EGAN
He sat under the thatched roof, blue water all around, and even below his feet, but the Columbian sun was merciless.
He could not wait to be done and out of here. This suffocating heat.
“Eat. Eat, my friend.” Don Hulio said from across the table.
Egan nodded at his assistants and a few of his mafia brothers that followed him here, to dig in.
He did feel like eating.
He wiped his face. He wished Sam was here.
The people around the long table ate heartily while he smoked and smoked, thinking of Primrose.
Why had he cared yesterday? The feeling he had yesterday had been more than just jealousy of another man touching his property.
The bastard had touched her literally everywhere in the guise of crying.
He frowned. What sort of man cried in public? Disgusting.
But his heart
