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“See fella’s somebody who can use my proper name.”

He turned to Lola. “Not exactly. Undercover operative is a better term for it. I’m gathering intel on Diego Carrasco and his crew. It will be hard to shut him down because of diplomatic immunity, but I can get the people in the U.S. who are funding the North American arm of his operation.”

Peter turned around in his seat and looked at his friend. “That’s the thing I don’t get, man. Why the fuck is Upwood helping him?”

“Do you remember Colombia?”

Peter nodded. He remembered that one all too well. Come to think of it, that’s the last time he worked with Boomer.

“I’ve been under since then. As we were preparing to send our reports so we could stop the flow of drugs into the U.S., Upwood shut me down. I realized then that he was dirty. Diego had somehow turned him, and he became a spy for Colombia of sorts.”

Peter whistled. That was fucked up.

“I contacted the then director of the CIA and told him what was going on, but he wanted me to get more intel. I told him the only way I thought that would happen was if I went undercover in Diego’s ring, so he approved it. Turned out to be easier than I thought. I started hinting to Upwood that I was thinking about retirement because the agency didn’t pay enough to put up with their bullshit. He had no idea I suspected him of being turned. That’s when the bastard started talking about how he knew how to make a few quick bucks. Back then he was just a station chief in Colombia. When Diego and I first met, it took everything in my power not to off the fucker right there. He was looking for people in the U.S. to help him find and recruit girls into prostitution rings, on top of keeping an eye on what he called his Colombian cattle. Girls from his own country that he was smuggling into the states.”

Peter cursed. “And Upwood was going along with it?”

“Upwood was using his position to call in favors and fast track visas to get girls from Colombia into the U.S. where they were being promised better lives in exchange for working for a few years at strip clubs Diego’s gang was controlling. And Diego, by the way is a corrupt Colombian intelligence officer himself so I knew I couldn’t just go to the police with this and I had already tried going to the U.S. government.”

Ripley’s knee bounced up and down as if he couldn’t control it while he told his story. “Things were going good and I was on the verge of having enough evidence to bring Upwood down and possibly Diego too. Then the bastard went and got himself named CIA director. When I heard that he was being named director, I knew I had to get out. He was going to have to go through senate confirmation hearings, so I started looking for ways to extricate myself. Upwood believed I had retired and was no longer working for the CIA and was just working for Diego. Once he took over as director, he would be able to see that I was still on the payroll even though my official jacket said I had retired, so I jumped ship and went to the NSA.”

Beside him, Lola huffed. Peter turned to her. “You got something to add?” he asked.

“I’m just not buying it is all. I got stuck in Colombia. Detained by police when I went on a mission trip there and had a little too much to drink. Carrasco and his goons ‘helped’ me get back into the states and put me to work in the Doll House until I payed off my debt. Tried to leave multiple times and couldn’t. If Ripley is telling the truth, why didn’t he help me escape when I tried?”

It was a valid question. Not many people understood how far deep cover operatives really had to go to get the intel they needed.

“I couldn’t, Lola. I don’t expect you to understand or to forgive me, but I can assure you I do not have goons. Diego has goons.”

“And you’re one of them,” she spit.

“Ask your dad,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’m one of the good guys, Lola. I promise. Have I ever laid a finger on you or any of the other girls?” he asked.

With drooping shoulders, she shook her head. It might still take some convincing, but she would get there.

Gage cleared his throat. “We’re almost back to the house. Should we wait to finish your little story so Carrie and Tom can hear everything?”

“I’m going to need to read my boss in on this or I’m going to get my ass fired or arrested,” Peter said. “Unless you think he’s connected too.” He peered around the headrest at Ripley.

“I don’t think so. I do think he plays a lot of politics and is willing to turn a blind eye to some shady shit if it’s going to advance his career though.”

Peter nodded. He was starting to see that most of the high-ranking positions in D.C. were filled with people like that. Was that what it took? Maybe he should rethink his goal to be named director.

“I figure we’ve got about twelve hours to figure this shit out before the FBI is banging on my door,” Gage said as he pulled into his driveway.

“Sounds about right.”

The front door flew open before they could even get out of the car. A tiny ball of blue and blonde hair came hurtling off the porch and toward them.

“Get your ass back in the house,” Peter hollered as he stepped out of the car. It was too late though, Carrie was to him and had her arms around him by the time he had both feet on the ground. His heart constricted as he pulled her into his arms. “I love you so fucking much,” he said as he hauled her up for a kiss.

“I’m so glad you came back safe,” she said through tears when he pulled away. Her eyes traveled to the other three people who had climbed out of the vehicle.

“Lola! I’m so glad you’re safe too,” she said when her eyes landed on the girl.

“Hate to break up the reunion but we should really get inside,” Ripley said.

Inside, Carrie stared at Ripley. Her face white.

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