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“So cop, or fed?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he said.

Shad gave him a look, and a brief “Don’t.”

Rowe stopped smiling, but his eyes still gleamed with some inner happiness. So Shadwell was senior man.

“Don’t what?” I asked.

“We are supposed to guard you, not fraternize.”

“Fraternize,” I said, and laughed. “Fraternize, haven’t heard that word in a while.”

Shadwell frowned at me. “It’s an accurate word.”

I nodded, and fought not to look more serious. It didn’t help when I caught Rowe’s gaze. His eyes were practically shining with suppressed mirth. The edge of his mouth twitched and I had to look away, or I’d have lost it.

Shadwell seemed to sense it, because he gave Rowe a hard look. Rowe had to have a coughing fit to cover the laughter that was almost spilling over.

“What got you off undercover work, Rowe?” I asked.

Still recovering from his “coughing fit,” he said, “My sense of humor.”

I looked at him, tried to see if he was serious. He was implying that he’d been fired, or at least reassigned, because his sense of humor had gotten him in trouble.

“Rowe,” Shadwell said, “she does not need to know your background.”

“Yes, sir.” Rowe went back to attention by the door, but his eyes and a certain set to the mouth said he didn’t really mean it. I was beginning to see how Rowe might have gotten in trouble with his superiors.

Shadwell gave us both a hard look, and it was a good look, a real look. Bad guys must have flinched under his gaze, but I wasn’t a bad guy. I was just someone wondering why the guards were on our side of the door. It seemed a little excessive.

“Fine, Shadwell, are you and Rowe here going to stand inside our room all night?”

“No.”

“Then why are you standing here now?”

“Because we were told to,” he said.

Rowe’s mouth twitched again. Someone with a sense of humor had partnered them with each other.

“Isn’t it kind of weird to be on this side of the door? I mean the danger is out there, not in here.”

Shadwell frowned, then smoothed it out. “I’m following orders, Ms. Blake.”

“Marshal Blake,” I said, because it just seemed good to remind rule-and-order Shadwell that I wasn’t really a civvie either.

His eyes flickered to me, then back to staring into space. “If you’re a federal marshal, then you’ll appreciate that I’m following orders.”

That made me laugh. “Nicely done, Shadwell. If I’m a federal marshal. I assure you I am, badge and all, but I’m not really real, am I? I mean I got grandfathered in, and didn’t go through the training, so I’m not really a marshal, right?”

“I did not say that.”

“You implied it,” I said, and my voice was no longer pleasant.

“Are you trying to pick a fight with Shadwell?” Rowe asked, his face curious.

I shrugged, slumping back in the chair as much as the shoulder rig would comfortably let me. “Maybe, and if I am, I’m sorry. I’m just a little bored, a little tense, and I really, really, don’t want to go to this party.”

“It’s a bad idea,” Shadwell said.

“The worst,” I said.

He looked at me. “Then why are you going?”

“Because Jason is going, and he wants me with him.”

Shadwell nodded. “My wife’s the social one. I hate parties, too.”

I tried to pretend that Shadwell hadn’t just done exactly what he’d yelled at Rowe for, which was overshare. “Yeah, but I bet your wife doesn’t drag you to parties where strange men will be taking off their clothes.”

“You don’t think your friend in there will want to stay for that part of the party?” Shadwell asked.

I shrugged, and sat up straighter. “He may.”

The two men exchanged glances. Even Rowe didn’t seem to think it was funny. Then Rowe grinned as if he couldn’t help it. “The last time I saw male strippers I was getting a lap dance.”

We both looked at him. He shrugged, and actually blushed, which you don’t see in an ex-cop much. “We’d had a rash of gay bashing that turned into serial murder. All the vics had frequented this one club.” Then he grinned again. “I was the only one on the undercover unit who was secure enough in my manhood to do the job.