Twisted hearts twisted i.., p.1
Twisted Hearts (Twisted Intentions), page 1
TWISTED HEARTS
TWISTED INTENTIONS BOOK
BOOK 3
SAVANNAH RYLAN
Copyright © 2023 by Savannah Rylan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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CONTENTS
1. Dalia
2. Dalia
3. Lance
4. Pike
5. Dalia
6. Blade
7. Dalia
8. Lance
9. Dalia
10. Blade
11. Dalia
12. Lance
13. Dalia
14. Pike
15. Pike
16. Lance
17. Blade
18. Pike
19. Blade
20. Dalia
21. Lance
22. Pike
23. Lance
24. Dalia
25. Blade
26. Lance
27. Dalia
28. Pike
29. Blade
Epilogue
More Books by Savannah Rylan
About the Author
1
DALIA
“Goddamn it, Dalia, you make a hell of a blue motorcycle, you know that?”
I peered over my shoulder and tossed one of my many loyal customers a playful wink. “Only for you, handsome.”
He tipped the rest of his glass up. “Two more for the booth over there?”
I spun around and scooped up his drink. “You got a good tip in it for me?”
He grinned. “Don’t I always?”
I dumped the ice out of his cup into the sink. “Give me five minutes and they’ll be up.”
He rapped his knuckles against the bar top. “You’re the best, babe. Thanks.”
I blew him a kiss as he walked away. “I only get this way through you guys!”
“I love it when you say shit like that!”
I barked with laughter and set out piecing together two more drinks for the tipsy duo toward the stage. Every Friday night, we had live music in the bar, and I made sure to work because it wasn’t as if I could sleep through the damned thing. Living above my place of work had its perks. Especially when my boss loved staring at the spread of my hips. I knew what I looked like, a big girl with thick tits and thighs that rubbed together. I knew what kinds of thoughts raced through their minds after a couple of drinks at my bar.
And I most certainly used it to my advantage.
“Hey, luscious!”
I snickered, slapping my rag over my shoulder. “Anyone ever tell you that I hate that nickname, Bryce?”
I sent out the two blue motorcycles with my runner for the evening before yet another loyal customer came belly-upping to my bar.
“You know what I like,” he said.
“Ah, a margarita with a beer tipped up into it?”
“And float me an extra shot of tequila.”
I winked at him and pulled a glass down from the rack above my head. “Sounds like a rough day on the job.”
Bryce snickered. “If only my wife were as intuitive as you are.”
“Maybe she should know your drink order. That might help.”
He barked with laughter, but it almost sounded cynical in its origin. “She can’t even figure out how to put on her lingerie half the time. I don’t think she’ll stand a chance with my drink order.”
“Well, you can always come here.”
He slapped a twenty onto the counter. “That’s why I do. Two drinks, and a tip. Thanks, Dalia.”
I threw the contents of his drink into a blender then blew him a kiss. “Always, Bryce.”
I mean, what the hell was a high school drop-out like myself supposed to do, anyway? Work in a grocery store my entire life? It wasn’t as if anyone would take a chance on my intelligence without at least a G.E.D. And a girl had to pay the bills somehow. I wouldn’t have it any other way, however. The Mule was my home, especially since I lived in the studio apartment just overhead.
I loved this place, and it had accepted all of me from the very beginning.
Which was more than I could say for any physical person in my life.
Including my own mother.
“There you go,” I said, handing Bryce his drink. I slammed the top of the beer bottle against the counter, using my hand to shield the crack as the bottle cap flew off. My customer clapped his hands and whooped, as if he were at a circus or some shit. Then I tipped the bottle up quickly enough to slam it down into the blended mango margarita.
I took one of my stirring spoons, turned it over, and poured a shot of tequila right over the top of the drink.
“Enjoy,” I said with a smile, “and plug your ears.”
He put his hands over his ears and I drew in a deep breath.
“LAAAAAAST CAH-AAAAAALL!”
Deep down inside, I was ready for the night to dwindle down. While I didn’t mind closing, I hated the way my mind raced as the bar dwindled from packed to nothingness. It made me wonder things I didn’t like pondering, like whether or not life had more for me than slinging drinks six times a week just to pay bills. I mean, sure, I had a good thing going with reduced rent upstairs, but it wasn’t as if I didn’t know why. My landlord, who just so happened to own the bar as well, loved staring at the sway of my hips whenever I came or went. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew the way he looked at me. And while my mother always taught me to “use what God gave ya,” I didn’t want to follow in her footsteps.
I didn’t want to prostitute myself for money and luxuries.
Not much for high school dropouts in this world, though.
