks and appearing a little too interested in his companion. She appeared to be about my age, maybe a little younger.

  “He was supposed to be booked with cases all day,” I said, more to myself than to Julie.

  We both sat silently and watched them. Then, shockingly, Dan leaned forward and kissed the girl on the cheek. They then parted ways.

  “Uh, who was that?” Julie shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

  “Never seen her before in my life.” I looked into my cup of coffee, as if searching for answers.

  I glanced out the window one more time, absentmindedly watching the passersby. An awkward silence fell over our table for a moment.

  Cheerily I recovered and said, “Hm, well it could be anyone. Dan is such a busy body, always has in hands in a million endeavors. It could be a former or current student, a patient, a coworker, who knows?”