by Nancy Haviland
Wanted Men, #0.5
Publication Date: November 21, 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Organized Crime, Mafia, Romance
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2z4V3fB
Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/2hPXxLp
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2z60xqm
Amazon AUS: http://amzn.to/2hPYcN5
Revisit Nancy Haviland’s bestselling mafia series with this prequel novel featuring a Russian mobster who is forced to put vengeance aside in order to please the Pakhan he calls father.
He sees her. He falls. He proves it by killing for her in a room full of his associates.
Now he’ll take her home and try to convince her a love that descends like a hammer is one that can last a lifetime.
She sees him. She stumbles. She proves her sophistication by fainting, then comes to in a Russian mobster’s compound.
Now she’ll protect herself while experiencing all the things she’s been denied her entire life.
**This novel is a prequel to A Love of Vengeance (Wanted Men #1) but can be read as a standalone.**
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He showed her rooms that actually looked lived in, a pool so inviting she’d itched to dive into the calm blue waters, and, finally, a large kennel that housed four Cane Corsos in a variety of sizes and colors. The dogs were quiet until Lukas whistled. Then they went bananas, barking, butts wagging, jumping against the fence. He left them to it as he spoke to a man with a bushy salt-and-pepper mustache and a big smile. She didn’t know what they talked about because they did it in Russian.
Once they were alone again, Lukas spoke one sharp word, still in Russian, and the dogs settled immediately. Then their owner proceeded to feel her up in front of them. He ran his hands over her shoulders and down her arms. Brought each of her hands to his mouth to kiss her palms. He gripped her hips and slid his long fingers down until he almost reached her knees. While he was bent, he gave her shoulder a nip that made her smile through her enflamed skin and excitedly thumping heart.
“What are you doing?”
Ugh. Her voice had come out soft and lover-like. Not sexy and fucky-like as it should have done. Come on, Dale, you can do better!
He pulled her against his front and rubbed his chest on her back, and a growing erection across her ass. “Making sure they know you’re mine. We’re only visiting with four of the ten we have, but they can still be a handful.”
When he was done, he ran his hand in a possessive swipe over one of her butt cheeks before opening the gate, and for the next twenty minutes, Dale had to suffer through watching Mr. Murdery act like a big kid as he played with a small pack of ferocious guard dogs. Once he was sure she wouldn’t be their meal, he allowed her to sink to the floor so she could also get mauled and slobbered on.
As they left the kennel, she wasn’t feeling so confident in her ability to remain distanced. They stopped in something of a mudroom to wash up before returning to the house via a brick path that was sheltered on either side by twelve-foot walls.
Their next stop was a kitchen with quartz countertops, stainless steel appliances, and fresh herb plants sitting in front of the windows.
Lukas stood next to an island that boasted three sinks and a mountain of fresh produce on one end. He pulled out a carved stool and waited for her to slide on before turning away.
“Excuse me for a minute.”
She wordlessly watched him walk out an arched exit that didn’t have a door attached. Once he was gone, she tried to reassure herself that she could do this. Just because he was all sorts of attractive, it didn’t mean he was going to get inside her. She wouldn’t allow it. She knew how to protect herself when it really mattered.
The windows across the way had no curtains or blinds, which afforded Dale a perfect view of two men strolling by a fountain in the beautifully lit gardens. They wore all black and had gun belts like the ones cops wore. But, unlike a typical officer on a street corner who carried only a revolver, these two had semi-automatics hanging over their shoulders.
It is quieter than usual because many of our men are at the hospital watching over my father. He was shot in the head last night. Samuel and I were there.
A shudder rocked her, and she sat up straighter, tucking her hands under her thighs. “Doesn’t matter,” she murmured as something started to shake deep in her chest. “None of this matters to you. It’s not your business. If he gets hurt or killed, it’s his life, and it won’t affect you at all. You’re gonna be the perfect house guest, prove you’re not a rat, then go. End of.” She wouldn’t feel afraid or sorry or sad or happy. She would be horny but dead inside. That was it.
Funny how the simple plan sounded like the most difficult one she’d ever made.
ABOUT NANCY HAVILAND
Nancy Haviland is an award-winning, bestselling romance (suspense, erotic, contemporary) author who writes about her possessive alpha males and their obsessively loved women from her home in Southwestern Ontario. Her greatest loves are her family and that ever-present cooling cup of coffee at her elbow.
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