Page 30 of The Bodyguard

There was more, but he was smiling at something on his Instagram.

I stopped talking and waited for him to notice.

After a long pause, he looked up. “What was that last one?”

I quoted myself: “‘Establish a code word to indicate all is okay.’”

“What’s the code word?”

I decided on the spot. “The code word is ‘ladybug.’”

Jack dropped his shoulders. “Could we do something a little more badass? Maybe ‘cobra’? Or ‘beast mode’?”

“The client doesn’t get to choose the code word.”

Clients chose the code words all the time.

But that’s what you get for texting while I’m talking.

Jack frowned. “How am I supposed to remember all those rules?” he asked next.

“Read the handbook,” I said. “Many times. With a highlighter.”

It’s possible my tone was a little sanctimonious.

Jack set down his phone with a sigh. “Look,” he said. “I won’t be going to clubs or restaurants—or meeting with strangers at unknown locations. I’ll just be staying home—or going with my mother to her doctor’s appointments.” He sighed. “I will also… under duress… make a few trips out to my parents’ ranch, but God willing, those visits will be short and rare. And that’s it. I’m not here to have fun, or make trouble, or get assassinated. I’m just here to be a good son and help out my mom.”

“Great,” I said. “That makes our job easier.”

He started to pick his phone back up.

I added, “I just need to collect fingerprints, a handwriting sample, and a vial of blood, and we can call it a day.” I was forgetting the Very Personal Questionnaire. But I was doing pretty well, all things considered.

“A vial of blood?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m trained in phlebotomy.” Then I glanced down at his forearms. “And you’ve got veins like firehoses, anyway.”

He put his arms behind his back. “What do you need blood for?”

“Basic bloodwork. And to confirm your type.”

Now he was blinking in disbelief. I enjoyed shocking him a little.

This was way better than being the maid.

“Your assistant filled in your blood type on the form as AB negative,” I said, “and, if that’s confirmed, you’re lucky, because that’s my blood type, too.”

“Why does that make me lucky?”

“We always like to keep at least one person on the team who can act as a donor for our principal,” I said, pulling out the rubber tourniquet and snapping it. “So you might’ve just met your own personal blood bank.”