Remi checked his watch. The plane was late. He sighed, putting his sunglasses on as he leaned against Leon's Mercedes, crossing his arms. "Can I ask what's the point of having a private jet if it's not ready to go when I am?"

"Do you realize you ask the exact same question every time?" Leon responded,  his phone at his ear, most likely listening to one of the thousands of messages he recieved every day. "It's not the jet, it's the runway. There's some sort of backup getting planes in the air."

Remi sighed heavily and Leon took the phone away from his ear, deleting the message. 

"Anything important?" Remi asked, wanting something to distract himself from his own thoughts.

"Moira says she's on her way and also that she's sorry."

"Sorry? What'd she do?" Remi raised an eyebrow. "You brought my tan suit, right?"

"Yes. I don't know," Leon answered in the reverse of the order the questions had been asked. "Maybe she scratched the Aston."

"What have I ever done to you," Remi asked, wishing he had some coffee. After Charlie's, he'd ended up wandering over to Jedd's place and drinking with the old war dog until the early hours of the morning. "Why would you say something like that to me?"

Leon smirked slightly, putting his phone in his pocket. "She didn't say. You'll have to ask her. Why are we going to Cartagena again?"

Because I need to remove myself from temptation.

Remi shook his head. "With Rendon-Herrera gone there's a scramble concerning control of the plantations. The Mexicans are planning—"

"To take over, yeah I know," Leon said, his own sunglasses hiding his eyes. "But we've got a deal with the cartels, both the Mexicans and what's left of the Colombian gangs. So... I'll go back to my original question. Why are we going to Cartagena?"

"Because," Remi drew out the word, "what do you know about the coca plant?"

"You want to own a plantation?" Now Leon raised an eyebrow. "That's a little on the nose, don't you think? Being a son of the south and all that."

"You were born on the same street I was," Remi reminded him. "I want to own several plantations. Pay off the farmers. They can keep their land, I'll give 'em a better cut than the cartels and then we'll ship it to LA and Miami."

"And the Mexicans?" Leon scowled when his phone buzzed again, taking it out of his pocket. He held up the device, letting Remi read the name.

"Take it," he said with a sigh. "Tanada gets testy if you ignore him."

Leon hit the answer button and walked away. Not that it made a difference. Remi didn't speak enough Japanese to follow a conversation anyway. That's what he had Leon for.

A familiar truck pulled up to the gate and he waved at the security guard to let her pass. Her apology through Leon was driving him mad with curiosity. Rarely if ever did Moira need to apologize to him.

She pulled to a stop next to Leon's car. He watched as she grabbed her bag out of the backseat. Briefly, he toyed with the idea of asking her to stay in New Orleans to keep an eye on things, but dismissed it, knowing she would see right through him.

He waited until she was standing in front of him and her bag was placed on the ground. Her hands went behind her back and he frowned at her.

Before he could say anything, she said, "Charlie was in the truck with me this morning."

He blinked slowly.

"When you called," she clarified.

His arms dropped to his sides, every word he'd said echoing in his ears. Then he blew out a sigh. "Well. That is unfortunate." He took off his sunglasses, squinting in the light off the clouds. "Is there any particular reason you didn't, oh, I don't know, give me a little heads up?"

Moira pursed her lips, then shrugged. "She's beginning to piss me off."

"What?" Remi said blankly. 

"You're handing her the damn world on a silver plate and all she can do is bitch about you," Moira growled. "I thought she needed to hear the truth. That she can't do this without you. And what's worse? You bloody allow her to! Why? What makes her so special?" Under her breath, she muttered, "Ya'd think it would kill her to show a little gratitude."

"She doesn't owe me gratitude," Remi said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "She can be mad all she wants, Moira. I seem to recall you having quite a lot to say when I dragged you out of London. Remember? What was that you called me?"

Moira had the grace to look down.

"There are two things and two things only she owes me, and that is her knowledge and her silence." Even as he said the words, he knew he wanted more.

Which was why he was going to Cartagena.

"I—"

"What did she say?" Remi interrupted. Leon had rejoined them and was standing a little off to the side, listening.

Moira sighed. "She said she doesn't want to see you when you get back."

"Is there any reason she would assume you would want to see her?" Leon asked, but Remi didn't even bother looking over at him.

Moira did, and Remi did not miss the look that passed between his two lieutenants. His teeth gritted, but all he said was, "Why were you with her this morning?"

