Bounty Hunter

By Michelle Leyland

*Suitable for readers aged 15 and over. Contains drug use, language and sexual references.

Drake got off to a bad start at sixteen; getting in with the wrong crowd, partying all the time, taking drugs and failing his high school exams. After rehab, he gets a fresh start to turn his life around. With his life-long dream of being a police officer shattered, he starts working as a Bounty Hunter instead.

He loves his job, makes new friends and falls in love with a gorgeous Spanish girl named Kara. However, his perfect and happy life soon changes when everything falls apart. Just when he thinks his situation can’t get any worse, he gets a call from a new, mysterious client and finds himself in even deeper trouble.

Drake is a character from my current teen series:
Book 1 - Freedom Fighters: Twilight City (OUT NOW)
Book 2 - Freedom Fighters: Dragon City (OUT NOW)
Book 3 - Freedom Fighters: Lost City (OUT NOW)
Book 4 - Freedom Fighters (Coming Soon)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michelle Leyland
• Release date: Nov 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9780992632052

Michelle Leyland

Michelle Leyland was born in 1990 and spent all of her life living in Lancashire, England. She has always loved writing and drawing and since the age of 13 has dreamed of becoming a published author and illustrator one day. She has written several fiction stories for children, teenagers and adults, and illustrated all her children’s books.Michelle also loves to play drums, dance, sing, go to concerts, daydream and read.

Book preview

I’ll never forget the first time I was taken to the police station. I was so worked up and convinced I was in big trouble, and for what? Six months of doing drugs with my high school friends. It really wasn’t worth it, but it was too late to go back and change it.

I’d felt like a complete idiot when the police officer told us our parents would be informed and called down to the station. I had been dreading their arrival.

My parents were the typical high-paid workaholics with important careers. I’d gotten away with everything because they were never around to know any different. While they were at their boring offices, I was out having fun doing whatever I wanted. They were pretty strict when they were home; encouraged me to study, get good exam results and have a good career once I finished high school. Instead I ended up hanging out with the wrong crowd, thinking I was so cool. Sure, it had been fun going to all those parties, scoring with hot girls and getting drunk and high; but I never thought of the consequences.

I didn’t care about school or lessons. Half the time I was there I’d have side effects; being really tired and almost falling asleep in every class, or having problems concentrating. I flunked all my exams.

Mum and Dad were horrified and annoyed when my exam results arrived in August. They asked me why I’d got such low grades, genuinely confused at the outcome. What could I do; tell them the real reasons I hadn’t bothered revising? That would have got me into even bigger trouble.

Instead I just shrugged, said I hadn’t really understood a lot of the things they tried to teach me and the revising didn’t help.

You could have asked the teachers for help or gone to some after school clubs, Dad had told me, disappointed. Why didn’t you tell us about it?

I shrugged again, you’re both too busy to care.

We do care about you, Drake, Mum said, looking upset. We would have taken the time to support you if we knew. I thought you were doing well at school. The teachers were happy about your progress at parent’s evening last year.

I tried not to smirk, wondering what the teachers would have told them about me a few months down the line from then. I’d definitely not have gotten any positive reviews.

You’re enrolling for college and re-sitting your maths and English exams, Dad told me firmly. At least this way you’ll get a second chance to gain some GCSEs.

I don’t want to go to college, I protested. I’d hated high school enough and thought I was finally free. Instead I was annoyed at the thought of being forcing back to some boring classroom.

Well it’s tough. I’m enrolling you tonight, replied Dad. You can start college next month.

I swore under my breath, crossing my arms.

Mum heard, Drake, don’t use that language, she warned me. I know you’re not happy but this is for the best.

It’s not fair. All my other friends are getting jobs, I had felt jealous of them, thinking they’d be earning money for more drugs and booze. Why can’t I get one instead of college?

Because you’re not getting stuck at some dead end job working at a supermarket or fast food place, said Dad, as if those types of jobs were beneath us. You’re getting some qualifications and a real career.

