Page 20 of Power Term

“Agent Washington, Agent Benson, what is the meaning of this?” she shouts from where she leans over the table, a stack of pictures in front of her.

“We need answers,” I snap, not releasing her furious yet exhausted look. A sliver of guilt eats its way through my conscience. I’m being a dick when she just lost many good agents.

I shrug a shoulder at my internal turmoil, dispelling the thought on softening my tone.

“We’re working on that now. Go back to the crash site, wait for further orders—”

“No,” I state through clenched teeth. “We need answers now on that shady-ass agent you put on our team last year. He’s associated with what happened this morning somehow. Now we just have to find him.”

Her shoulders rise at my words as several tension-filled lines form along her forehead and between her brows.

“We can’t find him… again,” Tank adds from where he stands calm and collected beside me, his tone and stance the picture-perfect professional agent.

Fuck that shit. We need answers, even if I have to be an asswipe to get them. I’ll apologize after I save Randi and lock her away for the rest of her life to ensure something like this never happens again.

A shake of her head sends several short blonde strands cascading forward, creating a makeshift shield to hide her emotions from us and the rest of the room.

“Give us a moment,” she says with a sigh. The order hangs in the still room, everyone still standing exactly as they were when we barged inside. “That means now.”

The shuffling of papers and scrape of chair legs along the worn paper-thin carpet fill the room as the ten people surrounding the table jolt into action. Everyone files out of the room, the one I nearly flattened to a pancake with the door the last to leave, casting a glare in my direction before slamming it closed behind him.

With everyone gone, I move deeper into the room and pause across the long conference table from the director. Pressing the tips of two fingers against a photograph, I slide it along the smooth surface toward me for a better look. Hopefully they know more than Tank and me. That way we can combine information and piece this puzzle together faster by working together and sharing intel.

“First of all, it’s not what you think with Agent Smith,” she says, staring at a picture on the table. It’s one of the entire scene, three wrecked cars, the chaos and destruction palpable even on paper. “Second, I want you both to know I take full blame for this. I never should’ve approved the smaller convoy when she went out to visit her”—she flicks a wrist—“special friend.”

Tank’s cough has me peering over my shoulder, his sly smile there and gone in a flash. Good to know the boys have keptwhoRandi was visiting private. Who knows what the director would say if she found out Randi’s “special friend” was actually me.

“No one expected this to happen, ma’am.” Tank steps closer and folds his arms along the back of a chair left pulled away from the table. “It’s no one’s fault except the people who orchestrated the attack and abduction. Which brings us back to Smith and our suspicions that he’s a part of this somehow.”

“What makes you feel you have enough evidence to accuse a fellow agent of treason?” The bite in her tone signals we’re walking on thin ice. True, it is a heavy allegation, but we do have proof.

“There was a witness who saw—”

“What witness?” Her sharp scrutiny levels me from where she sits. “No one has mentioned a witness being found in any of the reports that have come through.”

“That was our intention.” Shoving the picture away, I press both hot palms to the table’s cool surface and lean forward, pressing most of my weight onto my hands. “Based on the information this man gave us, we suspect the men who attacked had inside information. Information only an agent would know. If no one knows there’s a witness, then the agent responsible for leaking the president’s route and the new surveillance we had installed won’t know we’re on to them.”

“Who is it? And how do you know he’s telling the truth?”

“On our inspection of various connecting alleyways—which is how we believe the attackers escaped without the backup convoy seeing them when they arrived—we came upon a homeless man.” Now in full alpha team lead mode, Tank’s words are cold, calculated as he recites what we know to the director. It doesn’t pass my notice that his gaze hasn’t dropped to the table where the pictures of our dead friends and agents lie haphazardly spread out. He’s hurting at the loss. Hell, I am too, but that can’t shift our focus from the current objective—finding the president.

“The homeless man stated he saw two men fleeing down the alley. One was carrying a woman, and the other, leading, was wearing a suit. A suit, Madam Director. Who do you think that suggests?” I narrow my eyes at her, hoping this information will help break down the wall of protection she has around the mysterious agent. “Based on his behavior on other assignments, disappearing when needed and now being unavailable, we suspect it’s Smith who’s the inside man. We find Smith, we find the president.”

The chair creaks under her slight weight as she leans back and steeples two fingers beneath her chin. “You think it’s an agent.”

“Not just any agent. Smith,” I correct. “He was forced onto our team without any say from our team lead, Davis. Then, during the couple times the president’s life was in danger, Smith was conveniently unavailable or missing. We know nothing about him. Hell, I don’t think I even know his first name.” My chest heaves from the exertion of holding back the roar that my voice wants to morph into. Yelling at my boss won’t win me any favors, so I keep my tone in check.

“It’s not him specifically,” she states all calm and collected, the very opposite of the war of emotions raging inside me. “But based on the witness statement and the execution of the incident, an agent leaking the information makes sense. I’ve been sitting here trying to piece together how these fuckers knew her route to and from the residence.” She flashes an accusing glare my way. Okay, maybe she does know I’m Randi’s special friend. Whatever, I’ll deal with those consequences later. “And they knew about the smaller agent force and new surveillance. It didn’t add up until now. So yes, Agent Benson, I concur that the circumstances coupled with that witness statement, even though unreliable, point to an agent assisting with this morning’s attack on the president. But who is the—”

“It’s fucking Smith.” The table rattles under the weight of my fist slamming against the top. “Why are you covering for him?”

“It’s not Agent Smith. Move on, focus on other possible suspects.” Her delicate brows draw close. Tugging at a small necklace, she runs the charm along the length of the thin gold chain. “I’ll gather the full beta team roster. It has to be one of them or an incident would’ve been reported that an unscheduled agent was on premises before the attack. They know the rules which are in place to prevent things like this from happening.”

“Why the fuck are you adamant that it’s not Smith? The evidence since he was forced onto the alpha team all points to him.”

“I know it’s not Agent Smith.” Dropping the necklace, she casually folds her hands beneath the table, but not before I catch their small tremble. “Tell me what else you saw at the scene, what other evidence you found.”

“No,” I growl and shove away from the table, ready to stalk around to her side and shake some sense into her. A grip on my shoulder stops me from advancing on our boss.

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