Page 62 of Power Term

“Thanks. And yeah, it was rough, but he was fine until now. Trey?” Leaning closer, I place a hand on his chest, allowing his natural heat to soak through to my palm. “I’m good now. You got us through it all, but now I need to get my ribs checked out.” For the first time since we left the basement, his entire focus shifts to me. “Remember my ribs? They hurt like hell, and I’m pretty sure I have a concussion. My thoughts are way more random than normal, even for me.” I offer him a small smile. “I’ll be fine. Just let me down, okay?”

Earlier I needed him to be strong for me. To carry me when I couldn’t fathom going another step, feeling too weak to carry on, even if that meant safety. Freedom. Now I need to be the strong one and help him let me go. I don’t want to—I want to stay in these safe arms forever—but I know that’s what he needs.

“Mess.” His voice is ragged. “I can’t let you go just yet. I’ll take you.”

“Okay, Trouble.” Turning to T and Smith, I dip my chin. “Lead the way, boys.”

Against my better judgment, I take a deep inhale the moment we clear the threshold and step out onto the small wooden porch. Enormous trees surround us, a thin gravel driveway the only break between them. Above us, the thump of several helicopter blades fills the early evening air. Pale pinks and blues highlight the sky in a peaceful feel that contradicts the twenty or so SWAT vehicles and SUVs surrounding the cabin.

Trey clomps down the few stairs, his hold tight to keep me from jostling around. We stay close to T as he leads us through the crowd of people now staring. In true Randi fashion, I hold up both thumbs like the idiot I am.

The small gesture cracks the ice surrounding Trey. The deep lines along his forehead lessen; the concern and focus surrounding his narrowed eyes lifts. His footsteps smooth, his strides slow to a less urgent pace. Against my shoulder, I feel his chest balloon out with a deep inhale.

T directs us to the red ambulance, its lights still flashing, where two familiar faces wait.

“Oh goodie it’s Bert and Ernie,” I grumble.

The back doors are already open when Trey pauses in front of the doctors. Inside, another team of medical personnel stares, eyes wide. Based on their expressions and those we just passed, I must look way worse than I realize.

Bert… or maybe Ernie… whoever steps forward, gesturing inside the ambulance. Trey’s hold tightens a fraction.

“Why don’t you sit with me?” I offer as I tug on Trey’s shirt to gain his full attention. “And then you can find out what present T and Agent Smith have for you. I bet it’s a unicorn.”

“That would be a present for you, not me. Come on, up you go.” A heavy breath pushes over my matted hair as he steps into the ambulance and squats low, maneuvering past the awaiting medical staff and stretcher.

Sighing in relief, I close my eyes, anticipating him lowering me to the stretcher.

But he doesn’t. Those arms cradling me to his lean chest don’t loosen a fraction as he sits down on a bench. Shifting, he leans against the shelves of supplies, his hold never wavering.

“Sir, we need—” Ernie says as he wrings his thin fingers, glancing from me to Trey.

“Do what you need to do, but she’s staying right here.” Athunkreverberates around the ambulance as Trey slams the stolen gun to the bench. “Do we have a problem?”

“No, no problem, Agent… Agent—”

“Benson,” I chime in. “Agent Benson.”

“Right, okay. Well, let’s see what we have here,” Bert says as he steps into the ambulance and shuffles toward us.

He stills at Trey’s inhuman growl.

“Agent Benson, we need to—”

“Her,” he grunts and nods toward the quivering female medic in the back. “Not you, not him. Her.”

“Okay, big boy,” I say, softly patting his chest. I shoot T a panic-filled glance, which only earns me a shoulder shrug. “Seriously, T. Help me out here.”

“I would, but I’d be doing the same thing with my Sarah. Let him have this, Randi. Once he feels comfortable, he’ll be back to the same old idiot we know and love.”

“If I weren’t in so much pain and at the point of near exhaustion, I’d balk at this behavior, Trey Benson.” I jab a finger to his sternum to let him know I mean business. But the answering smirk tells me he sees through my bravado. “Okay, fine, I love it.” Shifting to face the still terrified female medic, I extend both arms, palms up. “Do your worst.”

“Or best.”

“Right.” I tilt my head toward Trey. “What he said.”

Her hands shake as she takes mine. “Madam President—”

“Randi, please. I’m covered in blood. I think we’re past the formalities.”

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