Page 24 of Power Term

“No idea, but something feels off about it all,” Tank says over his shoulder as he marches up the steps.

A red monstrosity looms before us at the top. Well over ten feet tall and just as wide, the double doors feel like a warning of some kind. A hint that if you pass through the doors, you might not come out alive.

Shaking off the eerie feeling of being watched, probably from the security cameras and the person monitoring the feed, I forgo knocking. The large brass doorknob barely fits into my hand as I give it a twist, hoping to find it unlocked hoping to catch the bastard off guard. Legal ramifications of doing this without a warrant be dammed.

Of course I’m not that lucky.

Grumbling under my breath, I pound a fist against the door, the thick wood barely vibrating under my onslaught. The side of my hand burns as I continue to demand entry until it swings open, leaving my hand hovering midair. A man in a black suit stands in the middle of the doorframe, his glare darting from me to over my shoulder where Tank stands.

“Secret Service,” I state, shoving my credentials an inch from his nose. His scrutinizing gaze rakes over my information. “We need to question Mr. Secretary on his involvement with the incident this morning involving the president’s disappearance.”

The guard’s eyes widen a fraction, slack jaw erasing the earlier indignation.

Using his surprise to my advantage, I shove him aside with ease and step into the foyer.

“Where is he?” I question as I take a quick scan of the opulent foyer, searching for the fucker we’re here to question. A deep ache pulses in the muscles along my jaw from the constant restraint from roaring and releasing all this held-back wrath.

“In his office,” the guard states, shaking his head. Suspicion creeps in at how quickly he accepted the idea that his boss would be a part of the attack. Either he’s setting us up or has seen enough while on duty to warrant our accusation. “He’s been holed up in there all morning.” He waves a hand up the curved stairwell. “Come with me. I’ll show you the way.”

Tank slaps a hand to the guard’s chest to stop him from moving. “No need. We’ll take it from here. All we need are directions.”

The guard’s eyes flick up the stairs and back to Tank. Rubbing a hand along his clean-shaven jaw, he hitches his chin toward the second level. “Take a left at the top of the stairs. It’s the last door on your left.” He slides his hand to the back of his neck and tightens his grip. “I’m not sure about his involvement with what you’re here about, but I’ve been on this rotation for six months, and….”

“And?” Tank prods when the guard clams up.

Tension builds in the open entryway, Tank and I both on edge as we wait for him to continue. Hopefully it’ll be something we can use during the interrogation. My tight chest and racing pulse tell me we’re on to something here, but we need to hurry.

Eyes downcast, finding the black-and-white marble stone floor suddenly riveting, he raises his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “Things don’t add up. But the pay is good, and he offers dental.” He lets out an amused chuckle. “Should’ve known it was too good to be true.” Like he’s found his courage to give us the details, he raises his gaze from the floor and levels it my way. “The people who come and go from here, at all hours of the night, aren’t the type of people you’d expect the secretary of state to be associated with. I’ve seen my share of shady businessmen, and these have it written all over them.” He shakes his head. “I’m not sure what he’s involved in, but there’s something not right going on. And I suspect the others before me felt the same but were paid to keep quiet or knew if they spoke up about it, they wouldn’t be living very long.”

Done fucking waiting and hearing even more evidence for why I never liked this fuckstick, I storm to the stairs and take them two at a time. The dark wooden steps take the brunt of my urgency with each heavy pound of my boots. At the landing, I turn toward the hallway, but a tight grip lands on my shoulder and twists me the opposite way I was originally headed.

“Your other left, you idiot,” Tank huffs with a mix of exasperation and humor. He gives me a shove in the new direction, and I stumble several feet.

Side by side, we stalk down the hall, guns drawn, ready for anything. After the guard’s confession, we’re not taking any chances at being ambushed. Rosen is mixed up in something, but what and who, only time will tell.

We clear two pristine bedrooms and one bathroom on our way toward Rosen’s office. The dark oak door at the end of the hall is the only obstacle before I gain some answers that will hopefully bring us one step closer to finding Randi.

The metal knob bites into my hand under my tight grip.

Fucking locked.

Unease surges, clenching my gut. Something feels even more off up here than it did downstairs.

My breath catches at a hopeful thought. What if it’s her? What if Randi is being heldhere?

Hand still gripped around the doorknob, I pitch back, gaining leverage. My shoulder and the door connect with a thump, and a pained grunt escapes me. A faint crack of wood sounds at the second attempt at using my body as a battering ram. Again I shove my body weight against the door, new fissures and cracks spreading with each hit.

After the fifth or sixth hit, I slump forward, catching my breath and giving my throbbing shoulder a quick break before going back at it.

“Stand back, you skinny-ass fool.”

I grimace as I unmold my hand from the knob. Good shoulder against the wall, I wave a hand to the door. “Go right ahead, brute squad, if you think you can do better.”

Of course he does. One hit. One fucking hit of one of his massive shoulders and the door splinters to pieces. If I didn’t know it was physically impossible, I’d swear on the Bible that the area that took the direct impact disintegrated to sawdust right before my eyes.

“Show-off. I weakened it for you,” I mumble, knowing full well I didn’t do shit but maybe scratch the dark-stained finish.

Righting himself from where he’d fallen slightly forward toward the door, Tank turns with a cocky-as-hell smile.

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