Power Switch: Power Play Series Book 3

by Mitchell, Kennedy L.

  “Incident,” I say with a snort.

  “You look well enough. Must not have been as bad as the media was making it out to be.”

  “We had it under control,” Trey says close behind me.

  A tense pause pulses through the room.

  “That's reassuring,” Kyle finally says. Brushing off a fleck of white lint from his otherwise pristine black suit pants, he raises his blue eyes to mine. “Seems your protection team is always in the right place at the right time”

  I nod and shrug. “It's their job, isn't it?”

  His hard gaze shifts over my shoulder. “It is. And here I thought you were nothing more than a rent-a-cop, Benson. Looks like you're useful after all.”

  A low growl vibrates against my back.

  “I came to warn you, Walmart.” Kyle sneers.

  “Seriously?” I choke out. “You. Warn me. Against… what?”

  “Not what. Who. I hear you've made some unsavory friends.”

  Well, hell, that doesn't really narrow it down.

  Russians?

  DOJ?

  Trey's mom?

  It's a growing list.

  “And if I did, why would that be any of your concern?” I ask. The plush cushions give under my weight as I drop to the couch and lean back like I'm not the tense ball of nerves that I am.

  Something cold flashes behind his eyes. “Have you not learned your lesson? This city is not some damn hick town in Texas. These people play for blood and money, and you sure as hell can’t pay with cash. Take my advice, Randi. Not only are you in the wrong league here, you're in the wrong fucking game.”

  “But the game is so fun,” I tease.

  “You’re a damn fool.” Pursing his lips, he slides them back and forth, almost like he’s debating telling me more. “Just stay the hell out of my business, or it won't matter who you've fucked to keep you safe. No one will be able to protect you.”

  “Is that a threat?” Trey's deep voice promises pain as he takes a challenging step toward Kyle.

  “Take it how you want, but know this. If you don't keep her trailer trash ass out of my affairs, there will be no more warnings.”

  “This trailer trash ass isn't stupid.” Both men shift their laser focus to me. Stretching my arms back along the couch, I give Kyle my best conniving smile. “You're doing something behind my back that's… unsavory at best, illegal at worst. However, I specifically remember signing an agreement stating I'd support you through the campaign and after. If I break said contract, I owe you a shit ton of money, which, as you know, I don't have.”

  Kyle's eyes narrow. “Surely you don't expect me to believe that.”

  I lift a shoulder. “Believe what you want. I stopped the bill.” I smirk. “Now all I want to do is focus on my other projects. Yes, the DOJ came to me asking for my help investigating something to do with you, which I’m assuming is what you’re referring to in the ‘unsavory friends’ category. But I shut it down.”

  Kyle steeples his fingers, pressing the tips into the dimple of his chin. “Interesting story. Keep going.”

  “That's it,” I admit with a laugh. “You're getting all stabby about something that hasn't happened. I know they're after something, yes, but that's it. I've learned that to get anything done in this town, you have to play the game. I've said before that I refuse to be your pawn, and I refused to be theirs as well. I'm in this for me. What I can do for the American citizens. Nothing else matters. You promised to leave me alone if I defeated your bill, which I did. Now you need to uphold your end of the bargain.”

  Sweat slicks my palms and the back of my neck, but I refuse to drop his probing stare, refuse to show him any weakness. This is how I'll eventually beat him, by winning his trust. Shoving as many truth-laced lies as possible down his vile throat until he believes me.

  “I’m inclined to disbelieve you.”

  I lift my brows in a silent question.

  “If you turned them down, as you say you did, then why has AAG Pierce been stopping by? Why was he on that random outing of yours out in the middle of nowhere, where it seemed you didn't want to be seen together?”

  Dread seizes my lungs, cutting off my breath.

  Well, fuck. I walked into that one.

  Think, Randi, and think damn quick.

  A story forms, a bad one, but still a story I can spin.

  Sorry, Trey.

  “Have you seen him?” I ask, forcing my brow to arch when everything else seems frozen in panic.

  “I don't follow.” Kyle tilts his head, studying me like I'm some kind of freak show. Who knows? To him, maybe I am.