I sighed. I didn’t care about a career; I just wanted to earn money.

I had been pretty fed up about having to start college in a few weeks, so I partied with my friends as much as I could to make the most of my summer. Then one night the police busted our party at a friend’s house. One of the neighbours must have complained about something stupid like the music being too loud. When the police officers arrived they must have expected it to be the usual call of splitting up another teen party. Instead they caught us all doing Ecstasy and that’s when it got serious.

We were all arrested and brought over to the police station. When my parents finally arrived after receiving the phone call, they looked shocked and dismayed. I was still too high to fully register what was going on, but I was terrified they were going to send me to jail. The fact I was doing Class A drugs made it even worse.

Luckily, the police officer explained that because I was only using them for personal use instead of dealing, and it was my first offence, I wouldn’t be getting a serious charge. I got off with a reprimand, since I was under the age of eighteen, and I was so relieved I thought I was going to pass out. The police officer gave my parents a leaflet and explained everything, but I couldn’t take any of it in. All I knew was I was off the hook and I’d be in big trouble if I was ever caught again.

Mum knew there was no point talking things over once we got home, since I was still out of it. She just sent me straight to bed until I crashed.

Once it was morning, I knew I had to face them and they were about to kick off big style. I nervously went down for breakfast, feeling sick.

My parents were already sat at the dining table waiting for me and they told me off for what seemed like ages, using the words ‘irresponsible’ and ‘disgusting behaviour’ a lot.

That’s the last time you see any of these so-called friends, Mum said once they’d finished their lecture. They’re obviously a bad influence on you and I don’t want you getting involved in that situation again.

What are you gonna do, ground me? I asked sarcastically.

Yes, that’s exactly what we’re doing.

I’m nearly seventeen, I’m not even at high school anymore, I protested.

Until you’ve finished college and start paying for yourself, you’ll do exactly as we tell you, said Dad. No more parties and no more drugs.

What am I supposed to do all summer? I asked. I can’t just stay in until college starts.

Mum shared a look with Dad and I had a bad feeling what they were going to say.

Drake... we think it’s best if you go to rehab, she told me gently.

Chapter 2

What?! I was so shocked at their announcement.

We’re making sure you get off the drugs properly, replied Mum.

I’m not an addict. I don’t need rehab, I lied.

It’s better to get support, even if you’re not, Dad told me calmly. It will be hard to come off them and we don’t have time to supervise you twenty four hours a day.

I don’t want to go. I’ll be fine coming off them on my own…

You’re going and that’s final, Dad had firmly put his foot down on the subject and there was no use complaining. Go pack your bags. We’re taking you in today.

I was stunned. I couldn’t believe my parents were dumping me at rehab and I’d never be able to find a fix once I was there. I knew there was no point in arguing with my parents because I wouldn’t get anywhere. Defeated, I went upstairs to my bedroom and miserably packed some of my stuff into a duffel bag.

They drove me to a private rehabilitation centre an hour’s drive away and Dad went to the reception desk, explaining the phone call they made earlier. A nurse took me through for an initial assessment and luckily my parents were told to stay in the waiting room so I could do it alone.

You have to be completely honest with me and answer all our questions or we won’t be able to help you recover properly, the nurse said as we sat down. I know it will be hard, but everything you say will be kept confidential and we won’t discuss any of it with your parents.

I didn’t really feel like talking and gave short answers to everything she asked. I had to admit to everything: how long I’d been taking them, what kind I used, what amounts, how often and which side effects I got. It felt weird having to tell an adult after keeping it a secret from my parents for so long.

What caused you to start taking drugs? she asked. Were there problems at home? Trouble at school? Any emotional distress?

There’s nothing wrong with me, I snapped. I was annoyed that they were suddenly acting like a counselling service, as if I had issues I needed to talk through. I just took them for fun. All my friends did too.

