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This little trip was going to suck.
They knew it too.
Big-Time.
Chapter Nineteen
New Orleans
Heading In
Monday Night
T here was definitely something foul afoot in this city, and it stunk like a rogue CIA agent. There was no surprise that Artemis Dubois was up to her eyeballs in it, and if she had the Director of the CIA by the short and curlies, her boss needed to know.
What she chose to do about it…
That was between her and God.
AKA Gabriel Rothschild.
As Ivan drove, Duke in the back with her, they navigated the crazy busy streets back to the Hotel Monteleone.
When Axelle answered, her voice proving that she was burning the midnight oil, she dropped the bomb.
“First, I need to implement our plan into action. I need you to borrow an older woman for me.”
Axelle still couldn’t believe she was going to do this.
“I really don’t like doing this. It goes against everything I feel is right—as in this is going to blow up in my face and Gabe is going to be so far up my ass, I’m gonna be considered a condominium for him and his ego.”
Oh, well, she knew what would ease that bad case of morals.
“Guess who paid for the guerillas who took out the Marines and tortured them in Columbia?”
She paused.
“Who?”
“Artemis Dubois.”
Elizabeth wasn’t done. She knew how to play the game in DC. It was any alphabet agency for itself.
“Guess who drugged Remington with Addiction, then went in his wallet, got intel on his wife and kid, and then had them murdered by selling El Gato said information?”
Her belly dropped.
“Oh, no.”
Yeah, there was that joint disgust at knowing what this likely meant.
“Oh, yes, Artemis Dubois. Guess who has been getting files from the CIA and somehow has the Director there by the balls?”
It got worse.
“Why can’t you ever call me with good news?”
Uh, maybe because they were fighting for lives in New Orleans, and every day was a shitshow?
