Page 11 of Power Term

I swallow hard to clear my desert-dry throat.

An even crazier thought than the raccoons saving me pops up. Maybe if I stay still, he won’t notice me lying here, in the middle of the room, tied to a table.

Clearly I’m cracking under the pressure.

“But,” he continues, his voice drawing closer, “now you’ll pay for that infraction, along with many others.”

Sweat slicks my forehead and dampens the back of my neck. Unlike the other two men, Shawn doesn't hide from me. He strolls the length of the table, stopping at the end by my feet. I strain to look down my body and immediately wish I hadn’t. A sinister smile splits his cheeks as he surveys my restrained ankles.

“Ready for payback, Trailer?”

My heart skips, pausing entirely before thundering against my chest once again. “Not really, but thank you for asking.” I grimace.

His smile falters slightly before returning to its Joker-esqe expression. “That was a rhetorical question, you fucking idiot.”

“Then you should’ve said that,” I snap. “And seriously, you want to do all this, to kill me, because Kyle chose me over you? Be pissed at him, not me. I’m innocent against that charge.”

“Ah, see, you were until you lied to me. That’s why you’re here today, what tipped my hand to this extreme.”

“You poisoned me before that,” I retort.

“What can I say? Birmingham was a bore, and games are my weakness,” he says, brushing off some lint from the sleeve of his dark blue jacket. “And you’re too tempting to play with. That and toying with your rent-a-cop of a boyfriend. But then you went and played me, convinced me not to put the understanding of me being selected as your VP when you became president in writing.Thatis why you’ll pay with your life. However,” he says, tilting his chin up in a haughty move, “I can be persuaded to let you live if you do what I want.”

Indignation boils inside my gut. “I won’t get anywhere near your pencil dick, dick.” Fuck, I need some caffeine. That insult was lame. Or water. Could be dehydration playing at my loss of unique name-calling.

A sneer curls the corner of his upper lip. “You won’t get anywhere near me. I’m not willing to catch whatever shit you caught while growing up in fucking poverty to get my fat dick sucked.”

I snort. “Embellish much? You’ve always been right about one thing, you would make a better politician than me with those kind of exaggeration skills.”

Between blinks, he shifts along the table, pausing at my side. Fury burns behind those near black eyes that are intently focused on my neck. Then a steady manicured hand lashes out and wraps around my throat.

The constricting grip unleashes a floodgate of hysteria into my veins. I arch my back off the table, thrash my head, doing anything I can while restrained to dislodge his hold. Shawn laughs as he applies more pressure, slowly strangling the life from my already exhausted and bruised body.

A rasp of a cry pushes past my lips. Stars twinkle before my eyes as darkness seeps from the corners of my vision. My struggles weaken, my body going limp.

This is it. This is the end.

Unable to grasp even a single puff of needed oxygen to stay conscious, I give in to the peaceful oblivion that waits for me on the other side.

I’m sorry, Trey. I’m so, so sorry.

Chapter Three

Trey

The shouts of agents and the murmuring of the crowd fall away as I continue to scour the alley for any sign this was the route they used to extract Randi. They didn’t just up and disappear; they had to escape undetected and quickly before the backup arrived. These assholes had two, maybe three minutes tops before half of the American army reserves and another half-dozen agents were swarming the area.

It took a hell of a lot of planning to pull this off. And experience. This wasn’t their first time handling a high-profile job like this.

But even professionals make mistakes. And I’ll find it. The one rogue hair, one tear of clothing or footprint. I’ll find it, and then I’ll find her.

Fuck, if it were only that simple.

Tiny fur-covered bodies scurry along the alley to my right, their thin nails scratching the slime-crusted asphalt as they weave between dumpsters. Unbothered by the rats, I continue a slow prowl, going farther away from the crash.

At the cross of another back alley intersecting with the one I’ve been following, I pause. Going right would’ve been their wisest choice in order to avoid those pursuing from seeing them. Staying straight would leave them vulnerable to those following.

Right it is, then.

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