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“Oh, yeah.” Blake nodded. “He was very clear on that part.”

She started laughing. “You’re screwing with me.”

Both men spoke the same words at once.

“I wish.”

He and Draven looked at one another and laughed.

It’s either that or cry at this point.

Gwen sighed. “Please hire someone soon.”

“We’re trying,” Blake assured her. “Trust me.”

“Well try harder, because I spent twenty minutes yesterday looking for the FedEx account number.”

Blake frowned. “It’s in the shipping folder.”

“Uh, no. It wasn’t. But I did find it . . . eventually.”

“Where was it?” Draven rolled his chair up to the table.

“Miscellaneous.”

Gwen’s gaze moved from Draven’s to his.

Blake immediately held up both hands. “Don’t look at me.”

“Well, it sure as heck wasn’t me.” Gwen’s expression became pointed.

Draven pointed toward the hallway behind her. “Lucas could be the culprit.”

She disagreed. “Lucas wouldn’t do that.”

“Emmett?” Blake suggested.

Her pretty brown gaze stared back at him as if he’d just grown two heads.

“That man would rather run into a firestorm of bullets than come within ten feet of a file cabinet.”

“Like Savage said, we’re trying.” Draven held up the small stack of folders for her to see. “We’ve been interviewing people all week.”

“How many more do you have on the books?”

Blake answered, “Six more between now and the end of the week.”

“Here’s hoping at least one of those fits the bill. Otherwise, we may have to rethink our current policy on random testing.”

Gwen gave them a wave and a grin, her ponytail swinging as she turned and walked away.

Draven checked his watch. “Next interview’s in twenty minutes.”

Blake stood again and headed for the door. “Then I’m taking a break.”

“Meet back here in fifteen?”

“It’s a date.” He gave his teammate a thumbs-up before stepping into the hall.