Page 21 of Power Term

Our female boss.

Fuck, what am I doing?

Scrubbing a hand down my face, I breathe in deep. “Tell me right now, Madam Director, right fucking now why we shouldn’t issue a search and destroy for Smith. Explain why he shouldn’t be hunted down and hung for being a traitor.” Beads of sweat dot my forehead and slip down the back of my neck with my rising anger and restraint.

Her head dips in what seems to be either defeat or acceptance.

I dare a look to my friend, who appears as confused as I feel.

“Madam Director,” Tank urges, his tone clipped. “The president is running out of time.” I fight to hold back the gut-wrenching panic his words triggers. “If you know something about Agent Smith, why we shouldn’t consider him as a suspect, tell us. Then we can move on to find the bastard who not only betrayed Randi and his country but this very fucking agency itself. Tell us. Now.”

Whoa. The controlled anger in his deep voice and expression makes me flinch, and I’m not even the one he’s talking to.

“I know it’s not him,” she murmurs, now massaging her temples with two fingers.

“How? How can you be certain. Do you even know his background?” I snap.

“Yes.”

“Tell. Us. Now.” I’ve never wanted to cause harm to a woman until now. Why the hell is she holding back? We need this information.

Sitting up tall, she collects herself, straightening her shoulders. “I do know his background, and yes, Agents Washington and Benson, I know for a fact he’s not our traitor. And I know all this with 100 percent certainty because….” Turning the chair, she puts her back to us and faces the row of dark-tinted windows that look out over the city. “Because Agent Smith is my son.”

What. The. Ever. Loving. Fuck?

Chapter Six

Trey

“What?” Tank and I say in unison, the shock of her confession deflating the earlier tension from the room.

With the director’s back still to us, I shift to face Tank, eyes wide, my mouth opening and closing as I search for words. But what in the hell do you say tothat? Didnotsee that coming, because it makes zero sense.

By the narrowing of my friend’s eyes and the sharp hitch of his chin toward the woman across the table, it seems Tank is on the same wavelength.

Grinding my teeth, I sort through what to say or ask to help clarify the million questions I have, but she beats me to it.

“He was with Homeland before I transferred him to Secret Service. I won’t go into the long version, because as Agent Washington mentioned before, the president doesn’t have much time. But I can tell you he was top of his class at MIT, recruited directly out of college. You have to know he’s a good man and an even better agent with his observation talents and ability to pull apart truths and lies quickly.” Her weighted pause has me inching closer to the edge of the table, waiting for more. “He’s always had this… edge to see through things others can’t. Homeland used his talents, put him in difficult scenarios right out of training, ones that still haunt him.

“Two years ago, he stopped by for a visit, and I noticed he was different. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was a darkness weighing him down. I came to the conclusion that the years he’d put into Homeland and the types of ops and requirements needed to tackle the stateside terrorists were taking a heavy toll. Then he started showing up injured.” I hold a breath as she rotates the chair around to face us. Dampness lingers along her lower lids. “I asked him what happened, asked what was going on, but he refused to open up. He didn’t… doesn’t have anyone. No wife, no girlfriend or friends. It’s just him and me. So I knew it had to be me to save him, even if it was saving him from himself.

“I had him followed shortly thereafter. The first agent I assigned to tail him was ditched in less than ten minutes. The second even faster than that. It took months to figure out how he was gaining the injuries when he wasn’t on assignment. And when I found out….” Her short blonde hair shifts along her jawline with a shake of her head. “He was in deep. I didn’t confront him, knowing he’d deny any involvement or simply walk away from me and never come back. Nor did I ask for permission when I went above his head and called in a favor, having him transferred to my agency. With Ray unraveling on and off assignments, they willingly transferred what they assumed was a too-far-gone agent to the Secret Service.”

Ray. So that’s his first name. If I had a hundred guesses, I would’ve never gotten it correct. That asshole looks more like a Frank or Dave or Charlie than a Ray. No wonder he hasn’t told us his name. Poor fuck is embarrassed it doesn’t match his persona. Unlike mine that totally fits. I think.

“Unraveling?” I question, my voice deep with focus. It’s a nice story and all, but what if she’s too close to this, considering the relationship, and can’t see the blaring signs that her son did unravel completely and abducted Randi?

“Taking greater risks than needed, almost as if he’d lost all self-preservation. Which is why he started….” She paused a moment, then looked at Tank. “You said you tried reaching out to him?”

“Correct, no answer.”

She nods. “I’ll keep trying him. In the meantime, what other leads can you pursue? With the suit tip, agent is one angle we can dive into. I’ll look at the beta team roster, compare it to those who were killed in the attack, and go from there.”

“What aren’t you telling us about Smith?” Gripping the chair back beside me, I squeeze until my knuckles turn white. “Why shouldn’t we suspect him? What’s with the disappearing? You say you know.”

“I do, but I’m not sure it’s my story to tell. I found out by going behind his back, which cost me months of us not speaking.”

“Madam Director, tell us, or I can’t give up on the idea that Smith is behind this somehow. The disappearances are a huge indicator that he’s up to something shady.”

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