Page 36 of The Bodyguard

But Kelly flung her arm toward the photo of Jack Stapleton still lingering on the whiteboard. “Who cares?”

Was it unethical? Ethics were a little hard to gauge in this business. The thing about private security was, it had exploded in recent years—partly because the world was more dangerous for rich people and partly because those same people were more paranoid. Agents came from all backgrounds with different kinds of training—ex-military, ex-police, even ex-firefighters, like Doghouse. Most agents freelanced. Nothing was standardized. It was like the Wild West, really—with people doing anything they thought they could get away with. It meant more freedom, but also more risk—and a lot more shenanigans.

Ultimately, we were only accountable to the clients. We had to keep them happy, and for the most part, we did whatever they asked. I once had a client ask me to cover his $7,000 bar bill. I once went skydiving with a Belgian princess. I once spent a night keeping an eye on a client’s panther.

Was this Jack Stapleton thing that much weirder?

You served at the pleasure of the client, is what I’m saying. At least, if you wanted to get paid.

It’s likely everybody in that conference room saw the situation clearly except for me. If Jack Stapleton wanted a pretend girlfriend, he got a pretend girlfriend. And if I wanted to work for Jack Stapleton, then that’s what I had to be.

“The point is,” Glenn went on, “it’s such a great opportunity for you.”

“And it’s money for you.”

“It’s money for all of us.”

I was still shaking my head. “We can’t do a proper job under these parameters.”

“It’ll be harder, yes.” Glenn conceded. “But keep in mind: His threat level is almost white.”

I gave him a look. “It’s yellow.”

Kelly jumped in. “But a very light yellow. Almost like a lemon sorbet.”

Glenn pointed at Kelly. “Stop naming cutesy shades of threat levels.”

Glenn wasn’t taking me seriously. So I said, “I think you’ve got dollar signs in your eyes.”

It was a test. To see how he’d react.

I told you I could read faces, right? By the way his jaw tightened, I could read that Glenn was insulted. That’s when I started to cave.

He genuinely thought we could handle this.

“Do you think I’m just going to throw us all into the fire?” Glenn said. “Everybody’s reputation’s riding on this—especially mine. I’m saying it’s doable. I’m saying there are strategies for making it work.”

I sighed. “Like what, exactly?”

“A remote backup team, for one. Cutting-edge surveillance tech. Placing you as the eyes and ears on the inside with full twenty-four-hour backup teams on the outside.”

I guess I could kind of see his point.

Then Glenn upped the ante.

“The point is,” he said, “if you want any chance of getting the London position, you’re going to get on board.”

“So I’m doing this whether I like it or not.”

“Pretty much. But it would be nicer if you’d like it.”

I looked around the room. Everyone was watching me. Why was I making such a fuss?

“How about this,” Glenn said next, both of us aware that he had all the power. “Do this without complaining, and I’ll send you wherever you want for your next assignment. You can take your pick. The Korea thing’s back on. You want it? It’s yours.”

I’d been waiting for another Korea assignment ever since the last one got canceled. “I do want Korea,” I said.

“Done,” Glenn said. “Six weeks in Seoul. Endless bowls of black bean noodles.”