Page 76 of Power Surge

“What do you mean?” T asks as he paces the small office.

“I mean I'm done with these jackasses calling the shots, putting me and my men in danger. I'm fucking done. Let's go over what happened today and put together an actionable plan that I can present to my military advisors when we return to DC. As soon as we land, I’ll fill them in—on everything. I need their advice. I need their help. At first I thought that made me weak, or maybe incapable of performing at this level, but now I know I’m more a fool for ever thinking I could do this without them.”

“You sure today’s attack and the one in Saudi Arabia were spearheaded by those involved in the Birmingham scandal and not Whit?” Trey asks as his unfocused gaze zeroes in on the wall just over my shoulder.

“You know, I really do. Shawn is a calculating, smart-as-hell evil psychopath, not… sloppy. If that explanation makes sense. The past two attempts have failed because of you guys. I think Shawn would manipulate a sinister plot, not a simple assassination.”

Chin to his shoulder, Trey casts a look I can’t identify at T. A silent conversation flows between them as the seconds tick by.

“What?” I question, suspicion in my tone. “You two think I’m wrong about Shawn having nothing to do with this?”

“Honestly, I'm not sure. But you're right, this doesn't feel like Whit. But… how much do you want to know about today?” T asks as he scrubs at his bald head over and over.

“All of it,” I respond with zero hesitation. “Tell me what you know.”

Crouching to the floor beside my chair, Trey rocks back, falling to his ass with a groan. He leans back until he’s prone along the floor beside me. Interlacing his fingers behind his head, he smirks up at my raised brow.

“We had a solid plan in place prior to boarding the plan for Cairo. A plan that was thought through, every detail hashed out with not just us but both military personnel and other Secret Service teams. Somehow, those bastards who attacked today knew exactly where ouroriginalsnipers were located, as if they had been warned of their exact position.”

“Suspicious,” I mumble. The phone rings on the desk. Three sets of eyes follow the sound, focusing on the blinking red light. “Probably the Egyptian president. He called while I was with the doctors demanding an explanation to what happened, but I said I'd call back when I had more details. Impatient man.” Ignoring the call, I return my attention to Trey, whose honey brown eyes are already on mine.

“I don't like seeing you hurt,” he says, a mix of concern and restrained anger softening his tone.

“I'm safe because of you, remember? And it's only a sprained ankle.” Shooting him a tentative smile, I wiggle down the chair, trying to get comfortable with my foot propped up. “Now out with it. What aren’t you two telling me?”

“Your boyfriend here has been an overprotective pain in my ass lately, but today I think he saved all our lives with his insistent need to wrap you in a bulletproof protective bubble. He identified two areas where we could potentially need more coverage. At first I didn’t agree with him, thought the plan was solid, but something told me to listen to his whining today. To make Benson here happy, we decided to add a few more snipers at the airport and around the embassy.” T breaks our stare-off to study the floor.

“Okay, I don't get where this is going. What am I missing?”

“We made that specific change on the plane, Mess. Yet somehow those fuckers today knew about the extra coverage and took out the original snipersandthe additional ones—well, all except one. Now, how would they have known about the new addition to the plan?”

My stomach clenches with a mix of disappointment and dread as the pieces fall into place.

“You've got to be kidding me,” I snap. “You cannot be suggesting there is yetanothermole on our team. That's absurd.”

“We know the men running this shit show have money, and money talks, Randi. They very well could be paying someone off to get close to you, to learn our plans and—”

“Oh good, it gets better.” My words drip with sarcasm.

“Today, they could’ve taken you out with a single shot. Our snipers were down, so why didn’t they? Why did they just take out those around you?” Trey says from the floor, now propped up on his elbows.

“My brain hurts. Just tell me.”

“It was like they wanted to force us to take refuge in the embassy.”

“So?” I question.

“Where we would've been trapped with no way out,” T finishes.

A crack reverberates against my teeth as yet another nail snaps beneath my nervous gnawing. “Okay, okay, I see what you're saying. You think their goal was to trap us and go from there? That doesn’t make any sense. We would’ve been hunkered down in the safe room with the Egyptian army as backup.”

“Just like in Saudi Arabia, these plans are not well thought out. It’s almost as if someone is feeding them the intel, but there are some details lost in translation.”

“All but one of our snipers were incapacitated the moment we arrived. They had people waiting, but I shifted one of the added snipers to a different location for a better angle at the last second. I made that move in the limo on the way.” T’s normally booming voice sounds weary.

I nod like I’m actually tracking with what they’re saying. Which I guess I am, but a heavy fog has spread over my thoughts, making connecting the pieces more difficult than usual. “Was the sniper the only shooter?” I ask.

“No, we believe there were additional hostiles in the crowd, but they were more to create chaos than harm the civilians.”

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