Page 33 of The Scribe (Irin Chronicles 1)

Chapter Six

Leo flipped through channels on the television as he ate another massive sandwich Ava had ordered from room service. His accent sounded Russian, but he reminded Ava of a giant happy Labrador with his gold hair and cheerful disposition. They sat in the hotel’s library, which doubled as a lounge. Books lined the walls and a television sat in one corner, streaming international shows from all over the globe. Ava was processing images on her laptop, so Leo had turned on the television.

She’d met her new bodyguard that afternoon after Malachi had called him to meet her in the hotel lobby.

“Who’s this?”

“This is Leo. He’ll be guarding you tonight if you need to go anywhere.” He’d handed over a small slip of paper. “This is his number. You already have mine.”

Ava had turned to Leo. “Hi.”

The blond giant gave her a boyish smile. “Hello, Ms. Matheson.”

Malachi said, “She likes to be called ‘Ava.’ Don’t leave her unguarded; you have my number.”

Then Malachi had turned and walked away without a glance back.

Asshole.

Ava turned to Leo. “Care to come inside? I was just about to order room service because I don’t feel like going out. I’ll buy you dinner since you’re on babysitting duty tonight.”

She saw Malachi pause at the door. She’d never once invited him into the hotel. They always met in the lobby.

“Sure,” Leo said. “Thanks!”

Malachi half-turned, then stopped, meeting her eyes over his shoulder before his narrowed and he spun around again.

“Night, Mal!”

Now she was wishingher silent shadow would return. There was nothing wrong with Leo; he was friendly as a pup, but he exuded energy, not calm, the way Malachi did. His internal voice bounced and jumped, almost always cheerfully, but much louder than Malachi’s did. And though his voice held the same odd resonance, it felt slightly out of tune. All in all, his presence was distracting.

A voice from the television caught her attention.

“What was that?” she asked.

Leo lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“The TV.”

He’d already flipped past the channel. The one he’d stopped on looked like a soap opera set in Topkapi Palace.

“Turn it back.”

“Turn it back to what?”

Ava stood and grabbed the remote.

“Hey!”

Not that. Not that. Not that… There.

“Him.” She pointed at the TV. It was a news program, and an old man was being interviewed on the screen. “That man. What language is he speaking?”

Leo frowned. “That’s Farsi. It’s a Persian program; I’m surprised they even have it at this—”

“No.” Ava shook her head. “I’ve heard Farsi. I’ve been to Iran. That doesn’t sound like Farsi.”

The bodyguard shrugged. “Well, it is. His accent is odd. Let me…” Leo’s voice trailed off as he listened intently. After a few minutes, he said, “He’s Assyrian; that’s why it sounds different. He’s speaking Farsi with an Assyrian accent. They’re interviewing him for a cultural program. It’s just a different part of Iran. The accent is different.”

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