Page 198 of Allegiance

“You okay?” he whispered, knowing that the Joint Chiefs wouldn’t bust his balls. He was, after all, the President of the United States.

Because she had to be careful, she scribbled something on a piece of paper and passed it to him.

Gabe took it and read it.

‘New Orleans is about to blow, and we have children who were sold by Chevy. I have their locations. I need to get them back and get the men who bought them. If I interrupt these windbags, I’m toast. Help a girl out.’

Gabe read it and lifted a brow.

There was no way Elizabeth would ask him to stop the meeting unless she had absolute proof and needed to roll with it ASAP.

He trusted her with his life, the life of his children, and the whole country. There was no one more capable.

One might say she ran the FBI even better than Axelle, and that woman was damn good at it.

He looked at her.

Priority one? he asked, mouthing it.

She nodded.

Five-year-olds.

Well, then, that said it all.

Gabe wasn’t going to allow child trafficking to go down in his country and under his watch. So, he did what she needed.

“Gentlemen, something has come up. I need to speak to the head of the CIA, the Pentagon, and the general. Everyone else, we’ll have to do this another day. This is top priority over this meeting.”

You know you commanded a room when no one questioned why you were interrupting a meeting with very little left.

The people who weren’t needed left, understanding that shit like this happened.

A.

Lot.

As soon as the room was theirs, Gabe gave Elizabeth the floor.

“The Deputy Director of the FBI has an issue,” he said, allowing her to take over.

She stood in her pristine designer suit, wedding bands glinting on her finger, and the gold badge on her hip. Normally, she didn’t give two shits what she wore, but Gabe knew she was trying to command the room.

When in the White House, representing the FBI, she had to care. The men she was working with, and against, rode ass for the slightest imperfection.

She had to be impeccable.

Thank God for Callen’s stylist.

Clearly, he was a miracle worker, and for that, Gabe was glad.

She was spot on.

Leaning on the table, she explained.

“Here’s the situation. We have a sex trafficking ring in progress in New Orleans. The FBI needs help.”

The head of the CIA looked uninterested, which was normal because he was a boring piece of shit who only cared about his own career.