  “He's hot as hell, Kyle.” I try to ignore the stiffening of Trey's shoulders. “And I’m not one to pass up someone like him when it was so freely offered.”

  “You're fucking him.” A hint of belief lightens his tone.

  “I don't kiss and tell.” I laugh with a wink. “But yeah. Did you know he has tattoos?” I close my eyes like I'm imagining them and sigh in pleasure.

  “And you're okay with this?” I peek one eye open, knowing full well he's not talking to me.

  “I got what I needed out of that relationship.” I hate the vile words coming from my mouth. Even if Trey does know they're all lies, it hurts saying them. I can't imagine what it's like to hear them.

  “So I heard. Nice move, by the way, using him to get to the real power in the family. Did not expect that level of play from someone like you.” If I'm not mistaken, a hint of approval lingers in Kyle’s voice. “Maybe you're cut out for this city after all. However, I'm no idiot. I don't believe you.”

  “How do you suggest I prove it?” There's no need to fake the exhaustion in my voice. Fingers to my temples, I slowly massage in small circles. “Not that I need your approval for any of this, but I would love to not die a slow death. If I can find a way for you to call off the target on my back, I'll do it.”

  Tipping his head back, Kyle's loud, full laugh shudders around the room. “I take back what I said. You’re a damn fool. As far as making me trust you, I’ll think on that, Walmart. I'm sure I can come up with a way for you to prove your… loyalty to this office.”

  A shiver of dread slides down my sweaty spine.

  “You do that and let me know.”

  We push out of our seats at the same time. With a nod, Kyle adjusts his jacket and strolls out of the room just as quietly as he appeared.

  I keep my gaze focused on the hallway wall just outside the doors, afraid to turn and face Trey.

  “Trouble—”

  “I know, Randi. Fuck, I know.”

  I swallow against a parched throat and slowly turn to him. Panic sets in when he won't meet my pleading stare.

  His hands tighten into fists at his side. “Doesn't mean I have to like it.”

  With that, he storms to the door, leaving me gaping at his back, struggling to find the words to call him back and ease his frustration.

  But the right words don’t come.

  10

  Randi

  The coppery taste of blood slithers across the tip of my tongue as I glide it along my lips. Frowning at my thumbnail, I tug a tissue from the box on the side table to dab at the crimson liquid seeping down to my nail bed. I wince at the initial sting of the rough tissue against the raw section where my nail used to be.

  I shouldn't be this nervous. This meeting with Sam is nothing new, except for the conversation I’ll unload on him. That's the part I'm dreading. What if he laughs or outright refuses to be my pretend boy toy? Or what if he already has a girlfriend?

  Or a boyfriend?

  Groaning, I wrap the tissue around my thumb in a makeshift bandage and press the heels of both palms to my forehead. I really didn't think it through last week when Kyle stopped by unannounced. He threw me off my game. Well, he would've if I had any. Let’s be honest, I’ve winged everything since the day we stepped on the campaign trail.

  Maybe it's a good thing he stopped by. It pushed me into action. Sure, the
direction I chose isn't the best route, but at least I'm doing something now instead of sitting on my ass trying to come up with the perfect plan.

  Even if I have zero clue where I'll go from here, where I am now is better than where I was last week. Kyle's somewhat off my back, which means the attempts on my life will stop—hopefully. Now all I have to do is figure out what's next in my master plan to take down Kyle.

  But that's what's adding to my nerves.

  If we gain the information to impeach Kyle, if I help dethrone the asshole, then that will leave the president spot available.

  For me to fulfill.

  A wave of nausea churns my stomach and heat builds in my veins, making my skin hot. I can't run a country. Hell, I'm barely doing my part as the second-in-command. To be the main person, the head honcho? That’s a hard pass.

  No.

  Just no.

  But I've kind of backed myself into a corner with my whole “Kyle and Shawn need to go down” plan. Because if Kyle steps down, then I have zero choice in the matter. I’ll be sworn in as Randi Sawyer, President of the United States of America.

  Shit.

