13
Ireland
Present day
Whoever looked at his navy-blue eyes and blond, curly hair framing his elegantly carved features, wearing trendy clothes, would have thought they had encountered a self-centered fashion model.
But on closer inspection, Johansen Kinsella was an intelligent, cunning, wealthy man, who appreciated the good things in life.
The man sitting in the dark knew that. He had been the same, once. Turning from the sideboard, a small glass of amber spirits in his hand, he asked, “Join me?”
Johansen accepted the Waterford crystal glass from the man, sniffing it before sipping. “Slàinte.”
His brother raised a silver cup with yagé. “Peace.”
The aged cognac slid down Johansen’s throat like liquid fire. “Why Martell, Andrew?”
“Why not?” he asked, not surprised his brother easil
