I could attempt to soothe her and give her reassuring words, but I suck at that shit, and I’m not her babysitter. I’m her close protection. My job is to keep her alive. Nothing more. If she wants to soothe herself, she needs to call her shrink.

My phone beeps, and I take it out. It’s a text from Leanne. She’s a friend, nothing more, but she loves sending me risqué texts or filthy pictures of herself. The old adage that men and women can’t be friends is bull because we have been for years. I’m not interested in her that way, and the feeling is mutual. Her type is skinny, long haired, into poetry and music, and often fucked up and bad news. The amount of rock star wannabes she’s been through is impressive.

From my side of the equation, Leanne is like a female me. She’s inked, pierced, hard as fuck, muscled, and no nonsense. I love her, like I love my buddies from serving, but I have no sexual interest in her. One night, drunk, bored, and out of fucks, we decided to give it a try. After a few minutes of weird kisses and mortifying fondling, we both cracked up and then cracked two more beers. We’ve been friends only ever since.

Reading the text, though, one might think otherwise.

Hey, fucker, which one do I go for? Tits or ass?

There are two pictures attached. One is of her in a halter top with her large breasts pushed up by a bra, which is a miracle of engineering if her cleavage is anything to go by. The second is of her in tight leather trousers, bending over. I smirk and wonder who took the picture.

“I’d say tits.” The words uttered in Carolina’s posh accent have me jerking my head around.

She’s staring at my phone.

“Just a friend,” I say. Crap, not professional looking at these on the job. “I’ve not had time to turn my phone off to avoid notifications. Last time I’ll be looking at personal messages on the job.”

Her clear gaze meets mine. “Oh? Seems a shame. That’s the most interesting thing I’ve seen all week.”

“You must have had a boring week,” I tell her.

“I have, indeed. I’m on house arrest, remember?” She sighs.

“Not now; you have me. You can go anywhere you’d like.”

“So long as you’re with me,” she says with a huff.

“Yes. So long as I’m with you.”

I hitch one hip up to slip my phone in my pocket.

“Tell her then.” Carolina raises one brow at me.

“Excuse me?”

“Tits. Tell her tits.”

I hesitate.

The woman next to me grins. “What? Are you telling me you think ass?”

Christ. She’s a weird mixture of personality. Haughty and uptight one minute, joking about tits and ass the next.