Twisted with Chaos
A CASH BAR NOVEL
Hayley Faiman
Hayley Faiman Books, LLC
Twisted with Chaos
Copyright © 2019 by Hayley Faiman
All rights reserved.
Cover Designer: Pink Ink Designs. Cassy Roop. http://www.pinkinkdesigns.com
Editor: My Brother’s Editor. Ellie McLove. http://www.mybrotherseditor.net
Proofreading: iScream Proofreading Services. Rosa Sharon.
http://www.iscreamproofreading.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Visit my website at : http://hayleyfaiman.com
ISBN: 9781095297490
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Contents
Other Titles By Hayley Faiman
Stay Connected
About the Author
PROLOGUE
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
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
Spiked with Desire: Notorious Devils
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
EPILOGUE
Special Thanks
Other Titles By Hayley Faiman
MEN OF BASEBALL SERIES
Pitching for Amalie (Men of Baseball #1)
Catching Maggie (Men of Baseball #2)
Forced Play for Libby (Men of Baseball #3)
Sweet Spot for Victoria (Men of Baseball #4)
RUSSIAN BRATVA SERIES
Owned by the Badman (Russian Bratva #1)
Seducing the Badman (Russian Bratva #2)
Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva #3)
Living for the Badman (Russian Bratva #4)
Tempting the Badman (Russian Bratva #5)
Protected by the Badman (Russian Bratva #6)
Forever my Badman (Russian Bratva #7)
Betrothed to the Badman (Russian Bratva #8)
Chosen by the Badman (Russian Bratva #9)
Bought by the Badman (Russian Bratva #10)
Collared to the Badman (Russian Bratva #11)
NORTORIOUS DEVILS SERIES
Rough & Rowdy (Notorious Devils #1)
Rough & Raw (Notorious Devils #2)
Rough & Rugged (Notorious Devils #3)
Rough & Ruthless (Notorious Devils #4)
Rough & Ready (Notorious Devils #5)
Rough & Rich (Notorious Devils #6)
Rough & Real (Notorious Devils #7)
CASH BAR SERIES
NOTORIOUS DEVILS SPIN-OFF
Laced with Fear (Cash Bar #1)
Chased with Strength (Cash Bar #2)
Flamed with Courage (Cash Bar #3)
Blended with Pain (Cash Bar #4)
Twisted with Chaos (Cash Bar #5)
Mixed with Trouble (Cash Bar #6) - Fall 2019
SAVAGE BEAST MC
UnScrew Me (Savage Beast MC #1)
UnBreak Me (Savage Beast MC #2)
UnChain Me (Savage Beast MC #3) - Summer 2019
ZANETTI FAMIGLIA SERIES
Becoming the Boss (Zanetti Famiglia #1) - May 2019
UNFIT HERO SERIES
CONVICT (Unfit Hero #1)
HERO (Unfit Hero #2) – Summer 2019
FORBIDDEN LOVE SERIES
Personal Foul (Forbidden Love #1)
Kinetic Energy (Forbidden Love #2)
ESQUIRE BLACK DUET
Discovery (Esquire Black Duet #1)– Summer 2019
Appeal (Esquire Black Duet #2)– Summer 2019
STANDALONE SERIES
Royally Relinquished: A Modern Day Fairy Tale
Stay Connected
WEBSITE – hayleyfaiman.com
FACEBOOK —https://www.facebook.com/authorhayleyfaiman
READER GROUP—https://www.facebook.com/groups/433234647091715/
GOODREADS — https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10735805.Hayley_Faiman
AMAZON — amazon.com/author/hayleyfaiman
NEWSLETTER— http://eepurl.com/b5a_1v
BOOKBUB—https://www.bookbub.com/authors/hayley-faiman
About the Author
As an only child, Hayley Faiman had to entertain herself somehow. She started writing stories at the age of six and never really stopped.
Born in California, she met her now husband at the age of sixteen and married him at the age of twenty in 2004. After all of these years together, he’s still the love of her life.
Hayley’s husband joined the military and they lived in Oregon, where he was stationed with the US Coast Guard. They moved back to California in 2006, where they had two little boys. Recently, the four of them moved out to the Hill Country of Texas, where they adopted a new family member, a chocolate lab named Optimus Prime.
Most of Hayley’s days are spent taking care of her two boys, going to the baseball fields for practice, or helping them with homework. Her evenings are spent with her husband and her nights—those are spent creating alpha book boyfriends.
