Remi let Moira drive, hoping the treacherous roads of backwoods Colombia would be a sufficient distraction.

It was not.

They had been in Colombia three days. Leon had successfully purchased not one, but two coffee plantations, but had decided to stay in Cartagena and their air-conditioned hotel. The meeting with the rubber company management had taken place in Cartegana as well, and Remi had been displeased to find there had already been an expectation of his more criminal proclivities. 

Leon had not seemed surprised, but that had been of little comfort. Remi only liked the idea of his reputation proceeding him in certain circles, and a company that had once been owned by his estranged father was not a part of those circles. However, it had allowed for an easy transfer of funds, and a stronger relationship to a company who had produced some very impressive numbers.

Now, Remi was itching to finish business and get back home. 

But first, the true reason they had come to Colombia in the first place, and an unfortunately necessary one on one with Moira.

"What's made you take such a liking to her, then," she asked, navigating skillfully over tree roots and large, flat, muddy puddles that looked like miniature Pontchartrains. 

Apparently, she wasn't going to beat around the bush. She wasn't even going to ease into the subject.

He let out an irritated sigh, knowing he could escape it no longer. He'd been using Leon and business as a buffer, but now it was just him and Moira. From experience, he knew she wouldn't stop until she was satisfied by his answers.

The problem was even he wasn't satisfied by his answers.

"She's good in bed," he tried, looking out the window. It wasn't a lie.

Moira just snorted, casting a scowl in his direction. "So am I, that's not why you keep me around."

"Well seeing as how you only like women," Remi said, wondering if it would be possible to drag the conversation in this direction. It was much less uncomfortable than talking about Charlie.

The GPS beeped, letting him know they were getting close to their destination. 

"Remington," Moira warned and he bristled at the use of his ridiculous full name. She knew he hated when she used it. "I'm serious," she said, nudging her sunglasses down her nose to look at him. "What has you so wrapped up in her?"

Remi fell silent. He'd been thinking about it since Moira and Leon had brought it to his attention. It had kept him awake at night, turning the question over in his mind.

Uncomfortably, he had realized they were right. Remi had always liked the chase, but there came a limit when he decided a woman or venture was more trouble than they were worth. It was just part of good business.

He should have hit that limit four days ago when she'd thrown a paintbrush at his head. Instead, he'd had to fight not to press her up against the still-wet paint on the wall and kiss her until one or the both of them was gasping for breath. He'd been mad as hell, but it hadn't seemed to matter.

Remi shook his head. "You tell me, Moira. So far she's been argumentative and an all-around pain in my ass. But I'm not ready to be shut of her just yet."

"Why did you bring her in anyway?" Moira asked, tone curious. "A night of fun. What's that you always say? One and done. Keep things loose. That's the only way to live this life."

He let out a small snarl, wanting her to get to the point.

"I get her bein' a doctor. Havin' her in your pocket isn't a bad idea," she continued. "But you made it somethin' else the night you brought her home."

The only response that earned her was a sullen silence and a dark glare. He knew that better than anyone. It had been his own damn rule. 

"Fine. So you can't tell me why you put up with that sharp tongue of hers. What can you tell me?" Moira swore as the tires tried to slip off the trail.

"I..." Remi sighed, "can tell you that she's good at what she does. Matty called me the other day."

He looked out the window in time to see three brightly colored birds erupt from the brush near the road, soaring away from the noise they created driving through the jungle.

"And?" Moira prompted him.

"And Luci was sick the other day. Matty brought her to Charlie and he said she did her job. Said she seems to know what she's doin', and she hasn't even gone through med school yet." Remi nearly smiled. He couldn't have planned that better himself. "Charlie's already earning her keep."

"Mm," Moira hummed, finally shaking her head. "All right, Remington. Keep your secrets. Just make sure that's not the one gets you killed."

Remi snorted. "Please, Moira. Charlie's not the secret that's going to get me killed."

She shot a dark glare at him. "That's not funny."

"It's a little funny," he said with a small grin.

"Whatever," she said, shoving her sunglasses back up her nose. "We're here, anyway."

Just as she said the words, the trees fell away to reveal sunlight beating down on rows of green, leafing bushes. Remi rolled down the window, looking at the men and women walking along the rows. A breeze heavy with a scent that was sharp and strangely pleasant filled the air.

