She hadn't heard him come down the hallway. But suddenly he was there, standing just behind her shoulder, shirtless, his coffee mug still in his hand, looking at Marcus with a calm unbothered expression.

Marcus looked at Reid.

Looked at Cleo.

Looked back at Reid.

His face changed completely.

"Who is this?" His voice had shifted, the desperation replaced with something harder.

"That's not your concern," Cleo said.

"It's eight in the morning and there's a man standing in your door without a shirt on the day after our divorce is finalized—" Marcus's jaw tightened. "Who is he Cleo?"

"Marcus—"

"Is that— " He stared at Reid. Something clicked in...