Power Switch: Power Play Series Book 3

by Mitchell, Kennedy L.

  She follows the movement. “When can I go home?”

  A shuffle sounds behind me before Tank appears at my side.

  “I'll go get the doc. Once he releases you to be under the care of your personal physician, we can fly you out of here.”

  “Is that necessary?” She groans. “I don't want the media to get wind of this.”

  Tank, Sam, and I exchange looks.

  She tips her head back against the bed. “Let me guess. Too late.”

  We all nod.

  “Awesome. Has Tae called?” she asks me directly.

  “The guys are fielding her calls and a few from your ex,” Tank responds. “Playboy and I were on protection duty while you were knocked out.”

  “Right,” she says with a tight smile. “In case someone else tried to kill me. Nice.”

  “You can call her when you get back and settled. The doc mentioned you'd need several days’ rest to allow your body to recover. There wasn't permanent damage, but it could turn that way if you don't take it easy.” Hopefully if I say it enough times, she'll actually do it. But knowing her, it wouldn't matter if we chained her to the bed. She'd find a way to work.

  “You still on board for helping us, Randi?” Sam asks.

  His poor timing for the inconsiderate question snaps the hold I’ve been fighting on my anger. Forgetting everything, I lunge forward, aiming to wrap my hand around his neck. Shock registers on his face before he quickly steps back just as my fingertips slide along his throat.

  “Trey!” Randi shouts. The heart monitor picks up, sending frantic beeps blaring through the room.

  “Benson,” Tank yells, yanking on my shoulder.

  All I see is red. Again I lunge over the bed, desperate to get my hands on the fucker.

  “She almost died, you fucking cunt.”

  “Not because of me,” he bites back.

  “It was fucking rat poison,” I shout. A massive arm wraps around my stomach, hauling me backward. The wall rattles, pain bursting along my spine as Tank slams my back against the drywall. “Why do you think that is?”

  The door slams open, and three men in suits storm through the door. Another set of hands pins me to the wall, but still I struggle. All the pent-up rage and all-consuming guilt fuels my every move.

  “Get it together,” Tank grits out in my ear with another hard shove to my right shoulder. “We don't know, remember?”

  I cringe at the bite of pain piercing my shoulder.

  “Everyone, out,” Randi calmly says over the chaos I've created. “Let him go. He won't hurt me.” Over the one marine's shoulders, I see her turn to Sam. “But he might kill you.”

  “He could try,” Sam says, glaring at me.

  “Just stop,” she snaps. “Yes, I'm still going to help. But not if you don't leave right now.” He doesn't make a single move toward the door. “Out!” she yells. “Everyone.”

  The hands restraining me loosen. When the men step back, I inhale a deep, calming breath. The cool air burns down my dry throat. The three marines file out, the last one shooting a daring glare over his shoulder before disappearing through the doorway. Sam grumbles something I can't make out as he strides out seconds behind the uniformed men.

  Randi looks to Tank and arches a brow. “You too, T. I need to talk to Trey, alone.”

  “That's not protocol. I can't leave you, not when this just happened, with only one agent—one psycho agent, at that—to protect you.”

  Her hospital gown-covered chest rises with a deep inhale. “Fine. Go stand in the corner and don't listen to our conversation.”

  He smiles. “I'll sit right here and play Candy Crush.”

  “How about you look up lasting effects of rat poisoning on a late-thirties female.”

  “Not nearly as fun.”

  “But useful,” she says with a smile. “The doctors talk gibberish. Tell me what WebMD says I should do.”

  Still smiling, he shakes his head. “Glad you're okay, Randi.”

  Tank's features harden when he looks to me. “You're a fucking idiot.”

  “I know,” I admit. “But you love me.”

  A heavy sigh sounds through the small room. “No clue why. You're a pain in my ass.”

  “And mine.” Randi reaches out to me, palm up. “Come here, Trouble.” Soothing calm washes through my veins as I interlace my fingers with hers, silencing the worry and halting my rising anger at the whole damn situation. “What am I going to do with you?”

