Page 26 of Power Surge

“They aren't inexperienced,” I snap. “Those men have kept me safe from a hell of a lot the past couple of years.” I struggle to keep my cool. “How about a compromise?” I arch a brow. “Agent Smith can join the team but not as team lead. Those agents follow Team Lead Washington because he hasearnedtheir trust and respect. I won’t leave my team vulnerable while you try to make another agent fit into a role that is already filled.”

“Noted.”

The worn fabric of the chair’s seat catches the fine material of my Chanel suit pants as I twist to look at my team’s new agent.

Taller than me by a few inches, from what I can tell still sitting, with dirty-blond hair and smooth fair skin. Stormy gray eyes slide to me, and the emptiness behind them draws me back an inch. With his average haircut, standard charcoal gray suit, and nondescript facial features, he’s someone I could forget the moment he’s out of sight. Almost like he’s trying to look as plain and blendable as possible. Maybe he was trained to do so.

Interesting.

“CIA.” Agent Smith doesn't even acknowledge I said anything. “NSA?” Nothing. “Homeland Security?” The loose-fitting jacket shifts with his deep inhale. Seems I’m either annoying or boring to Mr. Spy. “MI6, Mossad, Russian intelligence?”

Even though I know he’s not a part of the latter because the Russian president and I are besties, and he would’ve given me a heads-up about this.

The director speaks up, halting my interrogation. “With several years of service to this country in a different capacity, Agent Smith was recently reassigned to the Secret Service Division.”

I shoot her a suspicious side-eye perusal. “Reassigned, you say.” I chew on my lower lip, something I’ve been doing more since my attempt to stop anxiously chewing on my nails. “Here’s what you need to know about my expectations of the team. If you're an arrogant bastard, it’s fine, you'll fit in well, but I won't put up with sexist or male chauvinist shit.” I wince at the curse slip. “Chauvinist crap.” There. That'sslightlybetter. “And Agent Washington will be the one to make the final call on all decisions.”

The director’s chin dips in acceptance, but Agent Smith doesn’t make any attempt to acknowledge I spoke.

“I'll ensure Agent Washington understands the situation and consequences of not utilizing Agent Smith’s unique skill set for the team,” the director states.

I debate this kink in the plan to gain my previous team back. Rolling my shoulders, I stiffen my spine. In negotiations, you always get out when you're ahead, which I did today, even if it comes with a small burden.

“Sounds like I don't have an option if I want my team back.” I steal a quick glance at my watch. “Hell, I'm already running behind and it's only nine.” Rubbing at my temples, I sigh. “I'll leave you to figure out the logistics of the team switch. I’ll need to meet with Agent Washington before the official change to inform him of my upcoming travel schedule and additional adjustments that have changed since I stepped into the role.”

The wooden frame creaks as I push off the thin arms of the chair to stand. The new agent shifts, his light gray eyes meeting mine when I pause in front of him.

“You have a first name, Agent Smith?” I ask as I straighten out my jacket and grab my handbag from the floor.

“Yes.”

I pause, waiting for more before realizing he’s said all he’s going to say on that subject. “Fine.” I roll my eyes in sheer annoyance at him and this already off-schedule day. His widen a fraction before flashing back to general boredom. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it out of you at some point over the next couple of years. I’m Randi Sawyer, by the way. Nice to meet you.” My extended hand dangles in the small space separating us, waiting for him to reciprocate in my common courtesy handshake.

After a few tense moments, his hand engulfs mine. The contact lasts less than a second before he returns his hand to his side. I gape at my now empty hand, deliberating if I imagined the brief encounter entirely.

“This will be interesting,” I mutter under my breath as I brush past him. At the door, I school my features and pull it open.

Ten sets of intense stares greet me, but I only focus on Trey.

“Walk with me,” I order while motioning between Trey and Tank. The two fall into step beside me as we march back through the office building. “She agreed with one condition.” Hooking a thumb over my shoulder, I gesture to the near-mute Agent Smith. “He's joining the team effective immediately.”

Tank grunts a curse. I refrain from wincing. I know this isn’t ideal for him.

“I had to give somewhere, T. We need to discuss a few things that have changed since I left the VP role, go through my routine in the White House, upcoming travel, and I’d also like for you to meet with the team lead of the current alpha team to discuss active threats against me and your plans for protection detail. Can both of you come by one day this week?”

“Yes,” T says, responding for them both. “What day works best for you?”

Our quick pace slows as we approach the bank of elevators. Trey hits the Down indicator before moving back to my right side.

“My schedule is crazy these days. I'll ask my secretary to give you a call to find a time that works for all of us.”

A rude, sarcastic snort to my right snags my attention. Rotating, I arch a questioning brow at Trey. “Is there a problem?”

“Not at all,Madam President.”

Irritation flares through my veins, building heat beneath my skin. The sharp ding of the arriving elevator doesn’t deflect the tense stare down he and I are having. Tank steps into the awaiting elevator first, followed by another agent.

“Out,” I say, snapping my fingers.

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