Power Switch: Power Play Series Book 3

by Mitchell, Kennedy L.

  “About the tattoos or the genuine reason why you decided to help?”

  “Both,” I say, shooting him a grin. “Why did you want to meet all the way out here? Couldn't we have found somewhere closer and safe?”

  My breaths come faster as we head up a steady incline. Shaking my hands, I struggle to get my muscles to relax to make the pace less strenuous. It’s either the hot man running beside me or the brooding hottie at my back who’s making me tense. Who knows? Maybe both.

  “I don't want the president to know you're working with us. It’ll be easier for you to gather inside information if he's unaware. That's why I chose this area. Plus these trails are challenging and a great workout.”

  “Two birds, one stone. Nice.” I roll my shoulders, trying to get them to drop from my ears.

  “You seem tense.”

  I nod. “Comes with the job. What do you expect from me in all this?”

  “Just listen, be aware of who he's meeting with behind closed doors. Try to get in on meetings, gain more of his trust so hopefully he’ll confide in you.”

  I snort. “Not likely.”

  “All we need is direction. We think we know how he's doing it and who he's manipulating to get his way, but the asshole has covered his tracks so well that it all appears legal. We have to get him on something that he's hiding.”

  “Like what?” I huff. A sharp pain cuts through my chest. I suck in a quick breath, and my stride falters.

  “Randi,” Trey's deep voice calls out behind me. “You okay?”

  Instead of responding—not that I could if I wanted to—I nod and keep running.

  “The EPA regulations he's putting into place and the drilling on federal land are all somewhat legal. His secretary of interior is brilliant in that regard.”

  “Shawn,” I wheeze.

  Okay, something’s wrong. We've gone less than a mile and I'm barely able to breathe.

  “Whit, yes. The funding and who he's selecting for the companies allowed to drill are where we need to catch him. We have to find proof that the companies he's chosen did not follow the normal bidding process and were selected based on who gave to your campaign. As I said before, that's where we lose the trail. We can't prove any of it.”

  Warm liquid tickles beneath my nose. My hand seems to weigh several pounds too much as I reach up to my face and swipe above my lip. Again my footing stumbles at the streak of red now coating my fingers.

  “Trey,” I call out, frantic, but my voice breaks as another pinch of pain steals the breath from my lungs.

  Sam curses as I stumble forward. A tattooed arm shoots out, wrapping around my stomach to keep me from falling face-first onto the dirt path. More shouts echo above me. The trees whirl in my vision as I'm rolled to my back, completely helpless to stop what's happening.

  I blink as I stare up at the cloudless blue sky, fighting to take a deep inhale.

  “Randi.” Trey's face hovers over mine, blocking the pretty view. “What hurts?”

  “Everything,” I gasp. “My chest. I can't breathe.” Tears trickle down my temples, soaking into my sweat-slick hair.

  “Poison,” someone says beside me.

  “Champ, fucking run,” T shouts, a hardness in his tone I’ve rarely heard. The unforgiving earth rolls beneath my head as I turn to the voice. T's dark eyes scan my face, his own pinched with worry.

  “It's okay, Mess. I got you.” The callus on Trey’s hand scrapes down my cheek. “Fuck,” he roars too close to my face. I flinch, my eyes sealing shut.

  A sweaty palm presses against my cheek, rolling my head for me to face the other way. Sam's bright green eyes scan over my face, his brows furrowed. Something presses against the top of my eyebrow and lifts my eyelids.

  “Roll her over.” When nothing happens, he shifts his focus up. “For fuck’s sake, roll her over. We need to get her to vomit up whatever she ingested.”

  Before I can fully process his words, I'm on my side and something’s being jammed down my throat. I gag and my stomach heaves, pushing out the bottle of water.

  “Again,” Trey says more like a curse.

  I lose count of how many times they jam their fingers down my throat, causing my gag reflex to spasm and shove out what little remained in my stomach. The muscle along my jaw tightens in an effort to keep my teeth from chattering.

