Page 33 of Power Surge

“Correct, resolving the unrest those bastards are stirring up is priority, keeping this from escalating further than it already has. Todd and my visits over the past few weeks have done minimal damage control, but we need more. We’ve let the other countries who’ve sustained smaller attacks know we're willing to assist in searching for the ones responsible while keeping it vague. We need to identify and locate them and hold them accountable.”

“And the one lead we had, the one person who knew all the players, is dead.” I gnaw on the red acrylic tip of my pinkie finger. “Speaking of Kyle, any news on that front?”

“What do you mean?” He undoes the two buttons of his suit jacket before reclining on the stiff couch, stretching his arms along the back. “The traitorous bastard did us a favor, even if it did leave a gaping hole in the investigation.”

“That's just it,” I muse. The chair swivels as I dig a stiletto heel into the carpet, twisting left, then right and back again. “It all seems convenient, doesn’t it? He demands a plea deal to keep him out of federal prison, offering the names of those he knew were involved on a silver platter. Then he ends up dead? It doesn’t make sense.”

“You've been watching too many crime shows, Madam President.” I whirl the chair around and stick my tongue out at his smiling face. “Birmingham simply realized no matter what information he gave the attorney general, he would see jail time.”

“I just think it’s fishy is all. And not like him. He was an arrogant son of a bitch, narcissistic at times. Hanging himself like that… hell, having the balls to do that….” I swivel the chair an inch right, then left as I process what I want to say. “I think someone else did it to shut him up.”

Sam's bright green eyes light with humor. “Oh really? And you think someone just snuck onto his estate while he was under federal house arrest and hanged him? All without leaving a trace of evidence behind? Come on, Randi, look at the evidence. It's clear he took the easy way out. There weren’t any defensive wounds, no sign of someone else being in that room the night it happened.”

Again my attention finds its way to the closed door that leads to the admin area. Something on the other side calls to me, urging me to swing it open and see what's waiting.

“They're the ones who called me.” He inclines his head toward the door I can’t drag my attention away from. “I would like to add that I was already on my way over.”

“Who?”

Giving in to the temptation, I grip the armrests and push myself out of the chair. My heels dig into the carpet as I stride to the door and pull it open. The clacking of keys, low murmuring voices, and high-pitched ringing of desk phones greet me. My secretary stands, hands fumbling at her side. With a forced tight-lip smile, I search the room, stopping when I find Trey and T lingering on the opposite side. Careful to keep my excitement and relief hidden, I motion for them to join me in the Oval Office.

Butterflies take flight in my stomach at the smirk Trey shoots my way as I stride across the small office. Yes, I have a potential war to resolve, but I can't help the giddy feeling of seeing him here. He came. Even after this morning, with the turmoil between us, Trey came.

For me.

“Feels like old times, meeting like this,” Trey says the moment the door shuts behind T. His honey eyes search mine, uncertainty pouring through them. I offer a hesitant smile, letting him know we’re good—for now. “I’m sure you’re aware, but those assholes who just left were visibly pissed about whatever happened in here. And that secretary of state of yours looked about to pee his cheap-ass slacks.”

An obnoxious snort escapes me. I slap a hand over my nose and mouth to make sure another doesn’t sneak out. The mischievous twinkle and smirk Trey sports as he crosses the room tells me my laugh was what he was striving for.

With a groan, I stretch both arms out wide before interlacing two fingers above my head, attempting to ease the ache building in my shoulders. “Yeah, they want military action and I said no. Which you’re both aware of the why behind that decision.”

“Yes and no. It's been several weeks since we've all been a part of detailed discussions,” T interrupts. “Catch us up.”

A grimace curls my lips as I slide one throbbing foot from its high heel jail, the other following immediately after. The soft carpet brushes the tips of my toes as I curl them, relishing in the freedom from captivity.

“Right, of course, T. I guess it has been awhile. As you both know, the money from Kyle’s drilling and oil scheme was being deposited into offshore accounts, then funneled to other groups and banks around the world. We don't know who that money was going to, but we do know the why. The money Kyle made by drilling on federal land is now funding—” I catch Sam’s arched brow. “Sorry, funded. The money funded several small insurgent groups of sorts, which are now wreaking havoc across the Middle East, making each country look to their neighboring enemies to blame. The best Sam and I can gather is their main goal is to stir shit up. Today's attack wasn’t the first, but it is at this scale. My military advisors want to move straight into military action, sending in troops to squash the threat.”

“Sounds like a solid plan,” T says as he sits on the rounded armrest of the couch opposite of Sam. “Guessing you don't like that plan or you have another in mind.”

I shake my head, my loose dark locks falling forward over both shoulders. I twirl a section between my fingers. “No, I don't like the military angle, and I don’t have another plan. None of my military advisors know what you know, and I don't want them to. If word gets out on what the US has inadvertently started, all hell will break loose. I will not let our country be blamed and attacked because of Kyle's actions. No, I will work with the leaders over in the Middle East to settle tempers a bit, at least give the CIA some time to work their magic. Once we have the names of the men running it all, we can stop all this at the source. Sending in the military will be a Band-Aid, not taking care of the actual problem.”

“You’re sayingyouwant totalkto them,” Trey says, both brows raised in question. “I get you don't want to involve the military at this point in the game, but do you think talking to them will actually resolve anything?”

“They'll think you're weak.” I shoot T a glare, and he shrugs. “I'm just voicing what we heard when those men left the Oval Office earlier. And they're right, Randi. Are you prepared for the world to see you as soft? They already assume you’re not fit for the role because you won’t make the hard choices. Now you’re wanting to decline military action to help out an ally and instead justtalkit out?”

I soak in his question, debating the right response. He’s right, but so am I.

“Of course I don't want to appear weak. They already think that because I’m a woman. Asshats. But I also won’t approve of our first steps being troops on the ground. This, my plan, is the right first step. I asked Todd to get a call scheduled between me and the king of Saudi Arabia. Then we go from there. I'll have the CIA identify the main players in this shit show, we'll take them out when they do, and then we're good to go. Easy.”

At least that's what I’m telling myself. This would be so much easier with unicorn assassins as an option.

“And what are you going to tell the king exactly?” Sam cuts in. “You know he’ll ask for military action. Hell, he already has, and now the media has caught wind of it. If you don’t offer aid or show him you’re serious about finding out what the hell is going on over there, then he’ll question your loyalty.”

I stare unfocused at Sam, processing his words. “You’re right. He needs to see that I’m taking the attack on their soil seriously.” Fingernail between my teeth, I pace from one end of the desk to the other. “I’ll go,” I blurt. A collective breath reverberates through the room as the three men ready themselves to insistently disagree. “No, wait, hear me out. I don't have it all figured out just yet, but I will. I'm thinking if I can go over there, show the king I'm serious about our support, I can convince him to wait on a direct response against those he believes are responsible. We can settle this with minimum bloodshed by me meeting with him face-to-face.”

“Why not ask Vlad?” Trey asks.

“Can't believe you're friends with the Russian president,” Sam grumbles. “Todd mentioned it to me, by the way. He wondered if I knew.”

---