It was the look on her face that gave her away. The subtle arch of her brows, the way her eyes widened as they peered up at him, the way her pupil dilated around the warm coffee of her iris. He might have even guessed at a subtly hitched breath when he moved in closer to her. He hadn’t wanted to rip himself away from her like that -- like his fingers had caused an electric shock once they made contact with the soft skin of her cheeks. It had drawn him closer like a magnet, mingled with her warm scent, even though his mind was screaming that he shouldn’t. She is not your woman. That still didn’t mute the little groan that he caught during his retreat that almost made him turn back around to play into the impulse to kiss her.<br/><br/><br/>Which was why he recoiled away so fast, leaving another part of his mind laughing at his stupidity while another played tug of war with his morals. You can be there for her, it prompted him logically. You can protect her. You can have her. Thank fuck he had turned his back on her so that she couldn’t see the war waging across his features as his long strides carried him back to his bedroom. He had his thoughts under control, mostly, by the time he fell down into his computer chair and dared to cast his stare back in her direction. Seeing her hovering over his desk with that anxious look in her eye made him curse under his breath and shake his head. “You’re not a cop. You don’t know how to defend yourself like I do. I don’t want you going anywhere that could be a risk to your life…” He trailed off, lips pursing as he recalled Dunkin sprawled on the leather sofa in the living room. “Besides, if we both get killed, who will take care of Dunkin?” There was that spark back in his eye that was a glimmer of the old smart ass he used to be. He even raised his brows playfully at her.<br/><br/><br/>“But you can help,” he finally ground out with reluctance. “With these files,” he added as his attention flickered back to his computer screen in front of them as she wiggled up onto the edge of his desk. A grin continued to play deviously at the corners of his mouth at her own sly look as his hand wandered absently up to rest on her thigh right above her knee, his thumb flicking back and forth on the spandex as his hand made a warm imprint against cloth covered skin. He was distracted, however, by the presence of the folders that popped up on his computer screen once she took over use of his mouse. He let her for now, hazel eyes flitting from one while to the next while his mind struggled to catch up to what was going on. He was as lost as she was at this point in the game, but the man had always had a logical, calculating mind that he hid under a snarky sense of humor - most days.<br/><br/><br/>“Gen--” His eyes saw the folder at the same time she did, but her finger was quick to click. His hand stilled on her thigh, withdrawing away from shock as bare skin flashed up on the screen. This wasn’t some porn collection, either; some of the women in the pictures were repeats and none of them were smiling seductively for the camera with plump, glossed up lips. In most of the pictures the women looked wide eyed, scared, drawn and thin from stress. Their hair was not rumpled sex hair or even glossed up like they were there to impress a man, even one like Nathan, but hung in stringy strands or waves. “Gen, I don’t think this is what you think it is,” he said slowly. For a moment, he took the mouse away from her as she lurched back from the imagery and scrolled down to stare at the nudes. “They’re on display, but they don’t want to be. Most of these girls look out of it -- drugged. And they all look young.”<br/><br/><br/>He felt his stomach heave like something heavy had been dropped down in it. He didn’t want to think that Nate, the man he had called his best friend, was a part of something nefarious like he was thinking this was. He pushed back the thought that Nathan was a part of this until they found out more. Sitting up straight when she clicked back out and onto the next folder, he was quick to slide his hand underneath hers to steal the mouse back from her. Without explaining himself, he clicked on the third picture after the pair of them to another woman that Gen might have recognized as Oliver’s sister, Ophelia. Dark hair like him, but with a pair of green eyes instead of hazel and a long, aquiline nose to accent her beauty. “Dammit, Nathan, what have you been up to…”<br/><br/><br/>Shaking his head, he clicked on the last two pictures of a black haired, black eyed man that Oliver recognized as an associate of Nathan’s from back in their rookie days named Juan. He remembered that he had died some years back from a car accident or some such--<br/><br/><br/>“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck--” He left the folder and went back to the screen of folders, scrolling through to see what else there was that caught his eyes. When the scroll part hit rock bottom and he couldn’t scroll down any longer, Oliver’s eyes finally rested on the very last folder in alphabetical order labeled “The Viper.” His memory triggered with the word; some vague mention at the station of something about The Viper. Hesitating briefly, he clicked the folder to see what was inside it. Several documents in PDF format. He clicked the first one -- encrypted. Clicking out, he found a picture and clicked to find a woman with dark, wavy hair and a pair of sunglasses glancing behind her. She wore an expensive business suit and the image looked captured, like she was not aware that her photo was being taken, rather than intentional. There were a couple more pictures of the same woman, all with her being unaware, but no information as to what the pictures meant. It was back to the encrypted files then.<br/><br/>“Gen, are you any good with cracking codes?”