I don’t know. I did my best to try and not compare myself to my mother. But with her dropping out of high school around the same time I did, it was hard not to. I watched men come and go from our house, leaving scores of money she used to treat us to nicer wardrobes and fancy dinners. I couldn’t blame her, either. She had a kid to take care of and no man in the house. No one to love or care for her. No one to give her a break or come babysit so she could go out and enjoy what it felt like to be someone other than Mom. I loved her despite her flaws and the struggles we had as I grew up, and I’d never fault her for what she had to do to keep a roof over our heads.
I simply wanted something more.
That was all.
“Two glass bottle beers and a whiskey neat.”
The shiver that ricocheted down my spine stiffened my tits against my bra. As I stood there, cleaning the blender I had used to make Bryce’s margarita, the deep, resonant voice held me hostage. I put on my best smile before I placed the blender onto the drying rack. I raised my arms and got them around the crooks of my breasts, pressing them together as I brought my arms back to a normal position. I turned around, slapping my rag once again over my shoulder and came face to face with the man who possessed a voice that could stop God Himself in his tracks.
And as my gaze landed on the man in the leather jacket, it took all I had just to remember to breathe.
“Got a preference for beer?” I asked, nodding toward our beer cooler full of glass bottles.
The jet black hair that contrasted the playful amber eyes of the man standing in front of me had absolutely nothing on the way his shoulders and arms tugged at the leather bindings of his jacket. The damned thing looked like it was crying out for mercy, and when he slid his stare down my body , I took the opportunity to do the same to him, finding the muscles of his chest damn near ripping his black t-shirt off his torso.
“Surprise us,” the man purred.
I tossed him a playful wink. “Coming right up.”
I stepped up to the bar as the man turned his back, and I mindlessly made a whiskey neat, watching him backtrack to a booth. He sat down with two other men who donned the same kind of leather jacket, and I wondered if they were in a club together or some shit. It reminded me of my childhood, honestly. The bike crews rumbling down the street, revving their engines and forgoing their helmets because they didn’t like the way they sat against their necks.
Those men were old as fucking dirt, sure. But Mom never ceased to try and throw herself at them.
After all, a man with toys was a man with money, right?
Ah, life lessons from Mom.
I barely made it through the whiskey neat before I walked over to the beer cooler. I dropped the glass onto a runner’s tray before pulling out two of our finest glass bottle beers: a couple of stouts made locally up the road. I popped their tops and placed them on the tray, and Lisa came up, ready to take the tray from me.
But I waved my hand and picked up the tray myself.
“I got this one. You start cleaning up the tables that aren’t taken any longer.”
She pointed at me. “On it. I’m ready to get out of here, too.”
With the tray balanced in the palm of my hand, I sauntered toward the men. I swayed my hips a bit deeper and jiggled my tits a bit more as my hair swayed along my shoulders. I arrived at their booth, tossing them playful winks while I divvied out their drinks.
And the entire time, I wondered why the fuck they hadn’t come in earlier.
I could have gotten them to buy drinks from me all night.
“All right, who’s got the whiskey neat?” I as
The guy stuffed into the corner flashed me a set of sea foam green eyes that stole my breath away. “Thanks.”
I put the drink down and slid it toward him. “Then, you two must be the beer guys.”
The man who originally came up to the bar chuckled. “Thanks, doll.”
“Mm, mm, mm,” I hummed as I looked over at the other man. “I hope you enjoy.”
Blond hair and blue eyes were always a classic combination, but the other man’s gaze seemed to sparkle like stars in an endless night sky.
“Thanks, beautiful,” he said with a wink.
I smiled brightly. “Anytime, guys.”
While Ocean Green and Rumble Voice stared at me from over their drinks, the guy tucked in the corner stared way too hard into the top of his whiskey neat. Huh, a bit of a challenge I see. Nothing wrong with that.
“If you need anything else before we close in an hour,” I said, tucking the tray beneath my arm, “you know where to find me.”
“We certainly do,” the man in the corner said, throwing back his entire drink and sliding the glass toward me.
“I’m good for another,” he murmured.
I quirked an eyebrow. “Were you guys not in here when I yelled last call?”
Mr. Luscious Voice crooked an eyebrow. “Is it really last call, though?”
I winked at him. “Depends on how much you want to tip.”
“Would… this be enough?” sea foam asked.
And when I watched him pull a wad of cash out from the breast pocket of his leather jacket, I did my best to keep a lid on it.
Men who carried around money like that were always trouble.
But who didn’t love a spot of trouble every now and again?
“Two beers and another whiskey neat, coming right up,” I said.
2
DALIA
The rush running straight through me as I made those forbidden drinks held me hostage. My heart leapt into my throat. I kept peering around like some mobster in a 90s movie, ready to take on whoever decided to pull a gun on me first.
Damn, I loved those movies growing up.
They were nostalgic for me. Mom loved watching them during the late hours of the night, and I’d lie in my bed down the hallway and listen to her laugh. Listen to her cry. Listen to her quote just about every single line from movies like Scarface and The Godfather trilogy. Badass men had always intrigued her, and I suppose it was a trait she had passed to me.
