Page 36 of Power Term

What have I noticed since that first day we met when I hauled her out of that burning limo?

Natural beauty.

Desperation to help others.

Witty sense of humor and crazy as hell.

Lips that beg for you to kiss them or have them wrapped around your cock.

A pussy that tastes like honey and feels like heaven.

I adjust along the leather seat to keep my growing hard-on from being noticed.

But the side-eye glare Tank’s shoots me signals I wasn’t as covert at adjusting myself as I hoped.

“Stop thinking like that, you horny ass. I’m talking about Randi being Randi. Everyone who knows her falls for her. Not in love with her, thank fuck, or you’d have a murder rap sheet a mile long, but they care for her. They see her kindness in a city and profession where there is none. People who know her gravitate to that naïveté from not being raised in politics. That’s what we’re not considering, what we haven’t added to the equation.”

Well, fuck. Here I was thinking about all the physical aspects I love about Randi and forgot about the reason I fell for her in the first place.

“You’re right,” I say, scrubbing a hand down my face. “So where does that leave us? If it is Whit, he knows her and still loathes her.”

“But not the men who took her.”

“If we’re right about Ponder being the one who was behind the abduction for Whit, then yeah, he does know her. He’s been with her for the past year on the beta team detail. He knows her and still took her.”

Tank runs a hand over his sweaty bald head before slamming it to the steering wheel. “You’re right.”

“But,” I say as I think through the various ways Randi being Randi could be a benefit, “he’s never seen her like we do, considering I had him moved to the shit list on the beta team. He’s never had one-on-one time with her, so if he stuck around after the abduction, she could influence him then. So you’re right, maybe Randi can sway Ponder. But that’s only if he didn’t drop her at a location and leave her alone for Whit to find. Fuck.” I groan. “There are too many variables and not enough solid leads. We need something to turn in our favor.” I glance out the window to the early afternoon sun, its bright rays a complete opposite to the darkness consuming me. “What if we do find her and she’s…? What if he’s broken her by the time we get there?”

“Would that change anything for you?” Tank asks. I lurch forward, the seat belt catching against my chest with our sudden stop. I blink, realizing he’s just whipped us into a parallel parking spot along a street lined with shops and business. He turns in his seat to stare me down. “Answer me.”

“You think that little of me?” I snap, the hurt leaking through my harsh tone. “Of course not. I love her no matter what. I just want her back. If he’s broken her mind or her spirit, I will help her heal. I’ll be there for her every step of the way. I just want—” I shake my head. “I need her with me. I need her by my side for the rest of my life and me beside her for the rest of hers. This is it for me.She’sit for me.”

“Good.” Without another word, he swings open the driver side door and climbs out into the afternoon heat. I follow suit, stepping onto the sidewalk and scanning the few pedestrians scurrying about. “We’re in the center of the radius where the picture was sent. This is where we start our search. If we find the phone, it could have prints, maybe even enough juice left that we can use it to backtrack where it’s been. We find that phone, we’re one step closer to finding her.”

With a determined curt nod, I split from Tank, heading straight for the trash can at the corner of an intersection while he slips back around the SUV and cuts across the street.

The stainless steel dome lid clatters to the ground with an erupting bang loud enough to be heard several streets over. A few curious and apprehensive glances come my way as people walk by, giving me a wide berth as I rummage through the full trash bag. Cold, lumpy coffee, something sticky like old yogurt—yep, I’m going with yogurt to keep my sanity—and crumbs of food slide through my searching fingers, caking beneath my short nails. Halfway through, I force myself to lean away from the stench and suck in a lungful of fresh air before continuing digging. At the bottom, I curse at not finding the cell phone, those wasted efforts and minutes. Hot metal burns a line across my palm as I shove off the rounded edge, sending the can crashing to the side of its metal protective cage.

Fat drops of thick, semi-solid liquid dribble from my dangling fingers onto the warm concrete sidewalk as I stride to the next visible trash can. Halfway through the third trash can, I hear my name bellowed from somewhere close by. My head snaps up, hands still embedded in the refuse as I search for Tank. Across the street, he stands beside a pile of trash, holding something high in the air. I squint, resting a disgusting hand above my brows to shield the glare.

A cell phone.

Hell to the fucking yeah. Finally.

The rubber soles of my boots pound on the pavement as I jog across the street, nearly getting run over twice. The yelling of the furious drivers fades in the distance as they continue on. I stop beside Tank, whose focus is on the small device.

“It’s smashed,” he says, defeated. Those large boulder-like shoulders slump.

“What do you want to bet Smith’s friends at Homeland can still pull information from it?” I keep a cautious eye on him. If he becomes too frustrated and launches the phone, there’d be no coming back from that. Carefully pulling the broken device from his hand, I place it gently on the brick window ledge of the nearby building. Only after wiping the layers of gunk off my hands do I dig through the side pocket of my cargo pants and retrieve my phone. Thank fuck I sent Smith’s contact information to my phone from Tank’s earlier in case I needed it in the future. Hitting the Call button, I set it to speaker and hold it face-up between me and my pacing friend.

“I’m five minutes out” are Smith’s first words.

“We have something we need your buddies at Homeland to work on. We think we found the cell phone used to send the picture of Randi, but it’s smashed.”

“They’ll be able to pull something. Everything is traceable.”

The screen flashes, signaling the call has ended.

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