James
James eyed the Mexican coldly and noted, not so surprisingly, every one of them had firearms in their hands, pointing the dangerous weapons at him and his friends, ready for action.
The four billionaires didn’t bat an eyelid at the fact that they were severely outnumbered.
Carlos entered the scene at that moment. Short, stocky, bald-headed, and with a thick black moustache, he was oozing confidence over where this eerie nighttime conference was heading. He was fucking positive he was going to get his way—a piece of the real estate pie in Sin City where his cartel was so going to soar like a fucking eagle.
“Bienvenido! Bienvenido!” He chuckled, his arms spread out. “I can’t believe you actually came because of a boy.” He laughed out merrily. “And all four of you too.”
Matt couldn’t stand the sarcastic greeting and growled out, “Where the fuck is Andy?”