  My knees pop as I crouch low, putting us nearly eye to eye. Careful of the tubes and wires, I slide her hand to my lips and press a hard kiss to the inside of her palm.

  “You know it's not all his doing,” she continues. “Kyle's had it out for me before Sam walked into our lives. It might make things a little worse if Kyle finds out, but none of this is because of Sam. We don't even know if it was Kyle. I'm on a lot of people's shit list, you know.”

  I nod. She's right. But I still want to blame someone right now. Anyone. I need a direction to turn my anger and frustration toward. A goal. A face. An enemy. Someone other than myself.

  “I almost lost you, again.” My voice is raspy as I fight through the battling emotions.

  What the hell is wrong with me? I'm stronger than this.

  It's her. She's a piece of my soul now, a part of me I don't ever want to lose.

  It's fear. This unknown feeling churning in my gut is fear of losing the one person I want to live for.

  My heart wrenches in pain when she slides her fingers from my own, only to have it thump with pure joy at the feel of her palm against my cheek. I lean into it, closing my eyes and savoring the sensation of her comforting touch.

  “But you didn't lose me. Look, I’m right here, still being a pain in the ass. Whoever's idea it was to keep an emergency antidote injection in our medical bag was brilliant. I need to thank them.” Her strained smile does nothing to ease a new wave of guilt.

  “It shouldn't have been needed. This shouldn't have happened at all, Randi. Don't you see that? You're in danger. And now they know they can get to you without us knowing. What good am I to you? I can't even protect you when you need it the most.”

  The side of her thumb strokes across my brow.

  Then she says two words, ripping my soul in two.

  “You're right.”

  9

  Randi

  Hurt and agony cover his features at my words. Leaning back, he attempts to draw away from my hand.

  “You don't understand,” I say quickly, hoping to dash the sadness in his lowered eyes. “What I meant was I agree with you. I shouldn't need things like an antidote on hand. But this role I’m in calls for it. I’m guessing that stocked medical pack wasn’t special ordered for me. Every VP before me has been targeted in some way. But unlike the others, I know who wants me dead.”

  Trey nods but doesn't relax against my awaiting palm.

  “Hey, look at me.” I wait until his gaze locks with mine. “None of this is your fault. I'm in a targeted role. I get that. I'm not mad, not disappointed. Well,” I huff. “Not at you. More me.”

  “Why the hell would you be disappointed in yourself?”

  The corner of my lip twitches up in an almost smile.

  “Because I've allowed this. I should've stopped Shawn and Kyle’s bullying, the harassment and violence the second it started. I wouldn't be here in this bed, poisoned for fuck’s sake, if I would've confronted them head-on months ago. But I didn’t. I made them think they can push me around without any repercussions. I made myself look weak in their eyes.” Anger at the man responsible for my pain swirls within me, heating my core. “This has to stop. They've crossed a line, and I'm done.”

  “I don't like the sound of this,” T says from where he sits, phone forgotten. “Plus, we don’t know for certain who poisoned you, remember?”

  “I told you not to listen,” I say, not dropping Trey's searching gaze. “And in this one case, I’m okay with finding guilt without the evidence
. We know who was behind this. Besides, it's not up to you, T, and it's not up to Trey.” Sighing, I find the ceiling and focus on making all this make sense. “I'm stronger than them, stronger than their attempts to knock me down. I was a teen mom who scratched and clawed her way through a crappy life in hopes of a better one. And now I’m here, in a stressful-as-hell but amazingly rewarding job, and they’re trying to take that from me? Hell to the no. I will not sit back and let two asshats continue to play their version of cat and mouse with me as the prey.”

  Taking a deep breath, I glance back and forth between the two men, who stare back wide-eyed.

  “I assume you have a plan,” Trey asks, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. I knew he would like the idea of fighting back.

  I shake my head with a laugh. “Not yet, but I will.”

