Page 65 of Power Term

But now I don’t because he’s here—alive. How the fuck that happened, I still don’t know.

“You stashed him in the woods?” I duck under a low-hanging evergreen limb, the stiff needles scraping across my bare forearm.

“If no one knows he’s missing, then no one will have anything to report.”

I scoff at Smith’s remark, making him pause. “Guessing that was your idea? No way in hell the big guy would ever break rules. Believe me, I’ve tried to get him to loosen up, but it never happens.”

“Things change when a man looks you straight in the face and, without giving two shits, tells his skunk-ass boys to kill you.” The growing shadows from the dipping sun and tree cover keep me from reading Tank’s face. “But still.” He turns with a smile. “You’re right, it was his idea.”

“Fucking knew it. You owe me a drink.” Swiping a twig from the ground, I launch it at Tank’s head. “In all seriousness, I’m glad you’re not dead. Thanks for living.”

“You have this bastard to thank for that.” He hooks a thumb in Smith’s direction. “I was good as dead being tied up and surrounded. Then he showed up, taking them all out before they even knew what was going on.”

“How—”

“I saw you go through the escape tunnel and figured if the man orchestrated the abduction of the president and held her hostage without a single slipup, then he had an escape scenario in place in case we found him before he was ready,” Smith says like it’s no big deal.

“You knew he would blow the warehouse.” As we step into a small clearing, I quicken my steps to walk beside Tank. “Hey, bestie.”

“Don’t make this awkward,” Tank says on a sigh.

“I figured he would blow the warehouse or the tunnel, leaving me shit out of luck or dead. And considering neither was a scenario I was good with, I followed the last guy through the tunnel.” Smith swings the assault rifle over his shoulder, allowing it to hang from the strap. “The dumbasses didn’t even think to turn and look to see if they were followed.”

“That must have put you near the explosion itself.”

He nods. “I’ve had worse. Can’t hear out of my right ear, but I’m guessing that will come back eventually.”

Lifting the hem of my T-shirt, I wipe my forehead and upper lip. “Where the fuck did you guys leave Whit? North Carolina?”

“Just past the clearing. Stop whining. We did something nice for you.” Tank shoves my bicep hard, sending me staggering a few feet to stay upright.

“You’re the best gift giver, Tank. My fiancée’s nemesis in chains—”

“Rope. We were fresh out of chains.” I smirk at Smith’s response. Maybe he’ll fit in with us after all. Now that I know what I know, he’s not half bad. I didn’t realize how my suspicions had dampened how I acted around him.

“Either way, you caught him and tied him up for me to dispose of.” I clap a hand on Tank’s wide shoulder. “It’s better than a blow job on Christmas morning.”

“You’re sick.” Tank shakes his head but can’t hide his growing grin.

“You love me.” Letting go of his shoulder, I begin to crack the knuckles on one hand before moving to the other. “So you followed us through the tunnel, popped out—"”

“Snuck out,” Smith cuts in. “I’m not a damn bunny.”

“Right, snuck out, saw what was about to go down with Tank, and killed everyone before freeing him and following us.” I run through the events in my mind, but the details don’t match up with my memory. “I only heard one shot. Do you have a silencer?”

Smith holds up his agency-issued nine millimeter in one hand and the silencer in another. “Standard issue from Homeland.”

“Fuck, I knew those bastards get all the good toys.” I reach across Tank to grab it from Smith’s hand only for him to jerk it out of my reach just as my fingers graze the smooth metal. “Can you get me one?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? Come on, help your fellow amigo out.”

At the edge of the clearing, we pause. Tank raises his hand, finger pointed into a thick cluster of trees. I follow his line of sight to a man slumped forward, upper body tied to a tree. Two special forces boys stand guard, their guns pointed at Whit’s head.

“Amigo?” Smith’s question sounds distant as the anger and fury from the last twenty-four hours come roaring back, demanding an outlet.

“Three amigos, that’s us. Now if you’ll excuse me.” I shove past Tank only to be yanked to a stop. I glare at his hold on my wrist. “Let go.”

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