Page 23 of Bodyguard By Night

“Getting better now.” I stabbed my straw into the melted ice. “So, what’s with the grumpy best friend?”

“Ransom is…Ransom.”

Clay leaned back and laced his fingers over his middle. “He’s figuring stuff out. I assumed he would go back to the private sector when I moved back to Turnbull, but he seems to like it here.”

“Private sector?”

“Yeah. He’s done a few bodyguard details since he got out of the Army. A few diplomats in DC, the mayor for a while in Manhattan, but he didn’t really like him. Didn’t last long.”

“I’m shocked.”

Clay laughed. “He’s a good guy. When he gets bored with Turnbull, he’s got options or he can work for his family. Don’t think he’s about that life though. He’d rather wear Kevlar than a suit.”

I stared down at my pink margarita. “Wow.”

So, did that mean he was rich like Clay? Not that I was asking, but holy shit. The stoic forcefield made a lot more sense.

Then I noticed the fifty on the table.

He was still a jerk.