"I was lookin' for you," Moira said, her voice quiet. He knew she could sense the anger pouring over his skin like acid. She'd always been able to read his moods. Sometimes even better than he himself could. "You weren't answerin' your phone and ya hadn't come home last night."

"I didn't want to come home last night," he snapped. "I was working."

Leon raised an eyebrow, but didn't correct him. Remi shook his head, putting his sunglasses back on.

"I was... concerned," Moira said, her pretty mouth twisting to the side as she tried to keep her emotions in check.

He tipped his head back, glaring at the low cloud-cover, knowing it wasn't really Moira he was mad at. Still, he said, "I don't need your concern. I need to know that I don't need to worry you're going to let someone else overhear something they shouldn't."

A small gasp escaped her, her hazel eyes going wide. Leon frowned at him, but held his silence.

He'd long ago learned how to find the easiest target that would inflict the most damage. He would have hurt her less if he'd run a knife through her heart. Calling into question Moira's loyalty left her trembling with anger and hurt, and a very small flash of guilt sparked in his chest, but it was easily smothered by his frustration.

All he could wonder was how far back she'd set him with Charlie.

Moira opened her mouth again, but he shook his head, effectively shutting down the conversation. Lips pressed together in a tight line, then she said, "I'm sorry. I'll talk to Ch—"

"No," Remi interrupted. "No. You've done plenty. I'll talk to her when we get back."

Moira looked surprised when he said we, but he couldn't very well go waltzing through Colombia without someone to watch his back. And even as mad as he was, he knew there was none better than Moira. With a shake of his head, he looked at his watch, then scowled at the Cessna sitting in front of him.

He wanted to go. Work and dangerous people would clear his head.

All three of them watched as the plane was readied, until finally the flight attendant walked over. 

"We're ready for you, Mr. Robicheaux," she said, smiling politely.

"'Bout damn time," he muttered under his breath. "Thank you," he said more loudly, striding toward the plane.

Again, he caught Moira and Leon sharing a beleaguered look.

When they were settled in the jet, the flight attendant asked if they would like anything to drink.

"Coffee. Black," Remi said immediately. Leon followed suit, but Moira just shook her head at the woman before making her way as far to the front—and as far from Remi—as she could manage.

Remi took off his suit jacket, loosening his tie before sitting down, looking out the small window down at the tarmac.

Leon wisely waited until the flight attendant came back with their coffee, and Remi had finished at least half the cup before he started talking.

"So, aside from you not wanting the Mexicans to have total control of the supply, why else are we considering buying coca plantations in Colombia?" he asked, then pulled a small notebook out of his jacket.

Remi eyed the small, black-leather bound notebook. It was a familiar sight, and one that constistently worried him. 

"What do you do with those?" he asked, gesturing toward the small notebook Leon was flipping through. "After they're filled, what do you do with them?"

Leon looked up, the pen he was holding hovering over a blank page. "I read through them, decide what has to be kept, then burn them."

"What do you do with the pages you keep?" He knew there was absolutely no way Leon would leave any damning evidence lying around, but he needed something to train his mind on.

Otherwise this was going to be a very long flight.

"I have a filing system," Leon said mildly.

Remi waited, then sighed, taking another sip of coffee. Idly, he wondered if it was Colombian, and the side of his mouth twitched at the thought. "Let's buy some coffee plantations too."

Leon's eyes brightened. "Glad to see you're at least thinking." He scribbled something down. "The coffee certainly helps with quite a few of the logistics. Not to mention any other trips to Colombia can be chalked up to that. Will we also be sending coffee to LA and Miami?"

"Of course," Remi said with a small smile. 

While he'd been considering the situation in Colombia since Herrera's  extradition that year, the coffee had been a spur of the moment decision. But he didn't mind acting like it had been the plan all along.

Like Leon said, it made it seem like he'd been actually thinking over these past few days.

The jet taxied along the runway finally and Remi watched out the window as they took off, rapidly gaining altitude, then turned his attention back to Leon. "Do everything aboveboard on the coffee. Make it traceable directly to me."

Leon nodded, still writing in his notebook. 

"As for the coca plantations..." He frowned, knowing he should have squared this with Leon weeks ago. "I don't suppose there is a suitcase of untraceable cash somewhere on this plane?"

Now he scoffed, giving Remi a rare grin. "What happened to 'we're not a damn movie, Leon, this is real life'?" 

Remi shrugged, signalling to the flight attendant for another cup of coffee. Leon shook his head when she moved to grab his cup as well.

