Crossfire by Jessie Kwak

Author:Jessie Kwak [Kwak, Jessie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781946592101
Goodreads: 46289973
Publisher: Jessie Kwak Creative
Published: 2019-06-24T00:00:00+00:00

13

Oriol

Oriol is getting into the groove. His initial estimation of the gig was right — no matter how much standing around there is to do, when you’re in a casino there’s always something to keep your attention. Working as a bodyguard for a casino magnate comes with fantastic people-watching opportunities. Sure, he can get plenty of reading and studying done on a long-haul security job, but there’s also a lot of hours of staring at gray sheetmetal counting rivets or laughing at the same tiny crew’s same unfunny jokes. While Phaera’s been complaining about just how dead business is right now, there’s still a Ganesh in orbit, and there’s still a decent hum along the drag. It’s early afternoon. He can’t imagine what this place must look like on a busy night in peacetime.

Only thing about this gig is, he’s not sure how much longer he can get away with wearing the same suit. He hates to spend money on outfits for a temporary job, but Manu’s suits are too narrow in the hips and shoulders for Oriol to raid his half of the closet. Might be time to torture himself with a shopping trip.

He’s spent the morning trailing Phaera, who — he was right again — never sits still. She’s got a few years on him, but her energy reserves are seemingly boundless. So far they’ve walked half the length of the drag visiting casino owners. Ayisha seems willing to play, and Phaera coaxed her into pledging her loyalty again. But Ibn Rushd at the Aterciopelado wouldn’t budge, and Angeliq at the Horus wouldn’t even see her.

“It’s business,” Ibn Rushd had told her simply. “Acheta makes working with you bad for business.”

He hadn’t offered any other explanation, but Oriol’s learned a thing or two about reading people. Normally when he’s acting as a guard in a meeting like that he’s watching for the moment he has to pull out his weapon. But today he also saw the haggard look in Ibn Rushd’s eyes, the gnawed lips. The frequent glances at the little holo-display of a pair of toddlers playing in a park.

“If you don’t mind me offering, I’d bet Acheta’s threatened his family,” Oriol says as they leave the Aterciopelado. He scans the sparse crowds, scans the rooflines. “I’d rather we take a cab,” he says.

“Sun too hot, Sina?”

“You’re too exposed.”

“Acheta doesn’t get his money if he assassinates me.”

You’re making enemies, Oriol wants to tell her. But she’s heard that from plenty of people in the last few days. She doesn’t need it from him, too. He picks up his stroll to keep up with her brisk walk and keeps an eye on the crowd.

“Ibn Rushd did look like hell,” Phaera says. “I wondered if something was wrong. You have kids, Sina?”

“No, ma’am. You?”

She laughs and waves a hand down the drag to where the Lorelei’s cascading holographic waterfall is washed out and ethereal under the hot midday sun. “I have two. The Table and the Lorelei. Tell me what you think about Ibn Rushd.

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