Mental illness leaves a huge legacy, not just for the person suffering it, but for those around them.
Lysette Anthony
PROLOGUE
ROXANNE
FIFTEEN YEARS OLD
The doctor stares at me from across his desk. It’s dark wood, heavy looking and sturdy. I wonder if it would hold my weight while he fucked me against it? He’s hot. Well, in an older uptight kind of way. Not that I’m picky, I’m not. I just want to fuck and be fucked.
None of the other girls at school are like me, they say there’s something wrong with me. Something that makes me do things, like to fuck boys I don’t know in the bathroom between classes. I also fuck men whenever I can get a chance. It doesn’t matter, younger, older, as long as they’re inside of me, that’s all that I care about. It feels good, and that’s what I want—to feel good.
“Mrs. Tucker, I’m sorry,” he begins. I lift my eyes from the edge of the desk where I’m envisioning this doctor fucking me, and I look up to him.
“Sorry?” my mom asks.
“Your daughter, Roxanne. I’m sorry, Roxanne,” he rasps, swallowing so fucking loud that I can hear it from across the room.
M
y mother reaches across the armrest and wraps her fingers around mine. She brought me here. I haven’t slept in over a week and she’s worried. I tried to tell her that it was fine, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She never listens to me. She’s convinced I’m broken on the inside. Maybe I am, maybe that’s why this hot doctor is sorry.
“Roxanne has Schizoaffective Disorder,” he announces.
I blink, the words he says sounding scary. My mother’s hand moves to my forearm and squeezes tightly, her nails digging into my flesh. I hear the hitch in her breath, then feel her eyes on me. “What happens now? What pills does she need to take to be fixed?” she asks through a tight jaw.
The doctor glances from her to me, then back to her again. “Roxanne will never get better, Mrs. Tucker,” he explains, his words like a punch to my gut, causing my breath to whoosh out of me.
My mother releases my arm before she stands to her feet. “Prescribe her whatever you need to, I don’t care what it is. Fix her,” she whisper-shouts.
“Mrs. Tucker, I don’t think you understand what I’m saying,” the doctor says, his voice gentle and surprisingly calm.
I should be scared. I have a feeling what he’s saying is really, really important, but I don’t feel anything on the inside past horny and maybe a little craving for some booze. He continues to talk, his mouth moving, his eyes looking at me sadly.
My gaze flits around the room, unable to focus on any one thing, my attention is completely gone. My leg begins to bounce, my restlessness beginning to take over. I want to move, I need to walk around. Sitting here in this stuffy office is making me feel sick.
Go. Run. Hurry. They’re going to take you away. They’re going to hurt us, a voice whispers in the back of my head. My leg begins to bounce a little faster with the desire to flee. They’re going to hurt me, hurt us. They’re going to take me away, I just know it.
“…her father. You have to give her something,” my mother pleads with the doctor.
I glance from her to him, then back to her again. My skin feels itchy, I want to scratch it off, but more than that I want to move. I want out of here. Out of this room, out of this office. I know what will happen to me next. I know what is awaiting me. I’m going to be locked up like my dad.
Standing, I turn around and I run. I can hear the doctor and my mother calling after me, but I’m not about to sit around while my mom locks me up and throws away the key like she did to my dad.
Fuck that.
I have too much life to live.
HOUSTON
TWENTY YEARS OLD
The sound of the explosion around me rattles my entire body to my core. Pinching my eyes closed, I let out a blood-curdling scream as I watch men fall around me. When the noises stop, only then do I slowly open my eyes.
I feel like a pussy.
Licking my lips, I taste nothing but sweat and sand. Looking around, all I see is wreckage. I glance at the ground to my right and my body tightens at the sight. It’s an arm. There is debris laying everywhere, the closer I look, the more body parts that I see.
I sink down to my knees, unsure of how I’ve survived without a scratch. I let out a scream, it’s loud, deafening and hurts even my own eardrums. I feel like I’m losing my breath and then something shakes me and my eyes open, again.
Looking around, I smell ammonia, the room is dark, and I realize that I’m in a hospital. The door flies open and a nurse walks in, her eyes wide and panicked.
“Are you okay, Mr. Bryant?” she asks. Her voice is sweet, she doesn’t belong here in this hell. Inhaling a deep breath, I finally look up into her warm green eyes.
“Where am I? Why are you in this hellhole desert?” I almost demand, my voice rough and scratchy.
