Page 71 of Power Surge

“You're next, Madam President,” Champ says, standing beside the open door, keeping one eye on her, the other examining the tarmac for hostiles.

“They're more scared of me than I am of them.” Randi's words are a soft whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the murmuring voices of the agents crowded around her. “A unicorn is exactly what I need. Nothing says power like a horse with a weapon on its head.”

A minuscule smirk tugs at my lips before I shut it down. Clearing my head, I focus every cell, each breath, on the task at hand.

We step as one toward the door. As planned, I exit first. The soft morning glow of the sun barely cresting the surrounding buildings greets me. We calculated the timing perfectly; anyone looking to do her harm would be forced to stare straight into the rising sun, whereas we have the perfect vantage point with the sun at our back. The metal stairs shake beneath my weight as I carefully take each step down, scanning the entire area and the group of Egyptian delegates.

A stilted round of claps rings out in the quiet morning, signaling to me that Randi and Tank have exited the plane. At the bottom of the stairwell, I stop, waiting until my girl is at my side before shifting to the next step of the plan.

A rhythmic clink grows closer as she descends the stairs one step at a time in her stilettos.

Movement toward the end of the receiving line snags my attention. A man, one of the Egyptians, shifts anxiously from foot to foot. Even from here, the sweat dotting his brow and his shallow breaths are evident. My unease from earlier spikes. Wrist pressed close to my lips, I order a beta team agent to keep an eye on him. Agent Wright confirms visual, indicating he’ll handle the situation.

A breeze kicks up, wafting the aroma of sand, spices, and cherry vanilla my way as Randi pauses beside me.

With some gentle prodding, we help Randi make it through the receiving line within the fifteen-minute window we’d scheduled for her. One hand holding hers, the other cupping the back of her head, I help ease her into the limo and follow immediately after with Tank right behind me.

We all situate in our various seats. Tank beside Randi, me across but only a few seats away. Thankfully the Beast has been running and the air inside is crisp and cold, unlike the already steamy temperatures outside.

Desperate for the arctic blast, I angle several vents toward my clammy face and inhale deeply.

“You with me, Benson?” Tank questions from where he sits, his thumbs bouncing over the phone screen.

“Yeah, I'm good.”

“Why wouldn't he be?” Randi asks, not diverting her eyes from the iPad in her hand. An index finger slides up the screen over and over as she reviews the agenda for the day for the thousandth time and reminds herself of the names of the people she’ll be meeting with at the award ceremony at the embassy.

“It's nothing. Tank is just a hovering mother hen.” I adjust against the leather seat to scan the scenery as we zoom toward the embassy. “Think you can convince the Egyptian president all the uproar isn’t the US’s fault?”

“I have to, don’t I?” Her shoulders round from the weight of the world—literally—resting there. “Kyle left us in a fucking mess. I spoke to the CIA director two days ago. He said the names, locations—hell, any information—has been more evasive than he expected. They’re still working on identifying the men Kyle was in bed with, which means we need to keep this part of the world from warring against each other until they can. Until we have those names, I have to do everything I can to keep the peace.”

“What about what the Russian said, that you should consider military force? Get your military advisors’ advice.”

She shakes her head. “No, this is the best course of action. We continue to keep this as a need-to-know, and no military. Vlad meant well, but he doesn’t understand where I’m coming from.”

“Exactly. He’s used to military force and when to use it. I think—”

“We’ve been over this too many times, Trouble. I’ve made up my mind, and that’s how we’re going to handle it. We stopped the attempt on my life in Saudi Arabia, so they know I’m well protected. I’m safe.” I steal a worried glance at Tank. “Now stop diverting. Why wouldn't you be good?” With more force than necessary, she presses the power button and tosses the now dark iPad to the seat beside her.

“It’s nothing, like I said. Sometimes the heat and smells, occasionally tight spaces remind me of a few unpleasant deployments. I’m fine.”

“Are you okay to be here? Should you go back to the plane—”

“I'm not fucking weak,” I bite out through a clenched jaw. “I said I'm fine, so I'm fucking fine.”

“Okay,” she says slowly, shifting her attention to Tank, who shrugs. “I know you're not weak, Trouble. And that's great that you're fine, but I was asking to learn more about this side of you. You keep those years of your life hidden from me. if you haven't noticed.”

“Can we talk about something else?” I point out the dark-tinted window. “ETA ten minutes.”

The pointed once-over she gives me says we’ll finish this discussion later whether I want to or not. A relieved breath brushes past my lips as she breaks our stare-off and reaches for the iPad once again.

The remaining ten minutes to the embassy are uneventful. Too quiet, in fact. I curl both hands into tight fists as guilt eats at my gut for disregarding her concern.

The Beast decelerates, slowly coming to a stop directly in front of the embassy’s steps. Several marines stand at attention at the doors and scattered down the stone stairs. An alert scan of the surrounding area locates two of our snipers by the sun’s rays gleaming off their scopes.

“Let's do this,” Tank says as he tucks his phone away and reaches for the door handle.

Randi nibbles on a nail, her face scrunched with worry.

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