Page 99 of Power Switch

My mouth gapes. What am I supposed to say back to that?

“But you didn't, so here we are.”

“What about Kyle?” I blurt. “There’s no way he’s aware that you're here right now, offering to help.”

Shawn huffs into the glass now at his lips. “He's a fool too. Didn’t even think twice as to why I was offering up her location without any strings attached to the favor. He's panicking, which is deadly to everyone around him. You cornered a wounded animal, Trailer. What the fuck did you think would happen?”

“Why are you helping me?”

“Like I said, I hedged my bets, and right now you're the winning dog in this race. What will it be, Trailer Trash? Your daughter’s location for a small nomination, or sticking to your guns and hoping that pussy is bluffing?”

Sweat dots my brow and upper lip even though I’m shivering. I gnaw on a bit of ragged nail. Trey's intense stare burns into me, but I don't look to him for guidance because this isn't about him. It's only about saving Taeler.

“I'll do it. Now where's my daughter?” I put as much strength into the words as possible, but it costs me. Slumping back, I steady myself against a built-in bookshelf to stay upright.

“If only it were that easy. I'll need a written agreement before sending the coordinates and details to your rent-a-cop boyfriend.”

My ears and lawyer brain perk up at the mention of a written agreement.

“Seriously? You want a paper trail or an electronic trail of what you're agreeing to? It's blackmail, Shawn. Now who's the fool?”

A high-pitched squeak from his grip tightening along the sweating glass pierces the room.

“They won’t be traceable.”

I force a snort—first time for everything. “You can't believe that. Did you see the information I have on Kyle? The videos, the voice recordings, pictures, emails. Everything is traceable, Shawn.Everything.”

He leans forward, holding the delicate glass between both hands.

“Howdidyou get that information, Trailer?”

My smile is edged with near hysteria and a shit ton of loathing for the bastard sitting on my couch. “Not a chance in hell am I giving up my source.”

I can almost see the wheels turning in his brilliant yet evil brain. “Fine. No agreement. But if you go back on this, Trailer, youwillpay. With your life or someone’s you love, there will be retribution.”

Swallowing hard, I dip my chin in agreement. Whatever. I'll worry about all this later. Right now all I need are those damn coordinates.

“Fine. Now where the hell is my daughter?”

26

Trey

Strain pulses through the Suburban with a throbbing beat as our caravan of SUVs speed through the empty streets of Washington DC. Our destination? The White House. Our goal? Kill the motherfucking president.

Okay, that's not theactualgoal, but I desperately wish it were.

Instead, our less lethal objective is to bitch-slap the bastard until he resigns from the presidency. Behind me, Sam fidgets to the point of annoyance, and to his left, Randi stares, uncommonly calm, at the back of Tank’s shiny head.

Glancing over my shoulder, I check on her again. She’s been in this strange catatonic-type state for a while, only breaking out of it the few minutes after we got word that Taeler was rescued and safe. It took the team in Paris just a couple of hours to get her to the embassy after receiving the exact coordinates from Shawn.

I tighten my grip around the hard handle. It had to happen. I know it did; we wouldn’t have gotten Taeler back if Randi hadn’t said yes to Whit’s demands. But holy hell, we might be in worse trouble with him as VP than Birmingham as president.

“Is your head in the right space for what's about to go down?” Tank murmurs. Stealing a quick glance my way, he sighs. “You know things can go from zero to shit storm in less than a second.”

“I'm aware. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine.”

He huffs. “I'm more worried that you'll see Birmingham and kill him on sight before we even get a chance to confront him.”

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