Was it peer pressure that made you try them?

I was annoyed at that too, trying to make out I was being forced into it or bullied, No, I just wanted to try them and it made parties even better, so I kept using.

Do you want to stop taking drugs?

Why would I be here if I didn’t? I replied moodily.

I have to make sure it’s not just because your parents forced you into coming. You have to want it for this treatment to work. We can’t force you against your will. So do you want to quit?

I shrugged in answer, but of course I didn’t want to stop. Why would I give up something good?

The nurse bored me with all kinds of information about how ill I could get and what effects it would have on me. I hardly listened until she gave me worst case scenarios of what will happen in the future, and then I felt nervous. I didn’t want to end up in hospital or dead. Suddenly taking drugs felt a lot more serious than just a bit of fun. I never thought about the consequences. Then there was also the fear of getting arrested by the police again. I knew it would be very bad news to be caught a second time.

In the end, I agreed that I wanted their help and the nurse looked so thrilled with me, saying this was a big step. She explained everything about my treatment and I started to feel even more anxious. Luckily there wasn’t a long waiting list to start like there would have been if it was a public clinic with free health care. My parents were paying for everything and that’s the only reason I was getting it all so quickly. I would have probably chickened out if they hadn’t admitted me that day, so probably it was for the best.

You’ll be fine, honey, Mum told me as I said goodbye to them. This won’t be easy but it’s for your own good. I only want you to get better.

We’ll come to visit you once a week, promised Dad, and we’ll phone to check up on you.

I felt a little sad that they wouldn’t be around, but I had to do this alone and they had work commitments. I had to grow up, be brave and manage on my own. I was nearly seventeen after all; I shouldn’t keep being so reliant on my parents anymore.

Mum hugged me before leaving and cried a little, then the nurse called me through and they had to go. I was given a tour of the rehab clinic and it was a really nice place considering why I was there. I knew I was really lucky to be staying in a posh, private centre instead of a crappier, public one. I had my own bedroom and

en-suite bathroom, which looked like a four star hotel room.

There was a big lounge for everyone to use downstairs and a gym with all kinds of work out machines and weights, and a small indoor swimming pool. I liked it there, but it sucked not being allowed to have my mobile or any internet access.

I had felt okay for a few days and thought it was pointless me being there. Then after two weeks, the cravings hit me. I thought I could just ignore them and it would go away eventually, but the withdrawals started and then it turned bad.

If I was home I would have given up at some point and got drugs somehow, but I was stuck there. I got really ill and even started to think I actually needed drugs just to feel better again. Luckily there were no drugs I could fall back on and I just had to get through it.

I went through hell and got depressed, but luckily the nurses were right and I slowly started to feel better and began to work through my addiction. I never wanted to see drugs again after going through that much coming off. I distracted myself by going to the gym each day, working out and doing weights, finishing off with a relaxing swim. My body got used to being without drugs and I almost started to feel like my old self again. I was released after a few weeks and finally got back home.

The clinic arranged for me to have support after leaving, to make sure I could cope and not get into drugs again. I never hung out with any of my friends again and deleted their text messages until they eventually gave up. I started college even though I hated it. The lessons made me feel thick, but the tutors were nice and understanding, going through everything slowly until I made progress.

The only thing I looked forward to was going to the local gym. I started a membership, and since my social life had gone downhill I spent most of my evenings and weekends there. Pretty soon I was strong with muscles I was really proud of.

What career do you want to pursue when you leave college? Mum asked me one night over dinner.

I dunno, I answered unsurely. I always wanted to be a police officer… That was until I screwed up and ended up at rehab.

I’m unsure whether they’ll let you enrol for police training, Dad informed me. The reprimand they gave you will show up on your CRB check.

I felt devastated.

Surely they could let him work in the office, answering phone calls? Mum asked.

I sighed. I didn’t want a boring office job. I wanted action and I’d blown my chances of getting my