Playing for the Dark (HIGH STAKES SYNDICATE #1) by Tilly Ridge EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Tilly Ridge
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 8 MB
- Price: Free
Ellinor
“Put the fucking bottle down!” I yell at Randy, one of our regulars. I’ve
worked at Shenanigans for over three years, and it is one thing after
another with these customers. Shenanigans is nothing more than a
hole-in-the-wall bar, but we don’t put up with this absurd shit.
Randy doesn’t listen. He pulls his arm back and hits this gorgeous,
tattooed man upside the head with a glass beer bottle. The man doesn’t
flinch, and before I can blink, he has Randy on his stomach on the floor,
pushing his booted foot between his shoulder blades.
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The hot man is bent in
half, hissing something into Randy’s ear, and the hair on the back of my
neck stands. He speaks in a casual tone like he’s talking to any regular
person, but the underlying venom in his voice is lethal. It should concern
me, but here I am, gawking in awe. That was hot as shit to watch.
I overheard some of their conversation as I was passing by, but Randy
just seemed to be annoying him. I can tell this guy doesn’t come in here
often. He ordered top-shelf bourbon, and if that doesn’t scream money, I
don’t know what does. Hell, I had to open the bottle because no one had
ever requested it.
“They should’ve never re-signed your sorry ass anyways, dropping that
ball last sea—” That’s all Randy gets out before the man with the now wild
eyes picks his boot up and slams it down on Randy’s neck.
“Randy, I would shut the fuck up if I were you,” I dole out. I’m so tired
of this shit. It’s honestly the worst part of bartending; the dumb, drunk fucks
that don’t know when to keep their mouths shut.
This man grinds his jaw, spitting out at Randy, “Apologize to her for
littering her floor up.” Randy doesn’t immediately answer. “NOW!” Why is
that hot?
Randy starts to apologize, “I’m sorry, Ellie. I just wanted an autogr—”
“No need to explain your childish behavior,” he spits out. “Now, get the
fuck out, and I don’t want to see you in here ever again.” My panties are
going to melt off if he keeps this up.
This really was Randy’s last straw. I’m going to text Charlie, the owner,
and let him know. But it’s not like Charlie is ever here anyway.
He kicks Randy over, snags him up by the collar of his shirt like a rag
doll, and throws him out the door without a second look. This man is a
walking wet dream. He’s the epitome of eye candy, but that’s just Vegas life
for you. He stands at least six foot three with chestnut skin and dark brown
spiral curls that fall perfectly above his eyebrows and hang just over his
ears.
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