  “I don't doubt it.” Standing with a groan, Trey strokes a hand over the top of my head. “But before we start planning their demise, you need to get out of here.”

  A slight buzzing draws my attention to his shorts. After pulling the phone from the side pocket, he cringes at the screen.

  “What?” What else could happen today?

  “I have to get back for this event tonight with Jessica.”

  I snarl and roll my eyes.

  “Don't give me that,” he responds with a chuckle. “Just playing my part in your world domination plan.”

  “Still don't like it,” I pout. Yeah, he's doing it for me, but I don't have to be happy that another woman gets him for the night. Especially Jessica, who's pulled a complete 360, going from friend to foe overnight. Something tells me I don't know the whole story behind that, and I should dig deeper to find the reasons behind her about face. But when? I've just made a declaration of war against the two most powerful men in DC, one who's already after my head and the other who'd probably get off watching my murder.

  Sickos.

  I really need to make a list. A kill list, sans the kill part.

  What would that make it?

  “Think your mom will help us find dirt on Kyle?” I ask absentmindedly.

  I can't call it my “to do” list. That makes it sound sexual, and the last men on Earth I’d “do” are number one and two on that list.

  “Probably not. It's one thing to help us stop the bill, but this is….”

  “My level of crazy but not hers,” I say with a genuine smile. It’s cool. I know it sounds a little off thinking I can take the two on. But one of them just tried to kill me—again—so all sanity has left the building. If it ever resided there in the first place, that is.

  “Exactly.” Leaning forward, he brushes a barely there kiss along my lips. “I'm going to get the doctor.”

  I watch as he crosses the small room, checking out his muscular calves, flexing thighs, and round ass. Biting my lip, I stare at that ass until the door closes behind him.

  “Down, girl,” T says, humor in his light tone. “So, we're going after Birmingham and Whit.”

  I nod. “I think Kyle first since the DOJ already wants him gone as well, and then we focus on Shawn. The easiest out would be to get the information needed to impeach Kyle, even though gaining said information wouldn’t be the easiest.”

  “We don't know if it was one of them who planted the poison. You’re jumping to conclusions.”

  I shrug. “Even if Kyle wasn't directly responsible for today’s incident, we know from the Russian intelligence we were given that he’s contacted people to harm me. I have to do this, T.”

  “You realize if you do take these men on, your political career and your life will be at risk even more than they are currently.”

  “I don't care about the first. The second, well, that's what you and the guys are for, right?” I shoot him a hopeful grin.

  His cheeks bunch with a wide smile. “Hell, woman. You weren't kidding about keeping things interesting.” He chuckles. “Do what you need to do. We've got your back.”

  The door swings open, and a doctor walks through with Trey hot on his heels. As the doc goes through the motions of his release checklist, readying me to get the hell out of here, I zone out.

  Kyle will get what’s coming to him. Then I’ll tackle the Shawn issue. Not much of a plan, but I’m done sitting back and being on the defensive.

  It’s time to take control of the game.

  No matter what it takes.

  * * *

  Two weeks of taking it easy. Two weeks of being waited on hand and foot and meetings coming to me. Two whole weeks of plotting Kyle’s demise, and still I have zero clue as to how. Sam is still optimistic that I'll somehow gain information on the oil scam he has going on, but I'm not so sure. If the poison was planted by Kyle, or someone he paid off, then he already knows I'm working with the DOJ and will keep things even closer to his chest than ever before.

  No, the original way to help Sam is scrapped. It has to be something else. Or another way for me to gain the information we need without involving Kyle at all.

  I do have another way, but… do I really want to involve the Russians with Sam around? That relationship is controversial at best, but do I really have another choice?

  This is what I've debated back and forth while lounging around the house, hating the easy life. Outside of this beautiful prison, life has continued. My various community projects are performing well under those I've selected to lead them. Small positive impacts for those living below the poverty line are dotting up all over the map. Which is good since my mind is elsewhere.