It was hard to resist a good bad boy every once in a while.
Though, I did my best to set my sights on men who deserved my attention.
“All right,” I whispered as I walked Silent Man’s drink over to the tray I had brought back with me. “Now, let’s get those two—”
“What are you doing?” Lisa asked.
Raquel came up behind me. “That’s a good question. Didn’t you call last call already?”
I thought quickly on my feet. “Had a last-minute set of customers come in. Wanted to make sure they got served before we closed down.”
“You know we’re not supposed to do that,” Lisa said.
I placed the two opened beers down onto the tray. “Did you lock the front door?”
“And the back,” Raquel said.
I picked up the tray. “Then, we have nothing to worry—are you fucking kidding me!?”
“What?” Lisa asked.
When my gaze whipped toward the booth, it was empty. The three men in the leather jackets that had inhabited those seats had simply… vanished.
“No, no, no, no,” I whispered, rushing over to the booth.
“What is it!?” Raquel called out behind me.
It had to be fake. Maybe they had all darted to the bathroom or some shit. Maybe they had been barhopping, and the seal finally broke. But as I placed my tray down, I studied the empty seats. The imprints of where their asses had once been. And when I placed my hand against the indent in one of the cushions, I cursed beneath my breath.
“Motherfuckers,” I hissed.
I sighed heavily as I picked up the tray and headed back to the bar. Despite the indentation of the booth seats, their places were cold. Meaning they had probably gotten up and left the second I turned my back. I slammed the tray down, staring at the three drinks that had managed to keep themselves upright the entire time.
They’d come out of my paycheck, but that feeling had nothing on the fact that those assholes had flirted their way through a free round of drinks.
Teasing me and throwing me for a loop they knew I’d take.
“Goddamn it,” I murmured, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Lisa said.
Raquel squeezed my shoulder. “We’ll take it out of our tips tonight. Split three ways.”
I shook my head and peered at her over my shoulder. “I can’t ask you guys to do that. This is my fuck-up, and I should’ve known better.”
Raquel reached for a beer before Lisa handed me the whiskey neat.
“I think you could use the stronger of the three,” Lisa said.
I heaved a heavy sigh before I took it from her. “Seriously, though. I can’t ask you guys t—”
“Hey,” Raquel said as she came to stand in front of me, right beside Lisa, “you did it for me last time when that entire group ran out on me on my first week. Remember?”
I groaned. “Yes, but—”
“But nothing,” Lisa said before she tipped her beer back. “You’ve always covered our asses, and now we get to repay the favor.”
“Here, here,” Raquel said, holding her beer bottle out.
I relegated myself to their plan before I clinked my glass against it. “Thanks, guys.”
“Anytime,” they both said in unison.
And after slinging back that very strong whiskey neat, I dumped the ice into the sink.
“Let’s close this place down and go get some sleep,” I said.
“Damn straight,” Raquel murmured.
The only good thing about closing down a bar at two in the morning was the monotonous routine of it all. After we shooed out the customers and locked the doors, we got to pull the blinds and put on music to help motivate us to clean. I mopped the floors while Raquel threw the chairs up onto the tables. Lisa washed and sanitized all the glasses we used for tomorrow’s shift. I worked a double starting at noon, and I sure as fuck wasn’t looking forward to it. But with the way those assholes stiffed me, it would give me a chance to recoup that money, and then some.
Maybe I’ll wear that slinky little red top everyone likes so much.
I mean, who the fuck did that? Just came in for a drink and intentionally ordered more before leaving when our backs were turned? It was cowardice. It was the stuff of boys, not men. Yet, I couldn’t get them out of my head. Those bulging muscles and those dazzling sea foam eyes. They held me hostage as I finished locking up and dragged myself upstairs to flop face-first into bed, with that man’s voice echoing off the caverns of my mind.
“Uuuuugh,” I groaned, rolling over in bed.
Part of me wondered if they’d be back. Another part of me wondered if I’d get a second chance to sit in one of their laps. But the rational part of me wanted to curse them up and down the second I laid eyes on them. No one stiffed me and got away with it. Then again, maybe there had been an emergency of some sort. Maybe they’d come back around to pay their opened tab.
But as I laid there, staring up at the ceiling with my eyes growing heavier by the second, I sure as fuck wouldn’t hold my breath for it.
Men who stiffed entire bars for drinks were nothing but cheapskates, and they didn’t deserve my time.
Even by my mother’s standards.
BRRNT! BRRNT! BRRNT! BRRNT! BRRNT!
I rolled over and slammed my hand against my cellphone, turning off the hellish alarm I hated hearing every single morning. It startled me so damn bad that my heart leapt into my throat, but it was the only alarm that ever got me up. Anything else simply lulled me back to sleep, and I couldn’t afford to lose my job.
