Power Switch: Power Play Series Book 3

by Mitchell, Kennedy L.

  “And what did you come up with, Randi?” Chest heaving, Sam steps around the coffee table, putting him in Trey’s personal space. The three of us stand crowded in the tight four-foot area.

  Terrible idea, Sam.

  “Trey, please move,” I say on a slow exhale while rubbing my temples. “You know he won’t hurt me. Just let us talk without you acting as a wall.”

  Trey doesn't shift even a centimeter.

  I press a reassuring hand between his shoulder blades. “He and I have to talk this through, and we can’t with you standing here.”

  A jagged fracture bolts through my heart as Trey shrugs off my touch and steps around the chairs. Without another word, he positions himself along the bookshelf once again, his eyes never meeting mine.

  “What did you tell him, Randi?” Sam says behind me. “Worry about your personal life later. Tell me what the hell is going on.”

  “I told him we're together.” My shoulders rise in a half shrug, half cringe. “That’s the excuse for why you've been coming over. I reassured Kyle that I wasn't helping you in the investigation, that I wasn't that dumb to go against him, and you and I are… well, intimate.”

  “And he believed it.”

  Exhaustion swoops in, draining the minuscule amount of energy I had left. Falling into the chair, I rest my head back and close my eyes. “No, not at first, and not really by the time he left. But I think I bought us time. Plus, he said he'd think of some way for me to prove my loyalty of sorts.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  I chuckle a fake laugh. “No joke. But at least it got him off my ass for a while and out the door. I was in shock when he showed up unannounced, and then he knew everything about you coming over, the run, the additional meetings. Listen, I'm sorry I said it without consulting with you first, but I had no choice. I don't even know if you have a girlfriend. Or boyfriend for that matter.” The last few words come at as more a grumble.

  “Girlfriend.”

  “Oh,” I say, unsure why I’m so disappointed.

  “No, you misunderstood. I'm not saying I have one at the moment. I'm saying it would be the girlfriend, not the boyfriend. I'm not gay.”

  I open one eye, relief setting in at the smile he's trying to fight.

  “Oh, okay. That's good, I guess.”

  “If we're supposed to be together, then yeah, it's a good thing. So what’s the plan now that Birmingham thinks we’re together?”

  My hand lifts halfway to my mouth before I think better of it and tuck both hands beneath my thighs. “I haven’t actually gotten that far. I was hoping you could help with that.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  Sam groans and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, at least you bought us some time with him. Maybe if we go through with the charade, make him believe we’re together, then you can still work your angle on gaining inside information for the investigation. This could work.” Stepping around the chair, he moves to perch on the edge of the desk. Fingers wrapped around the dark wood, he flicks a glance to Trey. “And how do you feel about this? Anyone can see there’s something going on between you two.”

  The soft material of my black slacks slides along the worn leather cushion of the chair as I turn to gauge Trey's response. Hands shoved into the pockets of his navy pants, shoulders against the hard spines of the endless hardback books, Trey keeps his focus on the opposite wall.

  “It's fine.”

  “Wait.” Sam leans back, eyeing him. “Didn't I read something about you being engaged?”

  Trey dips his chin in a clipped nod.

  “Oh fuck, Randi. What have you pulled me into? You made me out to be your fake boyfriend while you're screwing around with some other woman's fiancé? Hell no, I will not be made to look like a fool. I’ll find some other way to get the information we need.”

  I remain silent. What is there to say back?

  There are too many balls in the air, too many lies I'm juggling, and here I go adding Sam into the mix. I'd probably be pissed at me too.

  “We're over.” Trey's words, the uncaring tone with which he says them, are like a knife to my soul. I hold in the whimpering gasp, my shock and hurt. Still, Trey doesn't look my way. “Nothing to worry about, if you want to keep Randi in on whatever you need her help with.”

  “A little overprotective for it being over between you, don't you think?”

  I feel Sam's gaze burning the back of my neck, but I don’t look away from Trey.

  “It's my job. It's all it's ever been, just with side benefits.” Trey's unfeeling gaze slides over me before meeting Sam's. “Have you seen my fiancée?” He smirks. “Why would I want to mess that up?”

  T coughs from the corner of the room. “Benson, a word.”

  Without another glance, Trey stands straight without removing either hand from his front pockets and strides across the room. T whispers something to Trey, who nods and then leaves.

  “Is it really over, Randi?” Sam asks.

  Tearing my wet eyes from the empty door, I wipe the corners with the back of my hand.

  “It’s complicated, let’s say that. But it's fine. I'm fine.”

  “Say it one more time and I might believe you.”

  “Trey’s one piece in this damn game I’m forced to play for this role. Honestly, I can't tell if I'm winning or losing any more.” My voice cracks with the lump of emotion clogging my throat.

  “You won't know until the end of the game.”

  “And when's that?”

  “When Birmingham is impeached and you're sworn in as president.”

  “It won't stop there.” I know it won’t. This is only the beginning. The storm before the tornado. I hope I survive the damage once it's all done.