  I swallow down the light lunch I ate earlier with a senator across town that's trying to make a reappearance. Shaking my head, I lean back and take a deep breath, hoping the nausea spell will pass.

  “You're feeling sick again,” Trey states somewhere behind me.

  Eyes closed, I inhale through my nose and nod, not daring to respond.

  “I'll call the doctor.”

  I shake my head and squeeze my eyes tighter to fight the wave of dizziness.

  “It's been three weeks, Randi.” This time, it's T who's voicing his concern from across the room. “She didn't say anything about the side effects lasting this long.”

  “I'm fine,” I rasp. “Can one of you get me some water?”

  Within seconds, a cool plastic bottle is pressed against my hot cheek. Forcing a tight smile, I grab the bottle with a shaky hand.

  “Thanks,” I say around the lip as I take a small sip. The cool water soothes the unease churning in my stomach, dispelling the urgent need to puke. “I don't think it's from that.”

  “You're pregnant,” T says as a joke.

  “Not funny,” Trey snaps.

  “Not funny at all.” After another few sips, I set the bottle down on the polished wooden side table. “No, not pregnant. The doctors at Quantico verified that. I'm just nervous, I guess. All of this is taking its toll.”

  Peeking my eyes open, I find the two staring at each other, a nonverbal conversation going on from across the room.

  “Randi,” T says in a tone that makes me brace myself for something I know I won't like. “What if you put aside the idea of helping the DOJ, buried your plan to stand up to Birmingham and Whit? Your health is priority, not them.”

  “I disagree.”

  “We don’t.”

  I shift in the seat to look over my shoulder where Trey leans against the built-in bookshelf. He's been standoffish since Kyle left that day. Since I randomly made up the cover story that Sam and I are a couple.

  “I'll be fine,” I mumble.

  “Damnit, woman,” Trey growls. “Stop being so damn stubborn.”

  “So you both think I should tuck my tail and hide, is that it?” They're right, but it's not like it's even a choice at this point. What's done is done. I have to move forward, have to keep going. Even if I do step back, the attacks, the bullying, the attempts on my life won’t stop. So would I really be safer doing nothing?

  “Yes,” they say in unison.

  I shake my head. “I wish it were that easy. But it's not. You both know it's not.” Tense silence fills the library. “I don't want to be president,” I admit in an almost silent whisper. “I want Kyle and Shawn to pay for everything they've done to me, what they're doing to the American citizens, but….”

  “Mess,” Trey says with an exhaustion-laced sigh. “That's part of it. If you want to continue down this path, if you want to help the DOJ, that will be the end result.”

  “I know. Doesn't mean I have to like it.” Resting my hands in my lap, I fidget with the tissue still wrapped around my thumb. “I'll do what I have to do. I always have, always will. Just because I'm nervous as hell doesn't mean I shouldn't keep going. If I thought that way, I'd be stuck in my hometown following in Mom's staggering footsteps. Just because something is challenging and overwhelming at first doesn't mean it should stop you from trying.”

  “Then suck it up and accept it,” T adds. Shifting my gaze to where he sits by the door, I watch as he scrubs a hand over his bald head. “You can't keep living like this.”

  “Tied up in knots?” I say with a forced laugh. “I need a plan. I know what I want, but how do I get there? I've bought us a little time with the lie about Sam, but now what? Maybe once I know how to meet my goal, I'll relax. I just need a plan.”

  Maybe if I say it one more time, I’ll believe it.

  A hard knock against the closed library doors beats through the large room. Hands on his knees, T pushes to a standing position with a groan. His broad shoulders rise and fall as he circles them forward and backward like he's trying to ease the stress tightening the muscles. Massive hand on the doorknob, he pulls it open wide and waves the other hand toward me.

  “Washington,” Sam murmurs as he passes T. His bright eyes scan the room. “Benson,” he grumbles with a hint of annoyance.

  “Pierce.” There's no mistaking the tension clipping the single word.

  Finally, Sam's piercing green eyes slide to me. “Randi.” Silence fills the room as he waits by the door. “You wanted to see me?”

  I nod.