  A new shadow draws my attention as Champ squats low and grabs my arm. Vision blurry, I watch as he tightens something around my bicep. Panic sets in. My fight-or-flight kicks in, sending a burst of energy to my limbs. Squirming against the ground, I try to move away as Champ bites the cap off a syringe and lowers the needle.

  “Easy there, lady. It's a multipurpose antidote,” he mutters around the cap still between his teeth. “You know we wouldn't hurt you.”

  Desperate for comfort, I search the few faces hovering over me until I find Trey's.

  “You're okay, baby. Trust us.”

  Our gazes locked, I nod. I barely feel the needle prick my vein. Coolness flows from the injection point and spreads up my arm, through my shoulder, and into my chest. A wonderful lightness settles over my muscles. With a raspy sigh, I sink into the soft dirt, relishing the glorious relaxed state the medicine washes over me. I lie like that for what feels like hours, watching the sun’s bright rays sparkle through the trees.

  “I feel like a soft rainbow. All glittery and beautiful and wonderful.”

  “What the hell is in that stuff?” someone asks beside my head.

  My limp body is hauled into the air. My head dangles back, my muscles unable to hold it upright.

  “There's a medical facility on the base.”

  “Someone support her head. We need to run back.”

  “If we had a unicorn, we could ride it,” I say with a giggle. “Am I dying?”

  “No, Mess. You're just fucking high.”

  I hum a noncommittal response. Something slips beneath my head, hoisting it higher, offering the support my neck can’t.

  “Let's move.”

  8

  Trey

  I failed.

  The one thing I've promised her from the beginning of our time together, and I couldn't follow through with. How can I promise her anything at this point? How would she ever trust me again if I do? I swore with every breath that she was safe. Yet today, she wasn't. Isn't.

  Poison. What the fuck?

  Who? How? The two questions that consume my thoughts as I stare down at the love of my life sleeping. Sleeping in a hospital bed, recovering from fucking rat poison.

  Exhaustion pulls at my thoughts, turning them sluggish and more self-deprecating. The rough scruff along my jaw scrapes against my sweat-slick palm as I scrub a hand over my face.

  “It's not your fault,” Tank says beside me without looking up from his phone. He's been glued to the thing since we arrived at the military hospital, keeping everyone updated on the situation. Thankfully, the medical center had more of the multiuse antidote available to administer as soon as we carried her through the doors. The entire compound is on lockdown, soldiers stationed at every entrance keeping the media's nosy eyes and ears far away from where Randi lies recovering.

  “Feels like my fault. I promised her we'd keep her safe. Does she look fucking safe to you?” I growl.

  “We don't even know how she ingested it. We’ll backtrack her steps the past twenty-four hours once she wakes up and isn't talking about damn unicorns. Start there. Don't lose focus.”

  “I'm not,” I hiss, narrowing my eyes at my best friend.

  “You are. You're making it personal.”

  “It is fucking personal.”

  “Exactly,” he grits out, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle along his cheek twitches. “This is why I said to stay the fuck away from her. You're too focused on blaming yourself, not looking at the bigger picture, just wallowing in self-pity. Pull your head out of your ass, Benson. We have a job to do, and you can't do it if you're too busy feeling sorry for yourself and hoping she'll
forgive you.”

  “I wouldn't,” I admit. “I failed her.”

  Slowly, his dark eyes shift from the screen to meet mine. I flinch at the intensity and annoyance behind his challenging stare.

  “Then you're off the team,” he states. My breathing falters. “You're no good to me like this. And you're no good to her.”

  “No. Davis, please.”

  The tightness around his eyes eases. He shakes his head, breaking the standoff.

  “What do I do with you, Trey? You're thinking like her boyfriend rather than her protector. You want to stay on the team?”

  I dip my chin, eyes pleading. I can't get kicked off the alpha team. This is my life. The team, the job, her. I can't lose this.

  “Then move on,” Tank continues. “It happened. Now we find out the who, the why, and the how.”

  “And kick the coward’s ass.”

  A small smirk pulls at his lips. “Now you're thinking like an agent.”

