“I don’t love spending this much energy on a guy that I really don’t give a flying shit about.” “That’s fair.” I sip my coffee, now cold. “But,” Farrow says, running a thumb over his hoop lip piercing, “I’m not a petty fucker. He hasn’t even glared at me since your birthday.” Back in June. “And he’s not on my ass while we’re on-duty. Shit, he’s been relatively easy to work with, so something’s changed.” He looks to Maximoff, as though handing the baton over. Moffy is too rigid to even drink his tea. “Your bodyguard cares about you, Janie. And it’s on a personal level.”
