Page 19 of Stars in Umbra
Rina elbowed her hard and hissed in warning. ‘I’d curse, but they’re children at the table.’
‘Mo’s an Iccythrian,’ Harlow said, unfazed, cutting up her toddler’s grilled steak with military efficiency. ‘He’s an ex-merc who retired from private army work and was contracted to the Sable Group as a guard. He stood out in a few of their stoushes, so Kainan picked him asThe Osirian’s head bouncer after the Dunian coup. He was magnificent when the crats attacked the Riders during the war.’
‘That’s where I’ve learned of him,’ Rina murmured, recalling mentions of the Iccythrian warrior during the short Dunian seizure of power.
‘Before that, he was a mercenary sniper. From what Kage has told me, he’s a hands-on, experienced, kick ass warrior. He runs a tight security crew. No nonsense, no softness, all teeth. He’s scared off every single hustler who thought they could make a quick credit on the Riders’ turf.’
‘I can imagine. He doesn’t exactly give approachable energy.’
‘Nada,’ Harlow said, licking sauce off her thumb. ‘He’s secretive, he doesn’t talk much, and is scary asfokk, which is what we need for security on any of the Riders’ facilities. Still, he’s a teddy bear under the gruff exterior. He’s also super reliable. Given I now run Sable Manufacturing, I happen to know he’s a weapons expert.’
‘Is he loyal?’ Rina asked.
‘Like a beast. He’d kill for them, for us.’
‘Of more importance, is he in a relationship?’ Sheba drawled. ‘Just asking for a friend.’
Rina exhaled, bracing.
Harlow was about to answer when her five-year-old wriggled off her chair and took off toward the fireworks booth.
With a groan, she stood up, shouted Kage’s name over the music, and jogged after her rogue offspring, with her toddler tucked into her arm.
Sheba sighed. ‘Damn. I freakin’ wanted to know if a certain Mr. Mo is already spoken for.’
Rina let out an exhaled breath laced with disappointment. ‘Woman, why are you so invested?’
‘Because your eyes are dilating as we speak, and the medic in me is concerned you might be under the influence of a cocktail of cortisol, dopamine, and adrenaline. AKA you’re in a state of heightened libido,’ Sheba shot back unfazed.
‘Fokkoff, but I must admit I’m keen to know, too.’
Sheba stretched, slugged back her drink, and stood. ‘Say no more. I shall find out if he’s married.’
‘Please,’ Rina hissed. ‘Do not do what I think you’re about to. Sheba!’
It was to no avail. Sheba was already sauntering toward the bar like she was on a catwalk.
She paused next to Mo, leaned over, way over, and with an affected ease, studied his hand.
He stared at Sheba, eyebrow raised, and Rina could scarcely breathe.
Then her friend rotated, lifted her chin, and shouted across the tent:
‘NADA! YOU’RE GOOD!’
Rina wanted the ground to eat her whole.
She went scarlet, flaming, red-hot tomato as Mo’s head turned.
His eyes locked on hers, framed by his piercings, glinting along the edge of his temple.
A fire of smoke and gilded flame hit her, his stare unblinking.
He sat like some brooding sentinel carved out of obsidian and velvet menace.
One thick, muscled leg stretched out, the other bent, foot hooked onto the stool’s step. His posture was casual, but every angle of him radiated coiled power.
One hand cradled a crystal tumbler of amber whiskey, the other resting on his thigh, fingers long, veins prominent, movement precise.