  The wall trembles at my back as I slam against it and cross my arms across my chest. Closing my eyes, I center my focus. Images of her lying on the dirt trail, blood trickling from her nose, keep trying to divert my attention, but I shove them to the back of my mind to process later.

  “Isn't poison a woman thing?” I ask absentmindedly. “I feel like I read that somewhere or heard it on a crime show.”

  “A woman or a coward. And we know two who have reason to hurt Randi.”

  My upper lip curls in a snarl. “But neither has had access to her food, her water.”

  “Doesn't mean they couldn't pay someone. Hell, Birmingham already hired someone once to take her out. Maybe this is his backup plan.”

  Reaching out, I pop the knuckles of my right hand before moving on to the left. “Maybe he already knew about Sam meeting with her. That first meeting when she initially turned him down. Birmingham wouldn't have known she said no; maybe he assumed she was already working with him.” Focusing on the stark white wall across the small medical room, I work my way through all the possibilities. “Maybe the fact that they used rat poison was symbolic almost.”

  “I thought that too.”

  “You did not,” I say, shooting him a condescending look.

  “Did too, while you’ve been brooding over in the corner for the last hour.”

  Eyes to the ceiling, I turn my thoughts back to the issue at hand.

  “The doc said she had to have eaten or drank the poison recently. So the last twenty-four hours. We were with her this morning. Did you notice anyone, see anything out of the ordinary?”

  Tank shakes his head. “I've been texting with Chaz. He doesn't remember anything from the prior shift, but he's calling all his guys to ask them personally. The one thing he does remember is she was locked in her office all night. She skipped dinner, again.”

  I groan. That woman, I swear. “We need to talk to her about that. Again,” I mumble. Glancing at my watch, I flick my gaze back to the beauty on the plain white sheets. “She should be waking up soon.”

  A light rapping against the thin wooden door sends Tank shooting up from the chair. Shoving off the wall, I reach for my ankle holster, grabbing the small 9mm and pointing the barrel at the slowly opening door.

  “Down, boy,” Sam says as he pushes the door open just wide enough for him to slip through. Shutting it, he leans against it, his hands tucked behind his back. “I have to head back into the city for a meeting but wanted to say bye to her first.”

  Every muscle itches to throw him to the hard linoleum floor as he approaches her bed.

  “Did you notice anything strange this morning?” I ask instead of resorting to jealousy-induced violence.

  “Besides her almost dying?” he quips, eyes still on the sleeping Randi. “Was she complaining about not feeling well?”

  Tank and I both shake our heads.

  “So it had to have happened just before you left, then. I overheard the doctor say she had high levels of the poison in her system. If she'd ingested it yesterday, she would've reacted sooner.”

  “Is that your official medical opinion?” I toss out with a condescending smirk. “Leave the investigation to us. You focus on taking down that bastard Birmingham.”

  “No love lost there, I see,” he says with a chuckle. “And what makes you think I’m after the president?”

  “Uh,” I say, trying to come up with something to cover my tracks. Tank relaxes in his chair, pulling out his phone once again and leaving me to handle my own slipup. “We believe he's targeting the VP.”

  “Why?” His hands tighten around the railing along the side of her bed.

  “It's a rocky relationship. Plus she went against his direct order to not attend the OPEC summit.”

  “Why did she do that?”

  I huff out a laugh. Stretching my arms high above my head, I groan as the tightness seeps out of my shoulders. “Because that's the VP. And she'd heard the rumbling about the gas prices while on a trip to Austin. She wanted to get to the bottom of it. For some reason, Birmingham didn't want her to go.”

  “Interesting.”

  “After that, there was an attempt on her life. It was a setup. We walked into a trap.”

  Sam's eyes widen a fraction. “I didn't hear anything about that.”

  I nod and relax back against the wall, gun still in hand. You know just in case the idiot decides to do something sketchy like touch her.

  “We kept it out of the media,” Tank responds, not bothering to look up from his phone as his thumbs fly across the screen.

