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I shake my head. “No. I mean, I could request to if I needed something, but…” I trail off and he nods his understanding.
“We don’t want to draw attention,” he agrees as he looks at me. I know that look.
“No,” I say like he’s a dog that just got into the trash can.
His eyebrow shoots up so quickly that I laugh.
“What did you just say?” he asks.
Damn it. I played right into it. “I said no.”
“To what are you saying no, exactly? I don’t remember asking a question.”
I glare at him. “Aiden, you know damn well what I was saying ‘no’ to.”
He flattens his lips, waiting for me to explain.
“Not playing the game,” I reply.
He leans forward, and I can smell his cologne. I hate that. I hate that everything about this man forces a thousand memories to instantly pop into my head like a damn memory carousel. I hate that I like the way he smells, hell, love the way he smells. I want to hate him so fucking bad, yet, I can’t. I can’t do it. And my body certainly doesn’t want to hate him.
His eyes watch my lips. I remember how his lips felt on me, and that memory is far too recent for my liking.
His computer dings and we both turn to look at it.
“They’re done.”
I don’t know if I’m disappointed by the fact that we can’t continue this banter, or if I’m relieved.
We both crowd around his computer, and he opens the files. We read them one after another.
They are classified correspondence with someone named D.M.
“Who’s D.M.?” I ask as we read one after another. It looks like something about the drugs that Confervo is making and also something about Halfagher.
“I don’t know,” he mutters as we continue reading.
Whoever D.M. is, they are telling the admiral about them. And how they work on their products.
“Products?” I ask out loud as I read another email. Admiral Blake asks for more details, saying someone had mentioned how well the products worked while on the drug and he thinks the drug could be used for other purposes.
“What in the hell?” Aiden murmurs as he continues to scan the emails.
I follow his gaze and see a spreadsheet detailing “assets” and the amount of drug given.
“Wait? Are products or assets people?” I ponder.
We keep reading, and at some point, the admiral mentions something about weapons, D.M. responds confirming that weapons would work as payment. Suddenly, the pieces start to come together.
“Wait, hold on,” I say. “Uh, do you have another computer or a secured server?”
Aiden nods. “This one is on a secured server that is connected to our security guy. What do you need?”
I swallow and bite my lip, almost afraid to find out if what I’m thinking is correct. “Look up…Damien Malroy.”
“The arms dealer?”
I nod. “Just do it.”