  Damp lashes flutter as I try to keep the remaining unshed tears at bay. “So what can we do now with this new kink in the plan? I need something to focus on. A plan of action that I can follow. It needs to be more than me trying to overhear conversations, because that won’t happen. Kyle's a manipulating prick, but he's smart. Too smart.”

  Sam leans back on the desk, supporting himself by hanging on to the hard edge with a tight grip. “So you're my girlfriend now, huh?” A devious smile spreads across his face. Something about it urges me to smile back. “Not a hardship to endure, I’ll give you that. But I won't be made a fool, Randi. If we're going to pretend to do this, then I need you to keep your distance with that agent and anyone else. It doesn’t seem like you're too concerned with your reputation in this town, but I am. I won't look like the idiot who doesn’t know his girlfriend is sneaking around behind his back again.”

  “Again?” The word’s out into the world before I can stop it. I snap my mouth shut hoping he didn’t hear me. But I am curious.

  “I’ve been burned in the past. Let’s leave it at that. Getting to my role as AAG took a lot of long hours. Hours away from home. Hours your wife is filling with one of your old business partners while everyone else knows but has too much pity to tell you to your face.”

  “Wow,” I breathe. “That’s… she sounds terrible.”

  Sam laughs. Inhaling deep, he leans forward and drops his head. “You being with that agent is a bad idea, Randi, for a lot of reasons. If that gets out, your political career could be over. Think about what the media will spin. Making it seem like you’re doing nothing in your role here except sleeping around with the entire team.”

  “It’s just—”

  “That’s not what they’ll spin. I’m not here to tell you how to live your life or what you should or shouldn’t do. But if we figure out a plan, a plan that keeps me as your boyfriend, then I’m asking you to lie low. You have someone in your group who can out us fast if they see you with someone other than me. I can’t go through that kind of humiliation again.”

  I nibble on my pinkie nail, debating what to tell him. What good would come from telling him the truth about everything? From Trey and Jessica's fake engag
ement, which she seems to now think is real, to me partnering with his mom. Oh, and being besties with the Russian president. None of that matters right now, which means none of it would keep me from being hands-off with Trey. At least until this whole mess is done.

  “Things aren’t what they seem,” I say around my finger. Let’s see how Sam likes the ambiguous lawyer talk. “I might have a way to get the information we need, but it’s not the most legal of strategies.”

  Sam tilts his head, his gaze slowly assessing. “I don’t like the sound of that. Would it hold up in court?”

  I laugh and swipe my hand down my thighs. “Absolutely not.”

  “Then we figure out a more legal avenue first. If worse comes to worst, we’ll use whatever connections you have, but until then, I want something we can present to the attorney general.” The light reflects off his dark shiny hair as he stretches his neck. Reaching up, he massages the tight muscles while he stares at the floor. “I think we can use the couple story to our advantage.”

  “And how will we do that?”

  “You’re invited to all the galas and parties in this town because of your title.”

  “And because they know I won’t go.”

  “We’re changing that. With you, I have an invitation to the functions I’ve never been able to infiltrate before.”

  “You don’t get invited?” I ask, surprised. With the way he looks, I figured everyone would be lining up to have him as eye candy at their party.

  “I don’t come from the type of family people want to associate with. Plus, no one likes attorneys, remember? This could be my way to listen in on conversations, pick up on connections and relationships. Maybe all I need is to find a few key members, connect them, and the rest will become clear.”

  “I hate getting dressed up,” I whine, crossing my arms over my chest. The snug dress shirt tightens around my shoulders and elbows, restricting some of my movement. Shifting in the seat to get comfortable, I roll my shoulders, trying to loosen the tight material.

  “You're either one of them or no one. Haven't you learned that yet?”

  I lift a single shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “Yeah, but I don't want to be one of them. That's the point of not going.”

  A groan passes his lips, drawing my attention to them. “It's just like this fake relationship you've created. Create a fake Randi. I hate them too, but I’m willing to go if it means we gain information on the oil scheme Birmingham has going on. You don't have to like it, but to get anything done in this town, you have to pretend everyone is your friend.”

  I huff in acknowledgment. Little does he know I already have fake Randi down pat. Between dealing with Kyle and Trey's mom, I've gotten pretty good at playing the game. At being the woman I've never wanted to become.

  “Next week.”

  “Huh?” I respond, still lost in my own thoughts.

  “There’s a function next week at the White House. Some type of party welcoming several of the Middle East leaders as they converge to discuss the oil issue.” Sam's green eyes narrow. “I need you to make sure you get an invite.”

  “Are you sure—”

  “He's taking all this too far. Birmingham knows he's the cause of this mess, yet he’s purposefully dragging other countries into this shit to cover his own ass. We need information, any information to add to the case we’re building, before it's too late.”

  “Fine,” I grumble, letting him hear the disdain in my voice.

  “You wanted a plan. First step in this plan is to do something. And that something is attending these functions and galas as a couple, giving me access to a world I wouldn’t even be able to sniff at without your name tied to mine.” With a flick of his wrist, he checks his watch and slides off the desk. “Sorry, but I have another meeting I need to get to. Let me know when you get us on the list and what others you can score for the next month or so.”

  Sam pauses in front of my chair, the toes of his dress shoes touching the points of my pumps. “See you later, honey.”

