Power Term: A Secret Service Romantic Suspense Series (Power Play Book 5)

by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  “What can I say? I’ve always had lofty goals.” I sink my teeth into my lower lip to calm the trembling. A fresh trickle of blood seeps over my tongue from the reopened split. “All this, today, the poisoning, the attacks during the campaign… all of it is because of him, wasn’t it? All because I didn’t want to be Kyle’s wife and chose the option that helped better me, better our country.”

  “Oh, Trailer.” I twist, a bolt of stabbing pain shooting down my spine as I crane my neck in the direction of Shawn’s voice. “This is about much more than that.”

  The creak of wood draws my attention to the set of stairs I noticed when I first woke up. Dressed in a different pair of dark jeans and a pristine white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, he descends the stairs.

  “This is a little overboard even for you.” Rolling back to my side, I face Trey, whose whole focus is zeroed in on Shawn, the vulnerability I witnessed earlier completely gone, leaving a hard stone face in its place. “You’ve taken pouting because you didn’t get your way to a whole new level.”

  “I’m not pouting,” Shawn says, his voice now directly behind me. “It’s called restitution, and I plan to use you two to fully recover what I’ve lost.”

  “Your mind?” I snap. “This is crazy, Shawn.”

  “Ah, see, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m focused, driven. I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand the need to recover what was taken from me.”

  “It was never yours to begin with. I was the reason we won. You wouldn’t have made it onto the final ticket. I did that, my background and compassion for the American people. They would’ve seen through your fake exterior to your psycho soul and run the other way. Don’t talk like winning the non-incumbent ticket was a done deal.”

  “We would’ve found a way. It was Birmingham’s advisors who suspected we would lose if we didn’t have someone more….”

  “Trustworthy?” I pipe up.

  “Common.”

  “I’ll testify to the fact that there is nothing common about Randi Sawyer.”

  “Thank you.” I shoot a small smile at Trey, who doesn't even notice as he tracks Shawn’s movements.

  “You stole the power from me, and power is everything in DC. After Birmingham chose you for a running mate, I was nothing in that damn city. Connections, business relations, everything went to shit the moment he announced you as his VP candidate. You cost me millions.” The bite in his harsh voice makes me cringe.

  “Sorry?” I squeak.

  “Sorry?” The chuckle he gives as he rounds the bed makes me shudder. “Sorry doesn't even begin to cover what I’ve lost because of you. My family name means nothing now. All they see is the man who was passed over for a trailer trash whore. You made me look like a fool. Everything I’ve worked for my entire life crumbled at my feet that day, then again when you and Birmingham somehow won the election. Which is why you’re here, to ease the suffering you caused me, my family name. Rent-a-cop here is a bonus I wasn’t expecting. Two birds, one stone today or whenever we finish this. I won’t lie, the idea of this extended for a few days sounds perfect to me.”

  “If we last that long, you arrogant fuck. She won’t last another hour or two unless she gets some water. Or did you miss class that day where they taught us humans need water and food to survive?” A devious smile spreads across Trey’s face. “Let me guess, your boyfriend had you bent over the bleachers that day they covered survival in science.”

  “Oh snap.” The giggle dies on my lips at the look of fury on Shawn’s flushed face, his narrowed eyes fixed on me. Terrible idea. Really the worst decision I’ve made in a really long time. “What? It was funny.”

  “You two don’t get it, do you? You two won’t just die down here. You will suffer—”

  “Trembling in my boots,” Trey says on a yawn. “About that water. Do you put an order in with room service? I’d like sparkling, flavored if you have it. Randi?”

  “Plain is fine for me.”

  Brows raised, we turn our expectant faces to Shawn, who looks like he’s about to blow a damn gasket.

  “Now if you don’t mind, we were having a private conversation.” In dismissal, Trey turns, putting his full focus back on me. A slight twinkle in his gaze tells me he’s having way too much fun pushing Shawn’s buttons. We’re idiots, of course, taunting a lunatic, but this is us, and I wouldn’t want my last few hours of life to be without a few smiles and giggles. Trey’s wink tells me he feels the same. “So back to that text I sent. What do you say? Yes or no?”

  Ah, wondered when he’d bring that up. Thought maybe he’d let it slide considering our circumstances but apparently not. Such a guy, not letting the hope of anal fade just because we might die a horrible death.

  “Think that’s allowed in heaven?”

  “Probably not. In hell, no doubt.”

  “Then why does anyone want to go up when down seems to be where the eternal party is held?”

  “Fake news fed to us by the churches to keep us from having fun.”

  “Figured. Plus I’m always cold, so hell might be pleasant for someone like me.”

  “You mean cold-blooded.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’ve always thought that joke was funny.”

  “It is.”

  “Enough,” Shawn shouts. I swear he almost stomps his foot like a petulant toddler. Someone needs to spank him, teach him not to pout and get all murder-y because he didn’t get his way.

  “Or what?” Trey’s snort sounds as forced as the supposed calm his body radiates. “We both know you won’t get your hands dirty now that you’ve changed. Wouldn’t want to ruin that Kmart clearance rack dress shirt. Lord knows it’ll disintegrate after one wash.”

  “It’s Armani,” Shawn barks.

  “Darmani maybe,” I quip, earning me a smirk from Trey.

  “Now about that water—”

  Shawn’s roar drowns out whatever Trey was going to say next as he lunges, fist swinging through the air. Flesh smacks flesh, and Trey’s head snaps to the right with the force of the hit. For a moment, my own heavy wheezing breaths—note to self: that doesn't sound or feel good; Shawn could’ve been right about the punctured lung assessment earlier—are all I can hear.

