Thomas was right. I did hate driving on the freeway, and that annoyed me as well. I found a parking space and pushed the gear forward into park. Then, I grabbed my purse and brown leather messenger bag. Shoving the door open, I stepped out to see Agent Grove struggling to get out of his blue sedan.

“Morning,” I said.

He simply nodded, and we headed for the elevator bay. I pressed the button, trying not to tip him off that I was nervous to have him standing behind me.

He coughed into his hand, and I used that as an excuse to glance back.

My sleek ponytail whipped over my right shoulder as I did so. “Summer colds are the worst.”

“Allergies,” he grumbled, almost to himself.

The elevator opened, and I stepped on, followed by Grove. His pale-blue shirt and too-small tie made his expansive midsection look even more pronounced.

“How are the interviews going?” I asked.

Grove’s wiry mustache twitched. “It’s a little early to engage in chitchat, Agent Lindy.”

I raised my eyebrows and then faced forward, holding my hands in front of me. The seventh floor chimed, and I stepped into the hallway. I glanced back at Grove, who glared at me until the doors slid shut.

Val merged with me as I approached the security doors. “Open the door, open the door, open the—”

“We’re not finished,” Marks said with a grimace.

Val instantly switched on a smile and turned around. “For now, we are.”

“No, we’re not,” Marks said, his bright blue eyes flaming.

I pushed open the door, and Val took a step backward. “But we are…so we are.” When the door closed in Marks’s face, she turned back around and squeezed my arm. “Thank you.”

“What was that about?”

She rolled her eyes and puffed out a breath. “He still wants me to move out of my condo.”

“Well…I wouldn’t like my boyfriend living with his wife either.”

“Marks is not my boyfriend, and Sawyer is not my husband.”

“Your status with Marks is debatable, but you are definitely still married to Sawyer. He hasn’t signed the papers yet?”

We turned into my office, and Val shut the door before falling into a club chair.

“No! He came home from Cutter’s one night, going on and on about how Davies was a mistake.”

“Wait—Agent Davies?”

“Yes.”

“But you…”

Val’s nose wrinkled, and when recognition hit, she jumped out of the chair. “No! Ew! Ew! Even if I were a lesbian, I’d much prefer ChapStick to lipstick. Agent Davies looks like a reject from a Cher look-alike contest with all that”—she circled her face with her index finger—“stuff on her face.”

“So, when you said you experienced both Sawyer and Davies, you meant because he’d cheated on you with her.”