Page 32 of Power Term

“Break in,” Tank commands.

“Really?” The sarcasm in that one word makes a stiff chuckle erupt from my chest. “I was just going to knock and hope someone would let me in.”

“Smith,” I say with surprise, blinking at the phone. “Was that a joke?” Maybe hell has frozen over.

“I’ll let you know what I find. You do your digging on this Whit fucker. Maybe we can find something that will tell us where they took her. It can’t be far. That’s one thing we have going for us.”

“Why do you say that? That they didn’t take her far?” Optimism surges at his claim. If she’s close, then we’ll get there in time. I can save her.

“Just a hunch. If it were me, I’d want to spend what little time I had with her—knowing an army is out there looking for her—on fulfilling my objective.” And just like that, my rising optimism plummets, deflating me to the core once again. “No, he’ll want to torture—”

“Call us when you have something.” Tank snatches the phone from my hand and hits the Off button while Smith continues describing all the ways he’d use his time with her, making her pay. “Don’t listen to him. Look, this guy here hasn’t been dead long. The larger puddles of blood aren’t even tacky yet. Which meansifPonder is our guy, he came here recently to tie up loose ends. We’ll get to her in time, Trey. I swear we will get to your girl before it’s too late.”

I clear my throat. “Our girl.”

After removing the black latex gloves, he slaps a hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

“Yourgirl. Now let’s go somewhere we can do some digging on Whit while Smith checks out Ponder’s place. Your place or mine?”

“Yours,” I say as I follow him out of the office. “Don’t forget to call the FBI. Maybe they can pull something from Rosen’s laptop or get a warrant for his phone records.”

“Already sent the text,” Tank says, looking up from his phone with his thumbs still flying across the screen. “Come on, let’s go find that fucker Whit.”

A slow sinister smile pulls up my lips, bunching my cheeks. “And then kill him.”

Anticipation races through my veins as the vivid images of him bloody and beaten from my pounding fists flash through my thoughts. For too long that asshat has tormented Randi. For too long he’s gone unchecked.

No longer.

Today I execute justice for what he’s done to her and many others.

Death.

A nice slow, tormenting, grueling death.

I should be terrified at the excitement and joy that brings me. But I’d sell my soul to the devil himself if it means getting Randi back unharmed.

With Whit in the picture, that’s exactly what I might have to do to save her.

Who needs a soul anyway?

Chapter Nine

Randi

My ass slams to the unforgiving seat of the chair I’m to be secured to again. Ligaments and tendons stretch awkwardly, screaming in protest as both arms are wrenched behind me. Panic surges and kicks up my fight-or-flight instinct, supplying enough to fight against his hold. Not that it does much; his grip doesn’t even falter. A hard yank draws my hands farther back than my fatigued muscles can handle. I scream through clenched teeth as the discomfort turns unbearable.

“Did you send the picture?” Shawn asks, like I’m not sitting here being manhandled to the equivalent of drawn and quartered. Well, hopefully not the quartered part. That would really suck. There’s no coming back from that.

“Have to have your guts to live.” My head falls forward, rolling from side to side with each tug to my arms as the one wearing the head scarf secures the zip ties. Each breath hisses through my teeth as I breathe through the pain, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of hearing my cries again.

“Yes, sent the picture,” says the still unknown traitor at my back before moving on to my ankles. With the last tie secured, he stands. With a minuscule nod at his work, he turns to Shawn. “Destroyed and ditched the phone a second after hitting Send. I’m not a damn amateur.”

“Do you have another?” Shawn questions, a snap in his tone.

What if I can get them to fight? That way they’d ignore me for a while, giving Trey more time to find and save me. Which I know they will. Trey, T, and the rest of my loyal agents will find me. I know it deep in my gut.

The mystery man mumbles something I can’t make out with the cloth still secured around his face.

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