  Sam nods. “Smart. So you think this, today's incident, has to do with a past disagreement.”

  “Sure.” The fool knows why today happened. Looks like we can't depend on him to be straightforward during this process. Sneaky-ass attorneys.

  A soft moan snaps our attention to the waking Randi. Her eyes slowly flutter open. After a few long blinks, like she's attempting to refocus her vision, she scans the room. Confusion registers on her face, her brows pulled and lips pursed.

  “Where am I?”

  “The Quantico marine base. Do you remember what happened?” I ask. Guilt eats at my gut as I stare at her pale face.

  She nods. “Yeah, I almost died. I think I remember someone saying something about poison?” she asks. Again her gaze searches the room. “Am I okay?”

  “The general antidote Champ gave you on the trail gave us enough time to get you here before there was any permanent damage done. I’m sure the doc will be back in shortly to give you a rundown. We'll also need to have you checked out by your personal physician when we get back to DC.”

  Her hazel eyes roll to the ceiling. “Can't wait.” Her left arm rises a fraction before halting midair when the IV line snags on the railing. Sighing, she lays her head back. “What happened though? How did it happen, I guess is the right question. Poison? That seems so… antiquated.”

  “That's what we're hoping you can help us with.” Tank slides his phone into the pocket of his shorts and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “What all have you eaten in the last twenty-four hours?”

  Attention on the corner of the blanket, twisting it between her fingers, she shakes her head. “Hell, I don't know. Water, coffee at the house.” Her shoulders rise and fall. “I didn't take any food from a stranger if that's what you're asking.”

  Tank huffs. “This is serious, Randi.”

  “I know it is, T.” An exhausted sigh pushes past her lips. “It's just that nothing seemed strange.” She pauses. “You say the last twenty-four hours?”

  Tank nods, eyes locked on hers.

  “Okay, so….” She closes her eyes. “Yesterday was breakfast with Senator Bradley. We ate at the yummy little diner around the corner from the house, remember?” I nod, even though she can't see me with her eyes sealed shut in concentration. “I actually ordered something different than my usual, so I wouldn't think someone could've prepared for that.”

  Tank pulls his phone out again and beg
ins typing. “I'll have someone stop by the diner and check it out just in case. What else?”

  Brows furrowed, she crinkles her nose. “Shit, I forgot to eat the rest of the day.” Peeking one eye open, she looks to me. “Oops.”

  “Madam VP.” I groan and run a hand over my face. “You keep forgetting to eat.”

  “Guessing this is a normal occurrence,” Sam pipes up with a questioning glance between the two of us.

  I grunt a response.

  “That's very unhealthy,” he adds, narrowing his eyes on Randi.

  “Thanks, Doc,” she huffs. I don't stop the smile from pulling up my cheeks.

  “Okay, so you didn't eat anything else yesterday afternoon or night. What about drinks? You mentioned coffee this morning. What about food?”

  She nods. “Water yesterday, maybe a Coke or two.” Again she lifts her arm but winces when the IV line snags. “Can someone get this fucking thing out of my fucking arm,” she shouts.

  Tank raises a bushy brow, flicking his gaze up to meet mine. “The doctor did say she might be more irritable than normal.”

  “I'll show you fucking irritable,” she practically growls. “Get the damn doctor in here.”

  “The coffee, Randi. Where did you get it? What did you eat for breakfast?”

  “The kitchen where I always get my coffee. Which is protected, all the time, by you guys. My chef, the cleaning staff, everyone is background checked. And not only that, they like me. They wouldn't have done that. And food?” She shrugs. “Oops again.”

  “That as in poisoning you. That as in attempted murder, tacking on treason.” Sam leans closer with each word. What’s his deal with creeping into her personal space?

  “Yes,” she grumbles at him. Focusing on the closed door, she sighs. “Birmingham or Whit is my guess.”

  “Either, maybe both,” I say, stepping closer to her bed. I slide a finger down her bare arm, desperate for any connection, not caring about Sam seeing. The need to comfort her, touch her outweighs the consequences of him knowing about us.