Not two weeks ago, he’d gone to make some copies of a printed report only to find that Spencer had Gabrielle hemmed in the long, thin tenth-floor copy room. She was at the very back by some shelving, a good two feet away from him, but he’d put his big body between her and the door. He had one arm stretched across the aisle, resting his hand on the largest machine. Her exit was blocked, and the air felt wrong.

Spence was saying, “I’m genuinely curious, and who else can I ask?” There was something naughty-schoolboy in his tone. “It’s just a question.”

Gabrielle’s mouth was set in a mild, pleasant smile, but over it her eyes blazed, furious.

“I need to get back to work,” she said.

“Come on, tell me.” Spence sounded like he was asking to wheedle a piece of candy off a secretary’s desk, the kind she’d set out in a dish for anyone. Faux naughty.

“What’s the question?” Marshall asked, coming all the way in. Spencer whirled around, surprised, and Gabrielle’s face flashed a huge relief.

“You walk like a cat for such a tall guy,” Spencer said, laughing, then clocked the folder in Marshall’s hand. “Is that for the Price case? You know you can get my girl to copy that shit for you. Do you even know how to use this machine?”

“I do,” Marshall said. He moved closer to the wall so he could see them both, turning their line into a triangle.

“Well, good on ya,” Spence said, overly hearty. “If I tried to mess with that behemoth, the whole building could take off like a rocket ship, crash into the sun.” He laughed at his own joke and looked to Gabrielle.

She forced a chuckle, but Marshall could see a red wash of anger retoning her skin.

He put on a puzzled look, like a hayseed yokel with a stupid question. “So what are you doing in the copy room? If you can’t work the machine.” His voice had an edge that belied his empty-eyed smile.

Gabrielle drew her breath in, short and sharp.

“Funny guy,” Spence said. “I’m talking with my colleague.” He said it in a way that drew a line between him and Gabrielle, both lawyers from wealthy families, and Marshall, a blue-collar hick who ran a team of investigators for a decent living wage. “But I have to go prep for that meeting.”

His gaze went flat, heavy-lidded, staring Marshall down. Unlike Gabrielle, Spencer wasn’t trapped. There was plenty of room for him to pass. But he wanted to make Marshall move, so Marshall stepped up against the wall. He felt no need to measure dicks with the guy.

When Spence’s footsteps were out of earshot, Marshall turned to Gabrielle. Her spine was stiff, her expression now guarded. He stayed by the wall, so she could leave at any moment she chose.