  “You okay?” he asks, taking a tentative step deeper into the room. “You look….”

  “Like I was poisoned three weeks ago?” I force a smile to lighten the weight of my words. “Yeah, I know. Come on in. We need to talk.”

  Lips pursed, Sam attempts to suppress a smile. “Never a good sign when a woman says those words. From my experience, that is.” The clicking of his dress shoes against the hardwood floor goes silent as he steps onto the area rug. I motion to the chair beside me, requesting him to take a seat. His features harden, closing me off from reading his emotions as he folds down into the chair and leans forward, closing the distance between us.

  “You're backing out,” he grits out as a statement, not a question. The muscle along his square jaw twitches like he's grinding his teeth. “Listen, I don't blame you after—”

  I hold up a hand, cutting him off. “The opposite, actually.” Relief sinks in at the steadiness of my hand as I reach for the water bottle, proving the earlier panic attack is easing. Yep, panic attack, because I’m not going to dwell on the thought it could be something more sinister. Taking a deep breath, I hold it until it burns before letting it out slowly. “Kyle stopped by last week.”

  Both brows climb up Sam’s forehead. Sweeping my gaze over his cropped black hair down to his clean-shaven jaw, I take in his hard features. Handsome yet stern. The overall look, bad boy in a nice suit, works for him. A little too well. The humor dancing behind his eyes hints that he knows exactly what I was doing.

  Clearing my throat, I swing my focus to my hands clasped in my lap, thumb still wrapped in the blood-dotted tissue.

  “And?” he asks, encouraging me to continue. I decide to overlook the smile in his tone.

  “He knew you and I met more than once.” Sneaking a peek through my lashes, I find Sam studying me, the earlier bit of humor gone.

  “How?” he demands. Inching forward, he perches on the edge of his seat. I seal my back against the chair, trying to maintain my personal space.

  “There’s an unknown individual on the protection team who’s leaking details of her comings and goings, and other details as well. We thought the informant was just working with… well, someone else, but this person could also be giving the information to Birmingham,” Trey says.

  A chill slides down my sticky neck
at the closeness of his voice. Everything in me twitches to turn and tug him close. I'm near desperate for his comforting touch that's been lacking the past week.

  “We're handing it,” I say, cutting Sam off when he opens his mouth, frustration clearly written across his features. “I didn't ask you here to discuss that issue.”

  “Then what?” he practically snaps.

  “Watch your tone,” Trey bites back.

  Sam lets out an exaggerated laugh. “You and your fucked-up team have now jeopardized the entire case, and you want me to watch my tone?”

  “She's still the VP. Talk to her with the respect she deserves.”

  “Trey,” I groan.

  Sam looks from me to the man hovering over my shoulder and back again. “Oh, hell. You two are….” His green gaze slices through me. I shrink back deeper into the chair. “Forget it, Randi.” Fingers gripped around the armrest, Sam pushes out of the chair so hard it tips on its back legs from the force. “I'm not getting into the middle of this. I've worked my damn ass off to get this AAG spot, and I sure as hell won't let the shit storm you two are creating take me down with you. I'll get the information I need on my own.”

  “Sam,” I beg. Before he can step away, I lunge forward and wrap my fingers around his wrist. “It's too late for that.”

  “What?” he growls as he turns back to me, every muscle taut like he’s ready for a fight. “What the hell did you do?”

  “I panicked.”

  “What the fuck did you do?” he shouts.

  I wince. “Can you please sit back down and I’ll explain. This is not going as planned.”

  “How else did you think I'd react to you fucking me over?” he roars, tossing his arms out to the side.

  Trey maneuvers between us, placing his tight ass right at my eye level.

  Sam's words finally click. I tilt around Trey’s shoulders and look up at the now fuming Sam. “What are you talking about?”

  “You sold me out. You told that fucker what we're—”

  “Whoa there, cowboy.” I push out of the chair and step around Trey, who moves with me, cutting off my path to Sam. “I didn't sell you out. I was forced to concoct an excuse—on the fly, mind you—for why you've been coming around so much and why we nearly traveled to a different state for a damn run.”