  His light chuckle follows him through the library and out the doors.

  “He’s not going to like this, Randi.”

  I startle, shifting quickly in the chair to face the deep voice. Hand scrubbing the top of his shiny bald head, T stares at the floor.

  “We don’t have a choice,” I say a bit defensively.

  “Sure you do, but for some reason, you and that idiot Benson keep making the wrong ones. The lies are stacking up, Randi. What will you do when one card slips and the whole damn house comes falling down?”

  I don’t respond. There’s really nothing to say back to that.

  “I’ll go get, Benson.”

  For several moments, I wait in the silence, gathering my thoughts and courage, dreading what needs to happen next.

  Trey will understand that we need to keep our distance while I play the fake girlfriend, attending every fancy-ass party this city has to offer with Sam on my arm, right?

  Well, when I put it like that….

  11

  Trey

  Do not shoot him.

  Do not shoot him.

  Do not shoot him.

  I don't pause the calming mantra until the dickwad is out the door and his pounding steps down the front porch stairs are no longer audible. Still, I allow a few additional seconds before sliding my tight fists from the silk-lined pockets of my custom-tailored slacks.

  The tendons and muscles in my fingers protest as I flex them wide, stretching out the tightness from holding a knuckle-cracking fist for too long. It was the only way I could hold the involuntary reflexes at bay to reach out and strangle the man encroaching on my girl.

  My girl.

  Hanging my head, I massage the back of my neck, hoping to ease the building tension making it stiff and sore.

  We're in the middle of a shit circus caused by our own doing with no way out. We’d both love to shed the fake lives we've crafted to survive in this political power game, but that won’t happen anytime soon. The one bright spot in my day, the one part of this craziness I look forward to, is our time here at One Observatory. Our alone time, the stolen moments when I’m on shift or the hours together when I’m not, are what’s driving me to see this through.

  If I didn't have those stolen moments with her, the daily reminder of what I’m fighting for, this game we’re playing against the world would break me. Break the resolve we made to do whatever it takes to get through the next three years with her political career and life intact.

  “She wants to talk to you,” Tank says with a sigh. “I told you two this would end badly. Now I'm forced to play damn mediator.”

  I furrow my brows in confusion. End? Maybe he's referring to the less-than-pleasant remark I made in the library about Jessica or how Randi I were done. But that was me playing my part for the dipshit AAG, keeping up the façade we’ve carefully constructed to appease my mother and make sure Sam keeps Randi on the inside of the investigation. Randi knows none of what I said was true. No doubt the words stung like hell; hers did that day with Birmingham in the living room. I thought I’ve felt pain before, but nothing compares to hearing the woman who holds your heart talking about how attractive another man is to her.

  Holding Tank’s unforgiving stare, I squeeze between the small space he’s left between his broad shoulders and the doorframe.

  “Do not make a scene,” he mutters under his breath as I move past. “Your actions reflect on the team, and I will not have us sidelined again because of your hot head.”

  I send him a wink over my shoulder. “Ten-four, buddy. Don't worry though, we're good. It’s all just part of the game we’re forced to play. You know that.”

  A flash of what appears to be fear passes across his dark gaze before he breaks the connection to focus on the hardwood floor. With a few muttered curses, Tank steps out of the room and shuts the french doors with a hard pull, leaving me alone with Randi.

  Pondering Tank’s strange warning and behavior, I appr
oach the middle of the room with caution. You never know when crazy Randi might come out to play, and I sure as hell don’t want to be caught off guard when she does. But Randi doesn’t even glance in my direction as I approach the grouping of chairs where she sits. Even when I'm standing directly in front of her, she doesn't acknowledge my presence.

  “Sam's good with what I told Kyle,” she mumbles around the nail between her teeth.

  Grasping her hand, I tug until she drops it from her mouth to the chair. My knees give an audible crackle as I squat low, putting us eye to eye—if she would look at me, that is. Gripping her trembling chin, I tilt her face until those hazel eyes lock with mine. The sadness and pain swirling in them fuel my earlier anger.

  “What did that fucker do?” I demand, my grip tightening a fraction.

  “Trey.” She groans. “He didn’t do anything.”

  “Then what's wrong, Mess?” Wetness pools in her lower lids, eyelashes damp from previous tears. Dropping her chin, I run my hand through my hair and tug at the long ends. “Are you upset about what I said earlier about Jessica? You know—”

  “I love you, Trey.” Large tears slip down both cheeks that are bunched with her sad smile. “I love you so much that sometimes it physically hurts, and I shouldn’t ask you to keep doing this, but I am.”

  For one beat, my heart is so full it could burst. How long have I wanted to hear those words from her, to know she’s in as deep as I am? Only to have fear seize the next beat at the heartache dripping from her tone and choice of words, both sounding more like the ending rather than the beginning.

  “Keep doing what, Mess?” I say cautiously. Pulling back an inch, I force myself to give her space to breathe. Unlike Sam, the personal space invader.

  “Sam is okay with the fake couple angle and even has some ideas on how it could work in our favor of gathering information for the case against Kyle. But he has one request.”