Page 57 of Power Term

Looks like I’ll have to fight without any smoke for cover after all.

The voices upstairs grow louder, strengthening my sense of urgency.

Bending forward, I seal my lips to her hot forehead for a quick encouraging kiss.

“We’ve got this, Mess. Don’t worry, and please, please do not interfere when shit goes down. When you see me fight back, I want you to get as far away as possible. Hell, hide under the bed if you can’t get away. Don’t let them grab you and use you.”

“Trouble?”

“Yeah, Mess?”

“We’re going to get out of this, right?”

“Yeah, Randi. We’re getting out of this. The promise of anal is a hell of an incentive.” I shoot her a wink as I step backward toward the chair. Settling down into the seat, I shake out both hands and roll my neck, mentally and physically preparing myself for what’s to come.

“When did I agree to that?” The smile in her tone eases a part of me that thrives on her being happy and protected.

I open my mouth to respond, but the door swings open, slamming against the banister. Three members of Shawn’s cheap muscle descends the stairs. A held-in snort tickles my nose. Three against one is never ideal for a fight, but these three are untrained fools, helping my odds.

The one with a pug nose sniffs the air, a line forming between his bushy eyebrows. Fuck. I need a distraction to keep their focus on this side of the room.

“Took you long enough,” I shout, drawing all three men’s attention. “Did you bring my sparkling water? I’m feeling a bit parched.”

“He told us you’d be mouthy,” one snaps. At the bottom of the stairs, he creeps closer to where Randi lies, eyes sealed shut. “Sent us down here to shut you up so he didn’t have to hear it later. But don’t worry, he’ll be back before we break you both completely.”

That sinister leer he grazes along Randi’s trembling form snaps something inside me.

“So you’re his bitch, is that it? Here to rough me up but not able to finish the job until your master gives the command?” Tongue to my cheek, I click it in an obvious taunt. “Fucking pathetic.”

All three puff out their chests, shoulders squaring, ready for a fight. They stomp closer, the scent of something burning and the vulnerable woman both forgotten. Two flank the sides of the chair while one widens his stance directly in front of where I sit, still pretending to be tied up. His combat boots come toe to toe with….

Oh fuck.

I’m an idiot.

My motherfucking boot.

I know the moment he sees it. The boot lying haphazardly to the side of the chair leg, beside my foot. His brows narrow like its taking all his fucking brain matter to think through how my boot could be off. Behind me, I slowly flick open the knife blade and tighten a death grip on the handle until it becomes one with my skin.

Our eyes lock. Understanding finally smacks him, his features going from confusion to shock in a blink.

I’m out of my chair, the blade swinging through the air toward the bulging vein running down his thick neck before he can utter a word of caution to the other two idiots. The blade slams into his neck, slicing through his jugular, the exact target I intended. Hot red blood bubbles between my fingers, coating my hand and sliding down my wrist and forearm. With zero remorse, I jerk the small blade from his neck with a pop of suction as the metal slides free. Meaty fingers wrapped around his neck, he shoots pleading frantic glances to his two friends. Gurgling, blood spilling from his lips, he falls to his knees.

The other two are just as slow as the idiot clutching the gaping hole in his neck. With brutal efficiency, I lunge for the one on my right, aiming for his neck, while I kick out with the boot-covered foot toward the other man, connecting with his stomach. He stumbles back but stays on his feet. The other sways back, dodging the knife, the sharp blade barely skimming over his neck as he bats my hand away.

Shit.

The stiff red casing digs into my blood-slick hand as I tighten and loosen my grip to work some feeling back into my cramping fingers. I don’t dare take my eyes off these two asshats to see if Randi obeyed the earlier order. My sole focus is on these two and taking them out before they’re able to alert others of what’s going on down here.

In my periphery, a hairy-knuckled fist flies toward my face from the side. I stoop to miss the blow but can’t dodge the other man’s shoulder from ramming into my stomach. I grunt from the impact and the shove of air forced out of my lungs. Wrapping him in a bear hug, I stumble backward, slamming into the other guy. A cheap shot comes to my kidney. Gritting my teeth, I keep my curses as quiet as possible. Fisting the small blade still secured in my grip, I slam it into his lower back and drag it up his spine.

His screams rattle around the room as I slice through skin and muscle, keeping the blade deep to do as much damage as possible. Something hard slams to the back of both knees, dropping me to the floor. Slick blood and sweat loosens my hold, and the knife slips from my hand, remaining embedded in his shoulder.

My knees crack against the concrete. I use the new angle to my advantage and wrap both arms around the legs of the man I stabbed and yank hard, forcing him off balance so he falls to the floor beside me. A shriek beats around the room as he falls to his back, shoving the knife deeper. The blade is too small to do too much damage, but being stabbed hurts like a bitch. Not only that but it was probably just deep enough to slice through tendons and keep him immobile with pain for a while.

A shadow descends with a warrior’s battle cry. Shifting right, I roll and pop back to my feet, fists ready to defend and strike. Chest heaving, sweat streaming down my face and neck, I take several short breaths and charge the last man standing. My first punch connects with his jaw, cracking his bone and a few of my knuckles. But I push past the discomfort as I pull back to smash into his face again and again. Blood sprays everywhere and bones audibly crack and snap beneath my never-ending blows.

He drops to his knees, cries of pain and pleas to stop slipping from his blood-swollen lips, but I don’t listen or care. Gripping his greasy blond hair, I hold his face toward the floor and swing a knee with as much force as I can leverage. A spray of red shoots around me like an arc.

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