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She exhaled shakily. “Ryan, I …. This matters to me. Us, we matter. But right now we have to focus. Someone’s trying to kill you. We have to figure out what’s going on so you can get your life back. We don’t need the distraction.”
“And a relationship would be a distraction?” He didn’t know why he was pushing her. She was saying what he’d just been thinking. What he wanted. And yet, he hated it.
She gave him a soft look. “Yes, it would. A beautiful, wonderful distraction. I want to float through my days, forget where I left my keys, and generally wander around in a blissful fog.” Her look hardened. “But we can’t afford that now. For now, just for now, we need to forget last night ever happened.”
She had to be kidding. How could he forget the heat, the passion, and the tenderness they’d shared? But she was also right. Distraction was dangerous, and, in this case, potentially deadly.
“Sure. Of course.”
She gave him a close look. “This is just temporary, right?”
He forced a smile. “Right.” Then he divided the pile of folders in two and slapped half of them down in front of her. “Let’s get started.”
She eyed him for a moment longer while she drank her coffee, then she nodded and smiled back. “Sounds like a plan.”
17
They’d been working steadily,mostly silently—aside from the occasional question or stray remark—for hours when Leilah found it. The answer. Or, more precisely, the fact that would set them on the path that would lead them to the answer.
She almost didn’t say anything. She told herself it wasn’t that important. That it didn’t mean—couldn’t mean—what she thought it meant.
No,she told herself.This is important, and you’re being a baby.
It was, and she admitted, she was. After she’d explained her thinking to Ryan, after she’d set aside her personal desires, her own wishes, to do the smart thing, the adult thing, the responsible thing—all things that were antithetical to Leilah Khan—he’d frozen her out. He’d thrown up an invisible, impenetrable icy wall. He was on one side, and she was on the other.
And, dammit, it hurt.
But saving his life was more important than her wounded feelings. Finding the people who’d killed Natsuo Ito and Grover Anderson, and possibly King Cortez, mattered more than her pride and her dignity. So she squared her shoulders and cleared her throat.
“Ryan?”
“Hmm?” He didn’t look up from the case he was reading.
“Look at this.” She waited a moment, and he flipped a page. “Ryan,” she said again, her tone sharper.
He met her eyes over the top of his glasses. “What is it?”
She shoved the paper across the picnic table and raced around to his side. She leaned in to point to the passage and pretended not to notice when her breast brushed against his arm. “Read this part.”
She watched his face as he scanned the portion of Natsuo’s memo to the file. His eyes widened and lit up. Then he read it again, aloud this time:
“Army Medical Logistics Command at Fort Detrick is investigating the suspected theft of more than four thousand vials of the analgesic ketamine hydrochloride. The vials were reported missing after a routine inventory of medical supplies by AMLC staff in stateside warehouses. The drugs had been earmarked for delivery to field medical personnel.”
He looked up at her and let out a long, low whistle. “Four thousand vials.”
“Fort Detrick is in suburban Maryland. It’s maybe an hour from Washington.”
“Cortez was stopped with liquid ketamine. Four thousand vials back then would most likely have had a street value in the millions. If someone in the Army was stealing ketamine and supplying it to street dealers ….” He trailed off, and she picked up.
“And DOD and DEA found out, they might be incentivized to keep it quiet. Handle it internally, maybe?”
“Then Nat stumbled on the information while we were working on the Cortez matter. DOD and DEA found out and silenced Cortez.” He fell silent. “But Cortez was killed two and a half years ago. Why dredge it back up now? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Natsuo must have done something or said something that made them realize they hadn’t cleaned up all their loose ends,” she suggested.
He leaned over and kissed her—a quick, light peck. “You’re a freaking genius, Leilah. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going? Back to D.C.?”
