Page 79 of Power Surge

“I understand. But I have to do this.”

“Why?” Chewing on my lip, I hold back from gasping as I shift in the seat, the bit of movement jarring enough to shoot a bolt of pain straight up my leg. “You should elevate that, you know.”

My eyes widen in surprise. His answering smirk produces a light chuckle in my chest.

“Who told you?” I laugh as I carefully lift the injured ankle to the desk and gently rest it on the edge so it hangs over the other side.

“Everyone. Why do you want to meet with the men?”

Sighing, I rub the bridge of my nose. “Because this is different than me asking them to do the job they signed up for.”

“Which is?”

“Serving our country, protecting us against the bad guys. In this case,weare the bad guys. We're the ones who allowed this to happen, maybe not directly but indirectly for sure. We aren't the ones pulling the trigger, but we fucking gave the insurgents the guns. I just want our men to know what they're stopping, what they're risking their lives for. I owe that to them.”

Comfortable silence settles between us as he stares me down.

“I'll make sure it happens, but know it will have to be in and out, and only a few can know. A small team of agents and you. You can't fly Air Force One onto the base. You'd get every man on the entire base killed.”

I nod as he speaks. “I only need two agents if we're going in undercover. Maybe I should get a wig, go incognito.”

A deep rumbling laugh fills the office. I smile at the rare one now adorning the general’s face.

“I didn't know how it would be advising you, Madam President, but I must say it's an honor. What you're doing for our country with the various programs for those trapped in the lower class is exactly what this country needs. No one like you, with your understanding, has sat in the chair you occupy now. Those people have been left alone with no voice for far too long.”

I arch a brow. “You sound like you know their plight all too well.”

A soft smile causes deep lines to crease his leathery cheeks. “Our ranks are filled with kids with similar backgrounds to your own. Poverty, no way out, terrible home life. I served with many and have trained many more. I’ve heard the stories, I’ve listened, and now I’m honored to be advising someone who is focused on a group that most want to forget. Recent intelligence withholding aside.”

A lump forms in my throat. “Thank you for your service.”

“Likewise, Madam President.”

He strides out of the office at the same moment Trey and a very pregnant Taeler shuffle around him to enter.

“How's my grandbaby doing today?” I smile at her rounded belly. We kept the secret as long as we could, but once she started showing, we had to announce it to the media. At first, everyone was disappointed it wasn't me; guess there aren’t as many ratings in the first daughter being pregnant as there would've been if I were. The announcement held the public’s attention for less than a week before they moved on to something else.

We kept the details of the first assassination attempt in Saudi Arabia out of the media, but with all the cell phones at the Cairo incident, there was no way my media team could keep it under wraps. Now the media sharks are back camped outside; they haven’t left since Air Force One landed on American soil. Each reporter and news station wants an interview, details on what happened and how I plan to respond. Most of the news anchors want us to react with the full force of the American military. Not sure if they feel that angry at the thought of me being hurt or if it's sheer bloodlust for higher ratings. Nothing says more viewers like the threat of war.

“The baby is kicking my fucking spleen like it’s a plush soccer ball,” Taeler says, easing herself onto the couch with Trey’s help.

A love-saturated sigh fills my chest. Swoon. Can he get any cuter?

“Language,” I grumble at my foulmouthed daughter. I should kick her father’s ass for teaching her such fucking language.

“I'mokay, by the way. Thanks for asking how your only daughter is doing.”

Rolling my eyes, I shoot a pleading look at Trey, who raises his hands in surrender and backs away until his back seals to the far wall. The building smile on his lips falters when he notices my swollen ankle. His narrowed glare burns through me.

“How's your father doing?” I rush out to avoid the verbal lashing I know is sure to come from Trey. “He should be here in the next couple of weeks, right?”

“Dad's fine. Still pouting about how you made him leave.”

We both roll our eyes, making us giggle.

“It was your decision too, remember?” I say with a pointed look. “I told him he couldn’t move in, but you’re the one who sent him packing the next day.”

“Yeah, just because—” She cuts herself short and busies herself with tucking a rogue lock of hair behind her ear over and over again. “Anyways. It was best for everyone.”

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