He lolled his head to the side and gave her a charming grin. "Smells like money."

Moira smiled indulgently, driving farther up the road that split the fields in half. The warm, humid breeze played with the dark curls that had fallen from the severe bun at the top of her head to hang around her face. She parked near the small collection of ramshackle houses in the center of the fields.

Remi sighed, pleased. They opened the doors at the same time, Remi tugging at the sleeves of his light tan suit. He could feel the eyes of the field hands on him.

An older man stepped out of the foremost house, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand. Remi nodded subtly at Moira, watching as she tucked a pistol into her belt, not bothering to pull her white shirt out and down to hide it.

"Buenos dias," Remi started, then stopped when he found himself on the business end of an AK-47. A boy of maybe fifteen held it steadily, eyes cold and watchful

He threw his hand out, stopping Moira from retaliating. Things didn't need to get ugly yet.

"Quién eres tú?" the older man asked, waving off the boy, who only lowered the muzzle. Remi knew every step from here on would require a light touch. He didn't feel like getting punched full of holes today.

Moira was tense and ready, lithe body begging to spring into action. Remi just didn't think the boy winding up face down on the ground with a gun to the back of his head would be conducive to good business.

"No cartel," he finally answered. "Solo alguien que quiere cortarte a un buen precio."

The old man smirked, his impressive mustache twitching as he turned and waved for Remi to follow. Over his shoulder, he called, "Deja a tu perra afuera."

Remi signaled for Moira to stay outside. She tapped at her wrist and he nodded. She shouldn't really have even needed to ask.

He never went anywhere without something up his sleeve.

                                                                      §§§

By the time he'd left the house, the sun was sinking below the tree line. Moira was sitting on the front bumper of their vehicle, arms crossed. The boy sat on the edge of the low porch, his rifle across his lap. At least their hostilities seemed abated as well. At the very least an uneasy truce hung in the air between them.

A hand on his shoulder had him turning. He smiled and shook Carlos' hand.

"Mi gente estará aquí dentro de la semana," Remi said. 

Carlos smiled, nodding. "Y las otras cosas que prometiste?"

Now Remi gestured to Moira. "Mi gente te conseguirá lo que necesites."

"Bueno." Carlos shook his hand one more time, and Remi stepped off the weathered boards of the porch, nearly dry mud sucking lightly at his shoes. He looked out over the fields, smiling to himself.

If only every deal could fall together so easily.

He walked toward Moira, gesturing for her to get into the driver's seat. She didn't move until he was in the vehicle, watching the people gathering around Carlos, pointing questioningly at the white man and his companion.

Never turning her back on them, she finally got in. She started the vehicle and nearly threw him into the door as she whipped it around and went flying down the trail between the fields, not slowing down until the jungle enveloped them and forced her to.

"So?" she asked.

"You happen to know any good guns for hire down here?" he asked, frowning at his faint reflection in the window. "They need people who'll protect them from the cartels and the remaining paramilitary groups."

"I can find some," she said without hesitation. "Are mercenaries the only thing this will cost us?"

"They wanted a sixty-forty split. I talked him down to seventy-thirty, since I'm taking full responsibility on shipping. I just need them to grow it."

"What about processing?" Moira's sunglasses slipped from where they were perched on her head after a particularly violent jolt. She cursed and threw them into the backseat. 

"Maybe a little. But Leon thinks it's a better idea to ship whole-leaf. Hiding it with the coffee, but we'll see what happens with port authority. We can pay some guys off but not enough, so it'll come down to the easiest way to get it stateside." 

Moira just nodded, an easy silence falling between them. Now that everything had been settled in Colombia, all he wanted to do was get home and make sure everything was still ticking along smoothly.

He had been mildly worried that the Italians would jump at the opportunity to cause a little trouble while he was gone. So far, Leon hadn't heard anything from Veronica—or anything about her for that matter—but that didn't mean anything.

Something was always stirring in the underworld. Someone always making a move. Being away for any period of time made it harder for him to watch the chessboard.

He knew he should have just sent Leon to make these acquisitions, but he'd felt smothered by the city.

Distracted.

Remi shook the thought away. Turning slightly in his seat, he said, "Have you heard anything from Anya lately?"