  Trey's annoyed voice reaches my ears where I sit in the living room. Unpretzeling my legs, I quietly press my toes to the vintage rug beneath the couch. Tiptoeing across the floor, I let my ear lead me, hoping to catch bits and pieces of his conversation as I creep toward the open french doors.

  “You know I can't,” he says, voice tight. “Don't ask me that again.” I hold my breath so he doesn't hear me through a long pause in the private conversation. Taking a step closer, I stay hidden behind the wall and angle my ear closer to the door. “Stay at your place until I can get there, then.” My heart drops. “I gotta go. Yeah, bye.”

  Sucking in a sharp breath, I seal my back against the wall as his footsteps draw closer. He searches the room as he steps across the threshold, gaze darting until he finds me.

  I wave.

  Wave.

  I'm the vice president of the United States, and I just gave a spirit finger wave. Go me. I’m so winning this day.

  “Mess.”

  “Trouble.”

  “Questions?”

  I fake confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  He laughs into his fist. “You'd make a terrible spy.”

  “No doubt. Okay, fine, you caught me. What was that call all about, hmm?”

  Trey drags a hand down his face. “Jessica. She's getting fucking clingy. Calling all the time, asking me to come over. And now she thinks someone is following her and keeps trying to get me to come over and protect her.”

  My forehead wrinkles as I raise both brows. “Really? That's scary. Think it has something to do with Shawn? I mean, he went after Rachel, so he might do the same with Jessica since he thinks you two are a real couple.”

  Anger flashes in his eyes. “Maybe. Doubtful though. Plus, I think she's making it all up.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  He offers me a pointed look before rolling his neck. Reaching back, he massages the muscles there. “Who knows? All I know is I'm damn exhausted.”

  A tingle of guilt eats at me. He’s only in this exhausting situation with Jessica because of me. How can I be so selfish, asking him to keep this up?

  “If you want to back out—”

  He shakes his head. “It's not that. It's all of it combined. And we're still trying to figure out who my mother's inside guy is on the team. It's nonstop.”

  Shit, here I've been relaxing and taking it easy while the guys are running ragged. I’d forgotten about the inside man we have somewhere on the team. Trey’
s mother didn’t give a single clue as to who’s been feeding her information, just that she has someone. Based on the information she had on the altercation in Texas between Trey and my mother’s slimy boyfriend, we believe her. But they still don’t know who it could be.

  “We need a vacation,” I say in jest.

  His head pops up, offering me his full attention. “You do.”

  “Not just me. All of us.”

  “I will in three and a half years,” he says with a smile. “But until then, you deserve one. You get several weeks off a year during your term. Take a week off, go somewhere you can relax.”

  Chewing on my thumbnail, I debate the suggestion. “Maybe Taeler could come with me. Somewhere for Christmas would be fun, and she’ll be out of school for the long break. Somewhere warm maybe.”

  His smile widens, displaying his straight white teeth. “That's a great idea. Past presidents have visited Hawaii, which means there’s housing with the level of security we would need.”

  My head bobs as the idea takes root. “Let's do it. I'll talk to my secretary about the arrangements, and T can work out the security details with her. Four months’ planning should be enough, right?”

  Trey nods.

  “Planning for what?”

  I gasp in surprise as Trey reaches for the gun nestled beneath his suit jacket while turning toward the door. Kyle steps through the parted french doors, broad smile stretched across his arrogant face. His gaze flicks between Trey and me as he pauses behind a red velvet wingback chair.

  “Benson. Walmart,” he says in way of greeting. Rounding the Victorian-looking chair, he unbuttons his suit jacket and folds down into the stiff cushions, the picture of ease.

  Trey looks to me. “Were you expecting him?”

  I shake my head.

  “What are you doing here, Kyle?” I snarl. My hands shake with nerves and fear races through my veins just at the sight of him. Rolling my shoulders, I push off the wall, marching across the room toward him when every cell in my body screams at me to run in the opposite direction.

  “Came by to see how you were doing. I heard about the… incident.” He smirks.