Butler Eduardo let out a long, suffering groan as he tried... tried... to wedge himself sideways between two lockers clearly not designed for retired men with loose joints.
"I distinctly remember you telling me to assign two bodyguards for Lady Summers, My Lord," he whispered harshly, his voice cracking as his ribs met cold metal. He cringed, clearly feeling himself getting goosebumps. "I did not realize we would be those two bodyguards."
He could have sworn his spine popped like bubble wrap.
Zach did not react. Because Zach was busy adjusting his hoodie like he was starring in a low-budget spy film, then pushing his oversized sunglasses higher on his nose with dramatic precision. He peered around the corner like a raccoon scouting for leftover fries.
"Hold yourself, Ed," Zach muttered, absolutely serious. "Lady Summers might get into trouble with her sister in that hallway," he pointed the hallway with his lips. "If that happens—you attack."
