Saul stood in front of the living room windows, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a stout cigar in the other, its endless toggle signaling his rising agitation.Rio sank onto the leather sofa. Hell, yes, she knew something. She knew how to kiss. She knew how to make him forget his own name. She knew how to make him contemplate—actually fucking consider—doing things he had no business even fantasizing about in this situation.The sea outside had grown angry in the last few hours, and thick, gray clouds hung swollen over the steel water and gathering whitecaps, which went right along with Rio’s piss-poor mood. “She doesn’t know anything,” Rio said. “She’s simply trying to find a way to irritate you. If you ignore her, she’ll get bored.”“Sounds like something’s gotten under your skin today, amigo.” Saul took a long pull on the cigar. The gray tip flared to orange and reflected in the window like a beacon from a ship out at sea. “If it were any other woman, I’d agree, she’s playing games, but not this one.
