Page 34 of Only the Wicked (The Sinful State #1)

He studies me, and I maintain eye contact a beat longer than necessary.

I’m speaking operational language now, but beneath it runs a current neither of us will acknowledge—that you can’t unfeel something just because it’s inconvenient.

That’s not how human chemistry works, no matter how much we pretend otherwise.

His jaw tightens and his head shakes in the negative. Nonverbal emphasis there shall be nothing physical between us. There is no us. Focus .

“What did they want? When they blackmailed you?”

“No. First, your company.”

“What else do you want to know?”

“Who’s funding it?” He sinks into the back of the armchair. “As you can see from my experience, the money source is an important factor.”

I open my mouth; struck with the realization he’s not going to like my answer. But also, it’s information I shouldn’t share. “I never asked.” It’s a half-truth. I never asked what the approved answer is regarding funding.

His lips purse, skeptical.

“I was assured it’s well-funded. I didn’t join the firm hoping to collect a pension decades from now. I joined because I want to find the leak. It didn’t take me long to realize I could do nothing inside the CIA. Not in my new group. This was a chance to chase down the leak.”

“Who’s the client?”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone hired your company to investigate, right?”

“That’s not… We’re privately funded.” He’s looking at me like he’s trying to decide if I’m a fool or if I’m lying to him again.

“I don’t know who initiated the investigation.

” That’s the truth. I consider Hudson. Former special forces.

Intelligent. Direct. He shares information on a need-to-know basis, and I…

Damn, I’m too used to taking orders. I didn’t ask enough questions—of Hudson or Caroline.

“Let me get this straight. An unknown entity invested in a surveillance team to find out who ARGUS is doing deals with and recruited operatives under the guise of a vigilante protector?”

I swallow and give a quick nod, understanding why he’s incredulous. If it’s not the government wanting this investigation, it could be a competitor.

“I did a background check on you.” That’s an off-the-wall comment, and I wait, wondering where he’s going with it.

“And?”

“You’re friends with Caroline Moore.”

“That showed up in my background report?”

“Well, you were in the CIA with her.”

“Yes.” I suppose that intel is obtainable.

“Is she behind this at all?”

“Why would you ask—” His look shuts me up.

“She is one of my close friends. She knows…” I’ll leave that thought there. I’ve probably shared too much as it is. If Caroline chose to conceal her connection to KOAN, it’s likely ARGUS would identify links.

“Do you trust her husband?”

“I’ve never met him.” I meet his dark, questioning eyes head on. “Caroline and I met after they separated. They’re back together, but I haven’t met him yet. If you’re asking…I don’t have contact with him.”

He tugs at his jaw.

“Miles, my partner, has had meetings with staff from his financial firm.” I give him a questioning look. “Finance guys love the idea of AI forecasting markets,” he shrugs. “It’s a small world. You’re sure he’s not the one who hired KOAN?”

“Do you see him as a competitor?” I hadn’t, but I bought into this project to find a leak.

“In addition to an investment firm, he owns a company that owns satellites. That’s a lot of data.”

“Then you should approach him for a deal, but… Then again, scratch that. He’s third-generation wealth. He’s not?—”

“How did KOAN find you? I’m assuming you didn’t find the job posting on a job board.”

I scratch at the side of my face, debating.

“Within the intelligence community, my situation isn’t unknown. All things considered, it’s not surprising they approached me.” It’s an honest answer that doesn’t out my friend. “Do you need to know anything else?”

He shakes his head, but he’s cold. Ruthless is the word that comes to mind.

“What does Russia have on you? What do they want?”

“They want me to buy a database. It’s reasonable to expect that once it’s purchased, additional demands will be made.”

“What do they have on you? Is that why the FBI is interested in you?”

That gets his attention.

“What did the FBI want?”

“I truly don’t know. If I were to guess, I’d say he was cultivating an asset, but that’s not how the FBI works. Are they investigating you?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“What is Russia holding over your head? You’re a single man and never married. It can’t be the typical compromising photos. What have you done?”

He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, then exhales loudly.

“No.” His voice hardens. “You don’t get to know that.” He rises from the chair in one fluid motion, suddenly imposing in the space between us. “Are we working together or not?”

The question hangs in the air, an ultimatum disguised as a choice.

I recognize the tactic—I’ve used it myself.

Through the window behind him, lightning flashes across the D.C.

skyline, illuminating the room in stark white for a split second.

In that flash, I see something in his eyes I hadn’t expected: not just anger, but a profound wariness.

This man has carried his own secrets far longer than I’ve carried mine.

“Yes,” I say finally, making my choice. “We’re working together.”

He nods once, sharply, like sealing a pact. “Good. Because when it comes to gods and monsters, Sydney,” he says, his voice dropping to almost a whisper, “I’m starting to wonder which one I’ve created.”

I have no idea what he means by that, but something in his tone sends a chill down my spine. Whatever Rhodes is hiding, it’s big.