Page 53 of Power Surge

“Little did he know it was Randi who I was hiding from, and who fired the first shot.” The rough scruff along my jaw scrapes my sensitive palms. “We need to teach her how to shoot. Not arm her, obviously, but how to aim at the very least so she can protect herself if necessary.”

“Let’s hope it’s not necessary ever again.”

The plastic bottle crinkles in my hand, drawing my attention and triggering a memory of another time her life was in danger. “Not that it would’ve done much good when she was being poisoned by that fucker Whit.” I press the hard edge against my lips and drain the last of the water. “What happened with tying Whit to that dumbass in the motorcade service department? Last I heard, they were trying to find a money trail, but of course, fucking Whit was too damn smart to leave evidence.”

“The case went cold, and the fucker is looking at years in prison. He wanted to take a deal but didn't know enough about who hired him to be of any use, so the AG threw the book at him.”

I twist the towel around my raw hands until it's almost cutting off circulation to my fingertips.

“You think it was Whit who sent the guy in Saudi Arabia? I've had my suspicions, but then again, Whit would want it to be more personal than an assassin. Unless they were hired to take her and deliver her to them.” My stomach knots tighter than the towel around my hand.

“Not sure. Either way, it was a real threat, and many more where that came from. On top of those she’s accumulated on her own, there are many who hate this country and would love to kill off the first female president. Hell, any president would do, but she seems like an easy target to them.”

“What’s your take on Smith?” I launch the empty bottle through the air; it sinks into the recycle bin with a quiet whoosh as it slides down the plastic bag. One of the deckhands notices my raised hand and tosses another. Damn, I love this place. Hopefully the feds unfreeze my accounts by the time the dues are required so I don’t have to give it up. “The vanishing act he pulled is concerning, even if he was off duty. You were, the other agents were too, but they sure as hell were there.”

Tank scrubs at his bald head and leans back against the wooden railing. It complains under his heavy weight. He glares at the length of wood like it personally offended him. His ire slides to me when I don't restrain my barking laugh.

“Your skinny ass wouldn't know what it's like,” he grumbles.

“Um, fucker, I'm lean. Not skinny. Just because people don't mistake me for a fully armored tank doesn't mean I'm skinny.” I huff into the water bottle at his returning grin. I’ve missed this. The back-and-forth, the ease of conversation with my best friend. I was too far gone during my “depression episode,” as Tank likes to call it, to realize how badly I need him in my life. I need him and Randi as much as I need air for survival.

“And I don't know what to think about Smith, honestly. He could've been off fucking one of the women hanging around the palace for all we know. I'm more concerned with the fact that either he screwed up or someone had a key to the president's suite.”

“Or they could’ve picked it,” I muse. “That initial noise I heard could’ve been him picking the lock. We didn’t test it like the hall door since there was no way inside, or so we thought.”

“No more assuming. This is the president of the United fucking States.”

“I see what you're doing,” I say with a side-eye scowl. “Don't think I don't.”

“What?” Zero innocence laces his tone.

“That you keep referring to her as the president so I'll keep the two separated.”

“If I don't, then you'll be boyfriend protective, which means volatile and emotional.”

A mischievous grin tugs at my cheeks. “You say that like it would be a bad thing.”

“If someone came after my Sarah, I'd burn the city down looking for the motherfucker and make him pay. So no, not a bad thing, Playboy. But not something we need to add to our plate of issues right now.”

“It kills me that people don't know,” I admit. “That no one knows she's mine. Even that jackass squatting in the White House.”

“Ah. So there's the rub that’s eating at you today. That's where all the extra energy came from. The ex is back in the picture.”

“He'snotback in anything,” I say through gritted teeth. “He's exploiting the situation with Taeler, using that as his in to freeload off Randi.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm,” I mock. “What?”

“Does she feel this way? About Ben freeloading, or does she see it as him being a caring father?”

A dribble of water slips past my lips. Wiping it with the towel, I toss the nasty thing to the laundry bucket. “She never said he was a bad father, just left her when she needed him most. Then let his parents railroad her.” My anger simmers. She did everything she could with what she had, and no one gave her a chance. It's why she's doing things right by the people of this country now.

Greed isn't in her vocabulary. Power isn't something she wants. Hell, I wouldn't even say acceptance or likability is something she strives for. Justice, state rights, and helping those who need it most are what drive Randi. And what makes her sexy as hell in my eyes.

“It's been three days since he showed up and posted up next to your girl, and here you are doing shit about it.”

“I'm not doing shit about it,” I snap. “She asked for some time to handle the media storm that came after the incident in Saudi Arabia and to deal with that fucker, so I'm giving it to her.”

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