She smiles, reaching for my arm and gently squeezing me. I can feel tubes attached to the arm she’s touched, my eyes drift down and I see I’m connected to an IV of some kind. “You’re in Germany. Your unit was attacked by a roadside IED. You are the lone survivor, I’m sorry,” she whispers.
My eyes close, my entire body shudders from her words. I think about the men that have become my family over the past year. Men that I respect. Men that I love and men that are fathers, brothers, and sons. Good men. The best. Why I survived I don’t know. I have nobody waiting at home for me. Not a single fucking person. They all had someone. I should have died, not them.
“You sustained some neck and head damage, but it seems as though you’ll make a full recovery. You’re very lucky,” she continues to explain.
Luck.
Luck is bullshit.
I don’t believe in it, not in the slightest.
Closing my eyes, I pretend as if I’m going back to sleep, knowing that I’ll probably never truly sleep again. I need to be alone. I can’t remember everything that happened, but that dream, it’s telling. Everyone was blown the fuck up, and I lived. I shouldn’t have.
ROXANNE
EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD
I inhale a deep breath as I look down at the paperwork in front of me. Sterilization. Something I never thought I would ever have to consider.
“It’s for the best, Roxanne,” my mother urges.
I hold the paper in my hand, my eyes scanning the document. I think about my boyfriend and the fact that he talks about having kids all of the time. He’s twenty, he wants to settle down and start a family as soon as I graduate high school. I’ve been better. I’ve focused on staying in relationships rather than fucking anyone and everyone who crosses my path. I’m trying to be normal.
“What I have, it’s genetic?” I ask the question that I already know the answer to.
The doctor clears his throat, his kind eyes meeting mine. I no longer want him to fuck me the way I did three years ago. Meds help with my impulses, with my snap decisions. They help with my mood swings, too. They also make me feel lethargic all of the time. I have a love-hate relationship with them.
“Most likely. We have no way of knowing if it would skip your children, or not,” he explains, again.
I nod, closing my eyes. I think about the life that I could have had if this disease didn’t plague my brain. Then, I think about my father, who has lived in a facility since I was five years old, never to see life outside of that place again. I don’t want to be like that, and I wouldn’t wish that on my future children. I shake my head, opening my eyes.
Lifting my hand, I sign the paper. I consent to sterilization. At the age of eighteen, I know for certain I will never have my own child, I’ll never be able to. I will also never pass this burden on to someone else. I will stop it, in its tracks.
“You did the right thing,” my mother coos.
Looking back at her, I wonder if she believes that. She’s never acted as if she’s really loved me. I’m her burden, she’s made it clear. Maybe now she’ll finally wash her hands of me. I have no doubt that she will.
“Do you really care?” I blurt out.
Her head jerks and she looks over to the doctor, a nervous twitch to her lips when she does. It’s her tell. I laugh softly. She licks her lips, shifting her gaze from the doctor, moving her eyes back to me.
“I care that you won’t bring another human with this sickness, into the world. That you won’t plague a man with a sick child the way your father plagued me with you.”
“That’s what I thought,” I say with a nod.
We don’t speak again, in fact, it’s the last real conversation we have with one another. After I recover from my surgery, I leave my mother’s house, I run away and never look back.
CHAPTER ONE
HOUSTON
I watch her walk into the bar. There is something off with her, she’s a little fucking crazy but fuck me, I want the bitch just the same. Her eyes look wild, bright, and nothing like the listless gaze she had just a couple days ago. She no longer seems depressed, instead, she looks fucking manic.
I’m taking her tomorrow to get what she needs. She knows she’s fucked, and can’t get better unless she gets the proper help.
This is her life, something she will live with until the day she dies. Her disorder will never go away, all she can do is treat her symptoms. I understand that, I understand that more than she’ll ever know.
Her eyes find mine, and a slow smile appears on her lips, causing my dick to twitch. Slowly, her hips sway as she walks toward me. I can see her ample cleavage on display, the closer she walks toward me. It dips lower than I would allow my woman to wear in public, but she’s made it clear that she thinks she’s not mine.
She is mine, though. She just doesn’t realize it yet, she will, soon. I lick my lips as my eyes travel down her long legs, her skirt is way too fucking short to be considered decent. The bitch has curves for fucking days. However, she looks better naked than she does in clothes, and I can’t think of anything but those thick thighs wrapped around my hips right now.
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