Page 54 of Power Term

“Yeah, about that… I just needed another second.”

“Baby, we don’t have many to waste. I know you’re hurt, and this fucking sucks since you’re the one doing all the work, but if we want this to happen, you need to move.”

He’s right. At any point Shawn could open that door and stop our attempt to break out of this insane asylum. But everything still aches. Breathing really fucking hurts. Blinking… blinking doesn't hurt, so that’s a positive to focus on.

“Flip to your back. That way you can dig your heels into the floor and use the leverage to slide your body instead of… what did you call it?”

“Caterpillar crawling. Wait, too long. Caterpillaring.”

“Whatever the hell that is, it doesn’t sound pleasant. On the count of three, Randi, flip. One.” I bite my lip, readying to hold back a pain-filled yell. “Two.” Quickening my breaths, I prepare my mind to do this, even though I know it’ll hurt like a bitch. “Three.”

With a muffled grunt, I rock side to side until I build enough momentum to roll onto my back. My arms and hands dig into my back and the plastic bites into my skin, but I don’t dwell on any of it. Breathing fast, I bend both knees, dig my bare heels into the ground, and shove.

A soft cry escapes as the rough floor scrapes my raw skin.

“Randi, you’re almost there. Just a little farther.” Over and over, his soft voice and encouraging words console and inspire. Tears and sweat mix, disappearing into my hairline as I continue forcing my way across the floor.

Eyes sealed shut—concentrating on not screaming in pain takes all my focus, it seems—I don’t notice that I’ve reached Trey until my head bumps against his leg. Slowly cracking one eye open and then the other, I stifle a joyful sob at the sight of Trey smiling down right above where I lie.

“You’re doing great, Mess. Now the knife in my right boot.” He taps a black boot on the floor, indicating the one I should aim for. His smiling eyes never leave mine as I rock and wiggle to place my bound hands along his shin. “It’s down near the sole. You’ll have to dig to find it.”

It only takes a few tries to realize I’ll never find it like this. Fiddling with the laces, I concentrate on slowly loosening them little by little.

“Can you wiggle the boot off?” The back of my head hits his knee as I turn to search his face.

“If you can hold on to the heel, yeah, I think I can.”

My slick fingers lose the grip on the boot twice before Trey’s able to work his foot free.

“Shit, I think it was the other boot.”

“What?” I start to shout but quickly remember our situation. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I am.” That damn smirk. Oh, how I love that damn smirk and the man currently wearing it.

Grumbling a string of curses, I dip both hands into the wet boot. “Ew, it’s wet. Why is it wet?”

“I’m a guy. Our feet sweat. I’m a little stressed, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Sweaty feet might be a deal killer, Trouble. I didn’t know you had swamp feet.” My fingers fumble with the loose hard plastic of the knife before scooping it up into my palm. “Got it. Now what?”

“Oh, so now you want a play-by-play?”

“Trey, I fucking swear I will sentence you to be killed by an assassin unicorn.”

“You and your unicorns,” he grumbles, but the lightness in his tone belays any annoyance. “Can you get it to me? Put it in one of my hands? I can open it and cut through the tie on my wrist.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I know from experience how flexible you are, Randi. I believe in you.”

“Oh hell.” I shouldn’t be smiling, not at a time like this, but I can’t help it. It’s him. I should be a bumbling mess right now, terrified of the fate Shawn so clearly laid out for us, but I’m not. Instead I’m fighting, smiling, and, most importantly, hoping. And that’s all Trey Benson’s doing. Knowing him, he knows exactly what his words, jokes, and innuendos are doing.

And I fucking love him a little more for it.

Because we’re in this together. A team.

Forever.

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