Grievous (Wanted Men #5) - Nancy Haviland Page 0,1

given her the Benjamin and told her if he needed her services again, he’d find her.

She made five hundred dollars as the enforcer’s lookout before her foster mom had come home from work one night to find her husband beating his bologna at the foot of Yasmeen’s bed while she slept. Of course, the pig’s behavior had been Yasmeen’s fault, and she’d been tossed back into the system. Expected.

The framed photo of the deceased that sat on an easel by the door caught Yasmeen’s eye. She studied Markus’s smiling face. The guy had been gorgeous, and a wonderful person, or so she’d been hearing. She hadn’t known him personally, but from the talk that had floated around the church, she now wished she had. His poor brother. Left alone. Guess that was one good thing about not having a family; never having to say goodbye. How did one move on in life without them? This funeral was only the third she’d ever attended, and none of the deceased had she known beyond a hello. In Markus’s case, she hadn’t even had that.

She cast her gaze further out, searching for the older brother. Again. Shit. She’d done this too many times this afternoon. She was beginning to feel as if she should be following around behind him with her chin in her hands and her eyelashes fluttering every few seconds.

But even as her cheeks heated, she skimmed by man after man until her attention was captured by a pair of pain-filled amber eyes she’d once stared into while she orgasmed to the point of nearly passing out. He was looking at her. Dammit. She wished he’d stop doing that. She blinked. He didn’t. And as it did every time he had her in his sights, something deep in her eager body responded with a rippling heat. Desire in its purest most potent form.

Flashing what she hoped was a sympathetic yet unaffected smile, she turned away and went to place her still full glass of Ginger Ale on the bar—her go-to because the pale bubbly soda resembled champagne and made it look as if she belonged with these people sipping it after burying a man. Staying close to the walls, she aimed for the most unapproachable person in the room. Sorin Arcos. Most people steered clear of the well-dressed but perpetually glowering meathead; Yasmeen liked him. He was quiet, and he watched his boss’s back with an intensity she found endearing. Made her feel a little less of a loser for watching the same man’s ass in a similar way.

“Excuse me.”

She stalled when a blond man a few years older than her stepped into her path. Through her impatience, she adopted a pleasant smile, yet another face she’d perfected to hide her distaste of rich, pushy collectors trying to rob underpaid, starving artists. “Yes?”

“I saw you speaking with Brad a few minutes ago. Are you with his firm?”

No clue who Brad was, so that must mean she wasn’t with whatever firm this guy was referring to. She shook her head. “No. Sorry.” She went to move around him, but he stepped to the side to block her.

“Are you doing business with Merker & Phillips? Or maybe you’re with Fane Enterprises…?”

If the guy looked at her modest cleavage one more time, she was going to backhand him. “No, I’m with neither.” Her tone was considerably cooler. “And before you ask, I’m not associated with anyone here. Excuse me.”

He seemed to relax. “I knew it. My buddy wasn’t sure, but my radar went off the minute I saw you. Everyone knows for a fact Fane is unattached, so he had to have hired you to play arm candy. I saw a few others approach you and was damn happy to see you’re still taking cards.”

Her blood pressure went up with every word out of his mouth, but, to prevent a scene, she kept her lips sealed and went to brush by him. He had the balls to put a hand on her hip.

“Did Fane book you for the whole day?” he asked quietly. “If not, my buddy and I will gladly offer double whatever the going rate is for a few hours of your time.”

And there it was. A flat-out offer to hire her for sex. Adrenaline punched into her system as she looked down at herself. What the hell was it about her sedate black dress that made him think she was a prostitute? What? Because she was here alone and had accepted