Page 34 of Power Surge

I furrow my brows. “What in the hell is Todd up to with the Russian angle? And what can I say? Vlad is a nice guy. Terrible fashion sense, but he comes through when I need him.” Trey fights a smile, the corners of his lips twitching upward. “But even he couldn't get the names we need.”

“What if we can't find who's funding them?” Sam asks, lost in deep thought as he stares at the imitation fruit piled in an ornate bowl on top of the coffee table.

“Funded, remember? And we will. One way or another, we will.” Dipping my chin, I take a deep breath. “This situation isn't ideal, but if we don't do anything, then those countries will turn on each other thinking the other is responsible for the attacks, and then we’ll be pulled into it to help our allies. If we tell them what's going on, then we risk their vengeance for inadvertently funding a terrorist cell that's currently attacking them. Anyone else have a better idea?”

At their silence, I nod. Standing tall, I fix my dress shirt, tucking it back into my black slacks.

“So there we have it. I'll reach out to the director of the CIA and get him up to speed. Then I'll talk to the Saudi king, telling him to not retaliate but defend himself until we can figure out what's going on.”

“And when we do? When we find these bastards, what's next?” T asks.

“We take them out. I think the SEALs are speed dial four.” I attempt a nonchalant smile, but it falls flat. “The bigger threat is the men moving the money around, forcing us into a war all for their monetary reasons. This is a solid-ish plan. I like it.” Their shared look tells me they don't think it's as solid as I think it is. “I'll try to calm the king down, and any other surrounding countries if I have to, all while the CIA finds out who's behind all this and then we take them out. Problems solved, and I'll have officially granted every Miss America contestant’s wish for world peace.” I raise both hands, sporting peace signs for emphasis.

I’m officially a lost cause. Let’s just hope I can refrain from doing anything stupid with my hands when I meet the king.

“Just one small hurdle in all this,” Trey says, his tone low and serious.

“I see no holes,” I state, completely bluffing. This plan is like crumbling swiss cheese.

“There is no way in hell we will let you enter a country that is currently under attack.”

I shoot a side-eye glare at Trey. “Doesn't everyone have to do what I say? Isn’t that perk number one of being president?”

“You're not the queen,” Sam interjects, humor lacing his tone as he watches Trey and me. “But yeah, you have—”

“Let me rephrase that, then.Iwon’tlet you step foot in a country that is being fucking bombed.”

My jaw pops open, my mouth gaping at Trey in astonishment. I should be furious at him not “letting me,” but the bolt of fiery desire that shot to my core at his authoritative tone and words keeps the anger at bay.

“Excuse me?” I breathe.

“Tank, Pierce, give us a minute.” Trey's hard stare never leaves mine. “I need a moment alone with the president.”

The room shrinks even more as the other two file out, shutting the door behind them. My fingers tighten along the edge of the desk at the building anticipation. Each step is calculated as Trey stalks from where he leaned against the far wall to where I rest on the edge of the desk. He doesn't pause until we're toe to toe. My back bows as I’m forced to lean back to see his face when he places both hands on my hips and dips closer.

“I'm fucking done with you making decisions on your own that risk your life. You hear me, Mess? I don't care what your title is or who you've sworn to protect and uphold above yourself. You're mine, and I'm hell-bent on protecting you fromyourselffrom now on.”

Chapter Ten

Randi

“Ishould be pissed at your sexist claiming, but—” I don’t stop my visible shiver. “—I'm too fucking turned on by it to be mad.”

Then it happens. The flicker of confidence mixed with the cocky, caring asshole who’s been missing for weeks lights behind his eyes. The fine lines at the corners spider outward with his signature smirk.

“Something happened,” I say in awe as I place a hand against his cheek. “Something good.”

“Yeah, something happened. I'm figuring things out, slowly.” Leaning close, he brushes his slick lips along the shell of my ear. My lids flutter closed. I press both thighs tightly together to relieve the painful throb building at the apex. “And you forget how well I know your kinks, Mess. You’ve always loved when I take control in the bedroom. I'm not shocked my demand made you wet for me. It did, didn’t it, baby? Tell me. Tell me how you’ll be a good girl and listen to me.”

With a sexually frustrated groan, I pitch forward, pressing my forehead against the soft fabric of his dress shirt. Forcing each breath in and out of my nose, I attempt to slow my heavy breaths.

“What do you expect me to do?” I ask, trying to get this conversation back on track before I give in to the urge to lean back on the desk and beg him to take me right here in the Oval Office. “Sam's tried to settle the leaders. Then there’s the fact that they hate my secretary of state—”

“Because he's fucking weak and a conniving fool who’s trying desperately to prove his worth right now and failing miserably.”

“Wow, tell me how you really feel,” I say with a grin tugging on my lips. “But that leaves me to work my magic, to see what I can accomplish by meeting with the leaders over there while the CIA finds out who's behind all this.”

Every nerve ending flashes red hot as two of his fingers trail up the inside of both thighs. Even with the thin fabric of my slacks blocking his touch from brushing bare skin, tingles erupt in their wake.

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