Page 82 of Shadow Blind

The spook got a hit on a coded file…Stargate…classified by ODNI.

Aiden’s scowl faded. He eyed O’Neill thoughtfully. It was unlikely there was a connection between O’Neill and the super-secret file Dev had unearthed. But if Stargate had something to do with O’Neill, then the dude had connections. The kind of connections that might get a lock on Kuznetsov.

Of course, ODNI could—probably would—target him if the conversation got back to them. Those boys didn’t appreciate anyone nosing into their classified operations. He weighed the risk and shrugged. So far nothing was working, Kuznetsov was still in the wind. To take the Russian down, he needed to think outside the box. Asking O’Neill for help wasn’t just outside the box—it was outside the entire building. He pushed himself up from the bench. Praying that his mushy legs would keep him upright, he headed across the room.

His hand still bunched inside his pocket; O’Neill watched him approach. The closer Aiden got, the flatter the dude’s face became. Those eerie eyes turned cold and calculating.

“Winchester,” O’Neill drawled once Aiden stopped in front of him. He scanned Aiden from head to sneakers, looking supremely unimpressed. “You’re up early.”

His tone implied Aiden looked so awful he should have stayed in bed. Aiden couldn’t fault the dude for the disparagement. He suspected he looked every bit as shitty as the dude had implied.

“Could say the same about you.” At least when it came to the up early part of the greeting. Aiden studied O’Neill’s face. It looked shuttered and unwelcoming.

Someone wasn’t happy to have company this morning. Maybe O’Neill used early morning gym hours as his alone time too. This was the first time Aiden had hit the benches so early. He didn’t know when O’Neill worked out.

There was no non-confrontational approach to this conversation. The fact he’d asked someone to run a search on the dude through the soups network was already confrontational. If O’Neill was a spook, he wouldn’t be pleased to find an inquiry had hit his name—assuming he hadn’t already been alerted to the probe.

There was no sense in tiptoeing around the subject, so he went in with all weapons firing.

“I had a buddy run you through the soups and spooks network and fuck if he didn’t get a hit.”

O’Neill’s eyebrows climbed. Amusement touched his face. “I highly doubt that.”

Aiden let nothing show on his face. Internally, though, he was one big grimace.

Sure, he’d hoped for some reaction to the news. But amusement? Not so much that. A reaction more guarded would be nice. Maybe a flicker of tension or sudden stillness. Mockery and sarcasm were not on his list of obvious tells.

But then, if the dude was ODNI, he wouldn’t give a damn thing away. Those boys were machines. Trained to kill. Trained to deceive. Trained for non-reaction to reactionary events. Aiden frowned. They were also trained to subvert, to disarm, to use whatever they could to muddy the waters.

Like mockery and sarcasm? Probably. But then, that could just be an O’Neill thing. Christ knew the guy was an asshole.

Aiden’s mind rewound to the meeting where he’d briefed the Shadow Mountain warriors on what had happened in Karaveht. O’Neill’s questions had been thoughtful, even surprising. Maybe there was more to the bastard than he let on. Maybe there wasn’t. Neither possibility mattered. He couldn’t afford to leave any stone unturned. If O’Neill was or had been ODNI, he’d have contacts, contacts Dev didn’t have access to, contacts that could prove invaluable.

He needed to ask the bastard for a favor.

Fuck, did that burn.

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Aiden yawned and wobbled slightly as a sudden, bone deep exhaustion crashed over him. Again. What the hell? He’d gotten some actual sleep over the past two days. Plenty of it. He shouldn’t be so damn tired. Nor should those bench reps from earlier have drained him, not to this extent.

Maybe he should swing by the clinic when he left the gym, have the docs check him out.

“You okay?” O’Neill asked, the two words drawn out with obvious reluctance.

Hell, he must look even worse than he felt if O’Neill was expressing concern.

“Just peachy.” He grimaced and ran a hand down his face, hesitating several beats too long. Yeah, he was stalling. He dropped his hand and focused on O’Neill’s blank face and sharp eyes.

“Look, I don’t know if my contact’s info is square. No clue if you’re Stargate, or with ODNI. What I do know is that we’ve got a big problem. None of my or Wolf’s contacts are zeroing in on Kuznetsov or the nanobot weapon. We can’t afford to wait, not anymore. Not when that damn thing could go off at any moment.”

O’Neill was silent for one…two…seconds. “I’m listening.”

Well, that was something, at least.

Aiden nodded, taking a tired breath. Chills suddenly swept across his hot skin, leaving goosebumps and shivers in their wake. Damn, maybe he was getting sick. Which would make it the first time in… He tried to think back but couldn’t remember the last time he’d picked up a cold.

O’Neill, he abruptly noticed, was watching him with narrowed eyes and a wrinkled forehead. Much more of this silence and the dude was going to express concern again.

What had he been saying? Oh, yeah—contacts.

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