The Irishwoman smirked at that. "I've seen her." Then she grew serious. "She doesn't know anything about Dimitri's business. She says he keeps her out of it. No place for women."

Remi laughed at her butchering of a Russian accent. 

"But she says his lieutenants are more willing to share." Now Moira kind of frowned.

"Jealousy doesn't become you, darling," Remi said lightly, knowing Anya was a topic that fell under highly complicated. 

She just sniffed lightly, sounding dismissive, but he could detect the notes of forced indifference in the small noise. After a moment, he said, "Well?"

"Remi, she knows I work for you. And she's still loyal to her father, mostly. And it's not exactly like we're having long chats when I do see her." Moira paused and glanced at him. "She has... plans."

"Does she now," he said softly. He thought about that for a second, turning over possibilities in his head. Eventually he decided to hold his silence until he could include Leon in the discussion.

Dissension in the Russian ranks was news to him, and he wanted to back the best horse if things came undone.

"What do you think?" he asked her.

Moira stayed quiet for a long time, squinting against the beams from the setting sun that managed to cut through the foliage. It would take a little better than an hour to get back to Cartagena.

"Anya would be easier to work with than Dimitri is," she finally said. "She's more interested in the business side of things. She doesn't have a taste for blood like her brother."

"Yuri," he said with distaste. He'd met the heir to the Russian mob in New Orleans once and only once, but that was one time too many.

To say he disliked the man was a severe understatement. Petty and violent, Yuri had a short temper and wasn't exceptionally intelligent. In short, he was dangerous and unpredictable.

More like unstable, he thought.

"Yes," Moira said, her tone mirroring his. "But we can't touch him."

"Certainly not." He sat forward, stripping out of his suit jacket and undoing his tie. They joined Moira's sunglasses in the backseat and he rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. "Would she have the backing within their organization? Could she do it by herself?"

Moira bit her lip. "Possibly. Yuri's made his fair share of enemies among his father's men. Most of the old guard agree with her father, but I've heard rumors that Mikhail and Viggo aren't pleased by what happened at the Dancing Doll."

"Yeah, I find nearly gutting a man and leaving him to be found isn't exceptionally business savvy."

It had been all over the news for weeks. Blood pooled across the fluorescent squares that made up the dance floor. No fingerprints on the body, including his own. No teeth. No way to identify the man.

Rumor had it Yuri had a problem with the guy. Something about a girl. Remi hadn't cared for details. He'd just been pleased that business had picked up at a nearby strip club he had three-quarters interest in nearby because of the incident.

"Anya thinks they might start to see things her way," Moira offered. "She knows she's got street-level guys on her side."

Slowly, Remi said, "Well, the next time you see her..." He hesitated, know Leon would have wanted to be part of this discussion. He sighed. "You tell her she won't get any arguments from me."

With a small sound of surprise, she raised an eyebrow. "Is this an official proclamation?" 

He curled his lip, not interested in her joking. Someone makes a remark about king of the underworld one time and he's relegated to a lifetime of jokes at his expense by the Irish stray he decided to bring home.

Then he shook his head. "No. Tell her how you want, but make sure she knows I can't do anything openly." He smiled slightly. "Not yet."

Moira nodded, and he could see how she tried to keep every possible emotion off her face. Apparently, Anya was still highly complicated, but he knew his words had pleased her at the very least.

"Will she ally with anyone else?" he asked as a final question. The last thing he needed was a gang-war. Things would stay neater if the Russians just kept it in the family.

Moira shook her head, lips pursing. "I don't know. Would you?"

Remi shrugged in response, hoping he'd never have to find out.

After that, they let the rest of the trek through the jungle pass in silence.

Remi fell into his own thoughts. The development with Anya was interesting, but not yet promising. He knew the Italians were still angry with him over his embarrassing Veronica.

 Currently, he was playing the risk of running afoul of both the Mexicans and the Chinese if they got wise to his little Colombian venture.

He sighed, watching the jungle fall to night.

It felt like things were about to get exciting.

Fun Fact: I may or may not have watched John Wick in the process of writing this chapter. I also had way too much fun getting a little more into detail about this side of Remi, though I'm sure buying an illegal coca plantation is not this easy.