070

Caesar salad. That made sense, I supposed. In my head, it seemed like cops would eat something with more protein. I guess you didn't keep a body like Louisa Barbour's wolfing down double quarter pounders for lunch. She was a skinny little thing. Fit, yes, but not a lot of meat on her. A shame. With a face like that, she could have broken some hearts. More of them, anyway.

Instead, it looked like the one heart she was most focused on seemed very much intact. That felt good, knowing I'd patched things up between my two lunchmates. Of course, it was only because of me that they'd had their quarrel to begin with. Nothing like ordering your bodyguard to forgive and forget to do the trick. At least when your bodyguard followed any order you gave her. Not that I'd gone full "obey my every command" level of compliance, but having her hyper-focused on making me happy had nearly the same effect. Better yet, it preserved her autonomy, obviating the need to micromanage her.

Taylor, Abbie and Ca