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desk and wrote a couple of things on the back of it. “Here. When you get there, ask for Special Agent Blevins. She’ll be the one doing the actual interview.”
    Sienna wanted to ask if she’d see him, but kept her lips buttoned and just nodded as she took the card. They walked to the front together and Sienna let him out. Greg turned back to her, his blond hair shining in the afternoon sun, and gave her a smile. “Thank you.”
    She knew he was talking about more than just her getting the door for him. “Thank you. ”
    After she’d closed and locked the door behind him, she moved the blind and watched him walk away and turn the corner before letting it fall back into place and heading quickly back to the office.
    She needed to talk to Tyson before her interview—maybe he knew what the fuck was going on.

Chapter Six
    “Cici!”
    The call was repeated twice before Sienna remembered that that was her and she turned around to see Greg striding toward her. Torn between excitement at seeing him and frustration that she needed to be ‘on’ within her role, she composed her features while waiting for him to join her.
    The past twenty-four hours had been an exercise in frustration and she was more than ready to go ‘home’—aka Harlan’s house—and eat a pint of ice cream or something. Jay had sensed her mood and had offered to wrap up closing and let her take off.
    Likely, he was tired of her sour attitude and would rather do the work alone than have her help.
    She’d had a one-on-one with Tyson and shared what she knew about Greg and he’d been as stunned as she was to learn there was another agency involved. She’d immediately wanted to talk to Boyd and the others, then call up her boss and give her a piece of her mind, but Tyson had talked her out of it. Rocking the boat, he’d reminded her, just muddied the water. Better to lie low and see what swam by. The troubling question was why hadn’t they been told? And it seemed as though the DEA had no idea that the local jurisdiction had this operation in place. Was it a simple case of the right hand not talking to the left? A miscommunication? Or something more unsavory like a corrupt cop covering their tracks? It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened—problem was, if that were the case, who could they trust?
    She’d grudgingly agreed to wait it out for a while longer, but had cautioned her partner that she wasn’t about to hang herself in the upcoming interview with the Feds. Maintaining cover was the most she would do unless she had to make an on-the-spot decision about revealing her real identity and role.
    The interview with DEA Agent Blevins had been a delicate dance of misinformation and plausible denials while trying not to actually lie to the agent. At the same time, she was hoping for some hint of how the DEA came to be involved and why her team wasn’t privy to the information. Could be some ‘need to know’ bullshit, but fuck. The interagency rivalry crap was just hurting everyone if that was the case.
    She’d walked out feeling like she knew less than when she’d gone in. What she did know was that she hadn’t ruled out deliberate sabotage to their respective investigations. Right now, the only person she could really trust was Tyson.
    The worst part was that now, instead of knowing for sure that Greg was a ‘good guy’ like she’d convinced herself yesterday, she was forced to consider that even as an agent, he could be involved in the drug ring. She didn’t want to think that, but she had to be realistic and not let her libido rule her head.
    Speaking of libido…
    Greg had reached her and she realized she had been staring blankly at his approach while she’d been lost in her thoughts. He was dressed casually in a Henley and worn jeans and looked fucking edible.
    Damn it.
    “Hi, Greg,” she greeted, trying to inject a bit of life in her tone of voice.
    “Hi.” He studied her carefully. “Are you okay?”
    “Fine.” She