Star:Temper.
Conor:She was christened that?
Star:Not everyone’s christened, you Irish heathen.
Conor:So that’s on her birth certificate.
Star:Nah. Her full name’s Temperance but she’s about as temperate as a Category 7 hurricane.
Star:So… with Temper on the case, plus you, me, and Cin too, maybe we can uncover something?
Conor:You’re sure we can trust her?
Star:We can. She hates Reinier almost as much as I do. She’s a better person than me or Cin though. A real soldier.
Conor:Isn’t it unwise to trust her?
Star:She views the current leadership as enemies of the state, Conor. Who better to help us take them down?
Conor:Fair point. Send me the manifesto?
Star:Sure.
Conor:I’d like to look at the info you have for the email and password too, please.
Star:I’ll send it over as well.
Star:Conor?
Conor:Hmm?
Star:Thank you.
9
CONOR
“Who are you?”
Black clucked her tongue. “We don’t really have time for this. Star would probably have told you I was called Temper.”
My brows rose as the text conversation Star and I had about a woman called Temper rammed me in the frontal lobe. “You’re related to Dead To Me?”
To none of my brothers would I admit that I croaked out those words.
She winked. “First cousins.”
Though I was relieved to know that she was on ‘Team Star,’ I was still confused as fuck.
Reinier groaned and a puddle of piss soon joined him on the floor.
Grimacing and taking a step back, I demanded, “What the hell is going on? Is this a trap?”
“Not for you,” she drawled then kicked out her foot and aimed it at the director’s head. “God, I’ve been wanting to do that for a fucking lifetime.” She clicked her neck and bounced on her toes before slamming him in the side like he was a football she wanted soaring through the goalposts at MetLife Stadium.
Brow still furrowed, I rasped, “This has to be a setup?” Either that or a goddamn joke.
“Meh, less of a setup. More a fortuitous chain of events.”