Page 41 of Power Surge

“What are you doing here, Trouble? What’s going on?”

Slipping both hands into the pockets of my slacks, I hitch my chin in the direction of the room I left behind for this one. “Tank asked me to do him a favor.”

“And what was that favor? To race into my room and scare the shit out of me?” A single dark brow lifts higher on her forehead.

“Nope. To stay the night, with you, in this room.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

Her sharp snort fills the room. I can’t help but smile even though I’m dead on my feet. Randi’s loose dark hair shifts along the silk robe with the shake her head. “I’m not buying it, Trouble. Like T would allow you to stay in here with so many curious eyes around us.”

Hitching my chin toward the door, I point an elbow in the same direction. “I’ve got it from here. You're good to go, Smith. Radio Tank and let him know I'm in place and to send the beta team agents to relieve you.”

“I don't like it,” he states, his eyes scanning every corner of the room.

I glide my fingers through the soft strands of my hair. “Don't like what?” I don’t cover the exhaustion in my gritty tone.

“What you said with the open window. It doesn’t make any sense why it would be when all the others in the place are sealed tight.” Randi and I share a surprised look. Smith said a whole sentence. Two, in fact, back to back. That’s the most he’s spoken since he was forced on the team.

“Maybe one of the guards got hot,” Randi suggests. She wraps her arms across her chest and chafes her hands up and down her biceps.

“No, those guards wouldn’t leave their king or our president vulnerable by leaving such a gaping hole in our defenses. An open window offers anyone waiting a way inside undetected.”

“And how would you know what to look for?” Randi asks, pitching forward an inch, completely engrossed in Smith’s words. Hell, I am too.

He shoots a condescending expression across the room at her before going back to examining the area with his laser focus.

“Let's secure the room,” I offer, ready to get it cleared and myself in the massive bed that looks like absolute heaven. It’s not that I don’t buy his assessment, but we have too many agents and twice as many guards protecting Randi and the king. Unless someone knew our weaknesses or plans, there’s no way someone would get close enough to do either harm. “Then you go get some rest. You're no good to her or us exhausted. That publicity breakfast first thing in the morning is a security nightmare with all the press that’s invited, so we need everyone on their A game.”

An expression I can’t read flashes across his face. Eyes narrowed, I take in the agent beside me, trying like hell to figure him out.

“Are you concerned?” Randi asks. She looks to the balcony doors and takes a cautious step toward me.

If I weren't studying him, I would’ve missed his minuscule nod.

“Because an open window is what you'd look for if you were trying to find a way inside,” I say as a statement. “What are you thinking, Smith? Spit it the fuck out. We don’t have time for bullshit.” His file was so redacted we have no idea which agency he came from, but my gut tells me CIA. Which means we should heed whatever concerns he has.

“It means one of two things. Either it’s a signal for something or an access point for someone to gain entrance into the palace. Either option says someone inside this damn place is working with someone on the outside.”

My protective instincts flare. In two strides, I’m beside her, gripping Randi's thin waist and locking her to my side. “Secure the fucking room, then radio Tank and tell him we need more agents stationed outside her room than we planned.”

Randi’s entire body trembles beneath my tight hold as Smith combs the room, checking every nook and cranny with his gun drawn. Taking a knee, he shines a light under the bed for several moments to check the shadows beneath.

“I thought monsters under the bed were a myth,” Randi says, her voice high.

Smith stands and shifts across the room to check the reading area she was in when we first arrived. “The monsters I know don’t live in the shadows, and they sure as hell don't need you to believe in them to exist. They wait, they watch, and then they strike without you ever aware they were there.”

Randi’s throat works, her breaths quickening. “The ones I know stalk you out in the open, making you feel trapped, surrounded.” She sneaks a glance to the open hall door. “Hopeless.”

Smith pauses his examination of the room to focus on her before sliding his hard stare to me.

I let out a sigh. The returning callouses on my palm scrape down my face. “The previous president, Birmingham, associated himself with more than a few sketchy characters.” His attention hones in, listening to my every word while he continues checking the room. “There was—is—one worse than the rest. One who’s more sociopath than conniving. Shawn Whit, the previous director of interior. He’s always had it out for Randi, going as far as poisoning her even.” My grip tightens around her waist. “A few months ago, he propositioned Randi with something she wanted to force her hand—”

“Not something,” she hisses, maneuvering out of my tight hold. Swiveling on her bare feet, Randi turns her full focus to Smith, who's checking behind the curtains and thick tapestries draped along the windows and patio doors. “The location of my daughter, Taeler.” Smith’s hands pause, his attention now solely on her. “She was abducted while in France, and the bastard knew where she was and who was holding her.”

Stretching between us, I lace my fingers with hers and lift her hand to kiss the inside of her palm. “For the location of her daughter in Paris, Randi was forced to agree to Shawn’s demand. Then when it came time to follow through on that promise, she went another direction.”

---