Page 41 of Power Term

The driver side door slams shut immediately after. “Where are we headed?” The engine roars to life. Warm dry air pumps from the vents before changing to lifesaving air-conditioned cold gusts.

“Here.” I plug the coordinates into my phone and link the screen to the navigation system on the dash. “It’s a lead from the Russian. He told me not to ask how or where he got it.”

“Probably has spies everywhere.” Without checking the mirrors, Tank slams on the gas, shooting us onto the street. The tires squeal as he makes a tight U-turn, unconcerned about the cars coming straight for us. Their brakes lock up as they come to a screeching halt to not T-bone us.

“That’s what I said, but I don’t give a fuck right now. All that matters is her.”

“It could be nothing, or hell, a trap.”

I nod in agreement, but the feeling in my gut tells me the information is solid. “Vlad likes Randi, as strange as that relationship is. I think he’s actually concerned with her well-being and probably called in a few favors of his own to gain this information. I doubt he’d send us into a trap.”

Tank shoots a cautious glance my way. “We need to let everyone know what’s going on. We have to call in backup.” The navigation voice tells us we’re ten minutes away. “We’re so far from the crash site they probably won’t have enough men over to us in time. We should wait—”

“We’re not waiting,” I growl. “I agree on the backup. I’m texting the director now to send whatever air and land power they can drum up to this area. But we’re not waiting.” After messaging the director, I shoot a quick text to Smith with the same coordinates. A response comes almost immediately with his ETA. “Smith is twenty out. He’ll go in with us.”

“Make sure they send an ambulance with her blood type—”

“I fucking know what she might need,” I snap as my thumbs fly across the screen, texting back and forth with the director. “I’m not a fool. I know what I might be walking into and what I might find. But I’m not going there right now, Davis. Right now I’m focusing on the fact that we have a lead, and that puts us one step closer to her and me murdering those fucksticks.”

“I get where your head needs to be now, but if we’re going in without backup, you cannot turn into a possessive, protective boyfriend when you see her in rough shape. I need Agent Benson with me covering my ass.”

“It’s a big one to cover,” I slide in, trying like hell to laugh through the panic inside me.

“Seriously. We clear the area, get the president somewhere safe, and then you can freak the fuck out.”

“I know what I’m doing,” I say as I will a cool calm to wash through me. It’s the same focused calm I learned to settle into during the few battles I engaged in during my stint in the army. It covered all emotions with a blanket, readying me to do whatever it took to save my own life and those of my brothers fighting alongside me. And I’ll do whatever it takes now to save her. “Just remember what we agreed.”

“I remember.”

“I don’t care if the place is crawling with cops and agents. I get my alone time with them.”

Outside the windshield, well-kept buildings and businesses fade from this part of town, replaced with warehouses. The farther we drive the more deserted the area becomes. Litter collects along the curb, spilling over onto the sidewalk in some areas. Twenty minutes from where we found the phone, we’ve gone from trendy business district to the forgotten side of the city.

Vacant warehouses with missing windows and doors line the street. Tall dried weeds sprout between the numerous cracks along the street and pieces of sidewalk that remain. A few buildings that are clearly abandoned are protected by hole-riddled chain-link fences that have failed at their job of keeping looters and vandals at bay.

Gravel crunches beneath the SUV’s tires as it slows to a rolling stop. Tense silence swells, only broken by the grind of metal as I engage the slide on one of my nine millimeters. In the driver seat, Tank checks a clip before slamming it into place and doing the same with another three handguns. Tension rises to a near snapping point as we finish the last of our checks.

“Ready?” His tone is gruff with worry. “Trey, if this—”

“Ready.” There’s no need to voice both our fears. His is that this could be a trap, mine that this is a false lead. Neither fear will help the situation; we have to suck it up, shove it back, and do what we came here to do.

Save the president.

The specific warehouse smack in the middle of the coordinates Vlad sent is still a block away from where Tank parked the SUV, carefully hidden between two buildings. Even with the distance between us and the warehouse, we soundlessly ease the doors open, careful to not break the desolate quiet that’s engulfed this place. Remnants of asphalt, litter, and shards of glass crunch beneath our quick steps as we creep closer, using forgotten dumpsters, stairwells, and sides of other buildings as cover.

At the corner of a tall brick wall, Tank’s dark fist bolts into the air. I skid to a stop, nearly slamming my nose against his back. Chest ballooned out with a fortifying inhale, he peers around the building for a visual on our goal. Gun held tight between my hands, I seal myself to the crumbling brick while he debates our next move.

Tank taps my shoulder moments later, pointing forward and then right, indicating which way we’ll zigzag heading for the new cover. Without hesitation, I follow behind him as he slips around the corner and dashes across the crumbling blacktop. The glare blinds me momentarily as I shift from the cool comfort of the shadows to race across the empty parking lot, dodging panes of glass and empty bottles to keep our approach silent.

Breathing hard from the anticipation thrumming through my veins, I crouch beside Tank, who’s pressed against the building. Just steps away, around the corner, we’re concealed behind a set of steps leading up to a closed army green dented and rusted door. Elbows resting on my bent knees, bouncing on the balls of both feet, I wait for him to detail our game plan. Because that’s what he does. I’m the jokester who everyone loves, and Tank’s the planner. It works for us.

“Let’s assume there are at least five armed men in that building plus the president. There’s no way Ponder took out all those agents, detonated the blast, and took out the surveillance system on his own. That team plus Whit.” With a quick glance around the corner of the building to the front door, he ducks back. “We need another point of entry,” he mutters low enough for me to hear but keeps his voice from traveling. “If this is a trap, they’ll be expecting us to come through the front door.”

“There’s a low window around back.” Both our guns whip to the right at the first muffled word, our sights zeroed in between Smith’s brows. “Don’t shoot.” You’d think a man would be terrified with two guns pointed at his head while he stands unmoving, no gun drawn, but not Smith. No, that dumbass just stares us down with a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Tempting,” I mutter while lowering the gun. How the hell we didn’t hear him approach is either a testament to our focus on saving Randi or his training. “Did you see anything else?”

Crouching low next to me, he shakes his head and leans back against the building. “Just that one point of entry besides the massive loading dock doors, but those look rusted and would make a hell of a lot of noise. I peeked through the window before finding you two, didn’t see any movement.”

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