Page 53 of Power Term

Trey quickly scans the room, zeroing in on the spot we last saw Shawn.

“My boot.” The words are so mumbled and low, I barely make them out.

“Yes, you’re wearing boots.”

For half a second, that focus shifts from the top of the stairs to me. He rolls his eyes and goes back to watching for the evil incarnate.

“There’s a Swiss Army knife in my boot. But I can’t reach it.” I eye the restraints on his wrists and ankles holding him to the chair, very similar to how they had me tied up back at the warehouse. “You’d have to roll off the bed without a sound, somehow make it across the floor to me, swing around so your hands can reach inside my boot….” Not a single dark, wet lock of hair shifts as he shakes his head.

“I’ll do it.” It might not work, but it’s better than lying here waiting to watch my fiancé get beaten to death and then me raped to death. Yeah… I’ll choose zero fucking chances of escape but will die trying than the other option any day.

Pride radiates off him. “That’s my girl. Now roll off the bed—”

“I don’t need a play-by-play,” I hiss. “Let me concentrate.”

“Sorry.”

With a huff, I shuffle to the edge of the bed. Okay, so this is like playing mermaid in the community pool. I can’t separate my feet. Except in that scenario, I was able to use my arms.

“Hey, Mess.”

“What?” I don’t hide the exasperation in my tone. “What’s so important that you need to tell me now right before I smack my already beaten body to the hard floor without hands or feet to ease the impact?”

“Right, poor timing, but I just wanted to tell you how fucking hot you look.”

It takes a bit of finagling, but I meet his wide, clear eyes and raise both brows in question. “Seriously?”

“Hell. Yes. You have this determined look on your face that’s sexy as hell. It’s the same one you get when you put those pompous assholes in the House and Senate in their place after a rude or derogatory comment.”

“You notice that?”

“Have you not noticed them not coming within twenty feet of you again?”

“Yeah, I just thought they didn’t like having their bigot asses handed to them by a woman.”

“That and they didn’t like having their bigot assess handed to them later by me and Tank to teach them a lesson on how to properly speak to our girl.” A wash of sadness shifts over his features. “Right, carry on.”

“He’s not dead. I know it, Trey. I just know it. Have some faith in, T.” I suck in as big a breath as I can stand before it causes pain. “Okay, here I go. One. Two.” Before saying “Three,” I roll off the bed, hoping I can somehow rotate in the three feet to land on my back and not my—

Oomph.

“Fuck,” I hiss as all the air whooshes from my lungs at the impact between the floor and my chest. “That did not go like I planned.”

“Are you okay?” Worry and concern fill his whispered words, keeping me from making a quip about being fucking golden despite the shard of rib that seems to be stabbing through my lung into my kidney.

“Yep,” I grunt. “All good.”

“You’re lying,” he hisses. “Fuck, I can’t make you do this. You’re already hurt—”

Lifting my head, I rest the opposite cheek on the ground to see in Trey’s direction. The cool cement feels nice against my swollen cheek. “In case you haven’t noticed, you didn’t make me do anything. I’m doing this on my own because, quite frankly, I don’t want to die down here and… setting this house on fire would really piss Shawn off.” My lips sting as they pull into a smile. “Okay, on the count of three, I’m caterpillar-crawling over to you. One. Two. Three.”

I don’t move. Can’t move.

“Randi?”

“Yep.”

“You didn’t move.”

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