  The spite-filled glare Trey shoots Shawn as he spits a mouthful of crimson liquid to the floor causes a blast of heat to burn in my lower belly. That promise of death in Trey’s bright honey brown eyes should not turn me on, but it does. I’ve always said there was something terribly wrong with me.

  Eh, I’m hours from an excruciating death. Not going to change anything now. Might as well revel in my messed-up fetishes.

  “And look, I’m already tied up,” I mutter.

  “I like where your head’s at, Mess.” Peeking through my lashes, I find Trey’s bloody lips stretched in a full smile. “Later.”

  “You two think this is funny?” Shawn cradles his hand against his chest, massaging the knuckles he smashed across Trey’s face.

  “You know what I don’t get,” Trey says after spitting another mouthful of blood to the floor. “The tunnel. Fuck knows you didn’t dig it.”

  “Ah.” Shawn drops his hand and sits in a chair I failed to see earlier. “You are correct there. I did not build it. I’ve had a very long time to plan out every detail. From hiring the best mercenary to abduct Trailer, to securing a private location with an escape route, to here. Where you’ll never be seen again after I’m through with you.”

  “How did you get the asshole we know as Ponder on the beta team?” Trey asks.

  “Ponder?” I mouth. “It was Ponder?”

  Trey nods, pressing his lips into a thin line, telling me he has more to say on that topic.

  “Ah, see, that was a surprise to me too. I didn’t place him on her security detail, someone else did. Someone else wants her dead, whereas I wanted her… vulnerable. He was to abduct Trailer, help me ensure her compliance during our escape—”

  “Is that what you call be
ating the shit out of me? Making me compliant?”

  A shoulder rises and falls with Shawn’s unconcerned shrug. “It worked, didn’t it? I will admit they found you sooner than I expected, but that was why I had a plan C in place on the off chance our location was discovered before we could escape.”

  “That’s why you blew the entrance to the tunnel—”

  “The warehouse, not just the tunnel entrance. I didn’t want to lead the Secret Service and FBI to investigate why I chose that warehouse in the first place, or then they’d know where the tunnel ended. See, the FBI raided that warehouse years ago. A known human trafficking ring utilized it to receive their shipments, then the tunnel to export them without anyone knowing. Not that it matters now, because even if they do discover the tunnel’s exit, we’re far from there now. Far from anything, actually.” That icy stare narrows in my direction. “No one to hear you beg except me.”

  “All this for what?” I croak. “For revenge.”

  “No, Trailer. Like I said earlier, for restitution. Which I will bleed from your boyfriend first, then you. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to take my time so you have a chance to say goodbye.”

  I swallow down the tears clogging my throat. “I’ll do it. I’ll call Sam, make him take you on as the VP. Just give me a phone. I’ll make the call.”

  In three slow, calculated steps, he pauses in front of my face. Twisting to lean against my bound hands, I stare up at him. A wide smile splits his face—a knowing smile.

  “Oh, Trailer. It’s too late for that. There is nothing left, no bargaining chip you hold to stop what’s to come. Not that it ever would have.”

  I feel my face pale. He never expected me to make that call. It was a distraction. A reason to beat me into submission and taunt me with what’s to come. Fuck, I should’ve known that wasn’t his endgame after all. There’s no way it ever could’ve happened.

  This right here, right now, was his plan all along. Me, alone and vulnerable. Trey and Tank finding me so fast just offered up a little bonus for Shawn and his evil plot. They played into his hands without even knowing it.

  Now for the final stage of his diabolical plan.

  Trey’s death.

  Then mine.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Randi

  Shawn’s humorless chuckle seems to echo long after he climbed the stairs and slipped back through the unseen door. The entire conversation runs on repeat as I stare with glassy eyes up at the unfinished ceiling.

  My hair slides along the sheets as I shift my angle for a different view of the exposed floor joists and wiring. It’s that exposed wiring that holds my rapt attention.

  “You know, one time when I was still living with my mom, our trailer almost caught on fire.” Shifting again, I study the various rubber-coated colors differentiating the wire’s purpose. “It was the burning rubber that I smelled first. Thank the unicorn gods the side window was open or I wouldn’t have noticed something was off before it was too late. Two frayed wires near the electrical output we were hooked up to had caught fire, the flames slowly working their way along the rubber coating toward the trailer.” Laying my cheek along the bed, I catch Trey’s obvious confusion as to why the hell I’m bringing this up. “Did you know you can’t put an electrical fire out with water? It has to be some kind of flame suppressant like… flour. It’s only by sheer luck we’d learned about it the week before in science class.”

  “Ah, so you were in science class that day, not bent over the bleachers like that fuckstick upstairs.” A mischievous gleam flickers in his gaze.

  “No, Ben was not fucking me on the bleachers.” Trey’s responding possessive growl somehow eases the fear strangling my lungs. “Hey, you said it, not me.”

  “Don’t say his name again.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I bring this up because that wiring above us is exposed and runs along the wall behind you. None of the walls are finished, so everything down here is exposed.”

  “You’re suggesting we catch the place on fire.”

  I attempt a shrug only to grimace as the motion tugs at my bindings. “If we had a way to cut out of these zip ties and fray the wiring without electrocuting ourselves… yeah. But we’re not that lucky.” If we were, we wouldn’t be sitting down here waiting for our deaths.

  “I might have something that would work.”

  “Okay….”

  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 a
s 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.”

  “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.