"I'm fine, thank you," he said, then he raised an eyebrow. "I suspected as soon as you called that we were going somewhere to spend money. We have a company in Brazil. Something about rubber trees. I'm sure they'd be more than happy to accommodate you."

"When did we get in rubber?" Remi asked with a frown.

"You didn't. Your father did. I just kept that company when you decided to clean house. Though, admittedly, that did jumpstart things quite nicely, didn't it."

"You did what?" Remi's fingers dug into the armrests of his seat.

Leon sighed. "Don't start with me, please. You know I know better than anyone about... all that... but it was something easy to slide into your portfolio. No one knew that—"

"I know." Remi turned to glare out the window. "I know that no one knew. You know why I know that?"

"Because dear old dad never pretended otherwise," Leon said wearily.

Remi closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh through his nose. "Okay, fine. Any other businesses I don't know about?"

"Coal in West Virginia. Diamonds in Africa," Leon said promptly.

"What kind of diamonds?" he asked, voice more bitter than he meant it to be.

"Not the blood kind." Leon closed the notebook with a snap. "The rubber's legal too. Seriously Remi, when was the last time you even looked at what you own?"

"That's what I have you for." He rubbed his eyes, his stomach starting to growl. "Once we get there start sending out feelers about the coffee. I want something good, but not excellent. I won't spend more than fifty. Use..." He trailed off, frowning.

"Your credit card?" Leon finished dryly. "I believe you left it in New Orleans."

Remi made a small snarling sound, then turned to face Leon directly. "What is your problem with her, Leon? What about her has you so damn concerned. She's just another woman. You never cared about any of the others. So what makes her so special?"

"Exactly, Remi," Leon said with a sigh. "What makes her so special?"

He fell silent, frowning fiercely at his lifelong friend. "What are you talking about?"

There was a scoffing sound from the front of the cabin, but he couldn't see where Moira had settled. He gritted his teeth again to keep from attempting to throw the both of them out of the jet. Then he turned back to Leon, raising a severe eyebrow.

"I get why you paid her off," Leon said. "I understand that, by paying her way through school, you somehow guarantee that she will be at your beck and call when someone gets shot... But there are also dozens of illicit old doctors. Guys who've been workin' with people like you and me for decades. Why drag someone like her down into our world?"

"Are you concerned, Leon?" Remi asked, voice soft and dangerous, though he wasn't sure he'd meant it to be.

"For you," Leon responded, leaning forward. "Three days you've been all but MIA. And we both know this isn't just sex, Remi. It's not like the others. You've got something else with her, and I'd suggest you figure out what it is before things get... messy."

A moment of silence descended around them, stifling as a thick blanket. Moira peered around the side of the seat she'd curled up in, watching both Remi and Leon with hollow, serious eyes.

Have I really worried her that much?

Remi nearly scoffed at himself. Who cared? He knew what he was doing, and they could worry if they wanted to. It just irritated him that they seemed to think Charlie had turned him into some kind of idiot.

He let out a small sigh and took a sip of coffee. It had gone cold. "Maybe you're right," he started, making Leon blink in surprise. "Maybe it is more than just sex. But either way it doesn't change anything, and she knows that. Nothin's changed here, Leon. Nothin' at all."

Even as he said the words, he wasn't sure he believed them. One look at Leon's and Moira's faces and he knew they didn't believe them.

A small growl fought its way free. He wanted to walk away from them, but didn't have anywhere to go. So he settled for turning back to the window.

"Have the money wired from one of the casinos or something," he ordered. "The legal money. Anyone watching will know exactly where the money came from, and exactly where it's going. Then look into what the hell ever we need to do to be labelled fair trade. These purchases will be above reproach. Meanwhile, Moira and I will go talk to the coca growers."

Leon nodded. "I'll get you some numbers on going rates."

Looking up, Remi found Moira still watching him carefully. Obviously, his conversation with Leon had not satisfied her and he knew as soon as they were stuck together she would grill him about everything with Charlie.

He'd need to take some time to get his answers straight.

Fun Fact: Daniel Rendon-Herrera is a real drug lord in Colombia extradited to Brooklyn in April 2018 and is considered a narco-terrorist and one of the most feared drug lords in Colombia. He had been captured by Colombian officials in 2009, but it was only fairly recently that several Mexican cartels began moving into Colombia because of the weakening of several of the Colombian cartels along with certain paramilitary groups. The general understanding is that the Mexican cartels aren't working a traditional take-over, but they are becoming more involved in Colombia's changing crime-scape.

Also, I'm pretty sure eventually my Google searches will put me on an FBI watchlist of some sort XD