Page 78 of Power Surge

“They'll talk, Randi. More than they already are.”

“I don't care,” I think I mutter, but the numbness in my lips make it hard to tell if I said any words at all. The need for him to hold me grows urgent. Shifting along the cool sheets, I attempt to sit up, but a heavy hand presses on my shoulder, keeping me in place.

“Okay, Mess, you win.”

Relief washes through me. With a content sigh, I allow my heavy lids to fall closed once again. The bed dips just before a comforting heat snuggles beside me. His heavy arm drapes across my upper chest, securing me closer. “Now, go to sleep. And when you wake up, I'm force-feeding you.”

I snort—at least I think I do.

“Trouble, I love you,” I mumble as I continue to slip into the blissful darkness.

“That word doesn't begin to cover how I feel for you, Randi Sawyer.”

With one last deep breath, inhaling this moment filled with peace and his unfaltering love, I give in to oblivion.

Chapter Twenty-One

Randi

“Ican’t believe this. You’ve known this entire time what was going on, and you kept it to yourself?” the general, my top military advisor, says, his body trembling with restrained anger. Would he have already blown a gasket if I were a male president instead of a female? If that’s the case and my gender is helping him control his temper, this is the one and only time I’ll be good with him treating me differently than a male. No way could I maintain this calm facade if he were to leave his emotions unchecked.

Tilting my head ever so slightly, I study him from behind the desk, taking in the full chest plate of medals and stripes.

I getwhyhe's this pissed off at me. I've kept all my military advisors in the dark with the situation Kyle unknowingly trapped our country in. Vlad was right all those weeks ago. I was a fool for thinking I could accomplish anything on my own. This role cannot be done by one person alone, but with one person surrounded by those they can trust and depend on. That’s the wisdom I lacked. Until now.

“It was need-to-know,” I state, arching a brow. Heard that line once in a movie, and it's saved my ass more times than I can count since moving to DC. Once someone hears it, there are zero comebacks.

“That's utter bullshit and you know it,” he retorts. The earlier pink tainting his cheeks is now a fiery red.

“Bullshit or not, it was need-to-know at the time, and you weren't one of them.” Standing from the desk, I tilt forward, pressing my knuckles to the polished surface in an effort to keep weight off my injured ankle. Sure, the insistent throbbing is annoying as hell, but what other choice do I have? It’s not like I can meet with this group of badass men with my foot up on my desk, or even worse, lying on the couch in order to keep it elevated. “The CIA is working on obtaining information on the men who run the group, but I’ve decided we will move now on military force, taking out the insurgents who’ve attempted to kill me and continue to spread chaos and uncertainty in the Middle East. However, I’m aware this is your area of expertise, which is why you’re here today. I need to know our best course of action, one that will require the fewest troops and little to no casualties.” I motion for them to begin.

For over an hour, they debate the best plan, me adding my two cents or asking questions every so often. Two believe a full-on deployment of several thousands of troops is needed to end what we've started. The other one, the quiet one who has the full attention of the room when he speaks, suggests a small special operations team to take those responsible out quietly.

While they resume the arguing, I swivel in the chair, placing my back to the center of the room. A quick peek finds my ankle twice the size it was earlier this morning. The radiating pain is now so intense that sweat collects along my palms and my hairline.

With a grimace, I gradually turn back to the men, my stoic mask back in place before I make the full turn.

“I like the special forces plan,” I say. I need to wrap this up and get my ankle elevated before Trey comes by. He'll be pissed seeing it on the floor instead of on the desk. “SEALs?”

The general shakes his head. “Delta Force. They're already on the ground in that area of the world, which means little to no adjustment period. We get a team the intelligence they need to locate the insurgents and it’ll be handled. Simple as that.”

I swallow. Beneath the desk, my hands begin to tremble. Shit just got real. Our Delta Force is the most elusive subset of our military—hell, any military. Most people don't even believe they exist. But they are still men, men with lives outside the military. What I’ll ask them to do will put their lives in danger. Yes, they’re in danger all the time, being in the military, but this is different. They need to know what they’re fighting for, what they’ll be stopping.

And they need to hear it from me. Their president. I need to show some fucking backbone while holding on to some semblance of empathy.

“One caveat to your plan.” The general tilts his head in question. “Before they head out on the mission, I will meet with them to discuss the importance of what I’m asking them to do.” The room falls silent. If they were to listen closely, I swear all three could hear the throbbing of my ankle.

“No,” one of the other advisors says.

“Incorrect answer,” I snap. A single drop of sweat trickles between my breast as more forms along the back of my neck. “Get the intelligence you need to put a plan in place for Delta Force, but I will talk to them before they go out on the mission, is that clear?” No one responds. “I said, is that clear, gentlemen,” I nearly growl.

One after another, they all slowly dip their chins in acknowledgment.

“Great, this meeting is over. Keep me updated.”

Two grumbling men file out. Glancing up from the iPad I can't even focus on, I find the general hovering in front of the desk. There's something about his presence that offers a comforting, protective feel that drains a bit of the tension that's been at a constant high since we landed yesterday afternoon.

“It's dangerous.”

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