Power Twist: Power Play Series Book 2

by Mitchell, Kennedy L.

  “I will stop this,” I rasp, my throat raw. Hands against the wall, I use it as support to stand. “You two are delusional if you think anyone will agree with you.” I shoot daggers across the room at the two bastards. “I'll take it to the Supreme Court.”

  Kyle tilts his head and smiles. “If you weren't so dense, you might be pretty.” He clicks his tongue and saunters around the desk before sliding into the sizeable leather chair. “I have the votes. I even own the superior minds of the Supreme Court. When you've been in this city long enough, you know everyone’s secrets. And that, Walmart, is where true power lies.” Steepling his fingers, he presses the point into the dimple of his chin. “And thanks to you, I'm now in a position to wield said power to get what I want. And what I want most of all is you gone.”

  “No.” I shove off the wall, my trembling legs barely holding my weight as I advance toward Kyle. “I'll get the votes to stop this.” The conviction in my strong voice surprises even me.

  “Let's make it a deal, shall we?” He straightens the cuffs beneath his suit jacket, tugging on the glittering cufflinks. “If you get the votes—which, let’s be honest, won’t happen—not only will you stop the bill from passing into law, but I give you my promise to never bring it up again. Plus, I’ll leave you alone the next four years, allowing you to focus on whatever you desire.”

  “And if I don't?” The words are like sand in my parched throat. I won’t let the bill pass, but I need to know the terms I’m sealing my fate to.

  “Ah, if you don't get the votes and the bill passes the House and Senate, then you'll be labeled the failure everyone knew you'd become. You'll tuck your tail and scurry back to that rat nest you call home.”

  All words leave my brain. I simply stare at him, mouth gaping like an idiot.

  His white veneers shine as a smile splits his face. “Those are the terms. Yes or no?”

  Still unable to form words, I nod in agreement. What choice do I have?

  With a dismissive wave, he reaches for the phone. “Oh, and Walmart?” he says, the receiver now inches from his face. “Get with Todd. I need you with him the next few months at the various summits I’m unable to attend with him.”

  Why in the hell would he partner me with the Secretary of State? Unless… oh hell no. Of course, part of his evil plan is to take me out of the country so I can’t be in DC rounding up the votes I’ll need to ensure the bill doesn’t pass. Deceitful brilliant prick.

  For the first time since we won, a sense of unease sweeps in, making me question if I made the right choice all those months ago. I got what I wanted—debt free and a chance to prove to everyone back home that I’m not a failure, not just an addict’s daughter. But at what cost?

  “Don't look so surprised,” Shawn says with a chuckle as he brushes some invisible lint off his suit jacket. “You know we fight dirty. Speaking of which, I’d be careful in your travels. It’s a dangerous world out there. You never know who's watching.”

  * * *

  I storm up the snow-cleared and salted walkway to the house. Beta team agents rush to keep up with my hurried strides. Grumbling a string of curse words, I march up the porch steps, causing the wood to rattle and groan. Eyes wild, anger rising, I shove open the front door. It pounds against the stopper before bouncing back, nearly hitting me in the side as I stomp into the house.

  My heels skid to a stop on the polished cherry hardwood floor. My ragged breaths draw up in a quick surprised gasp as I take in the man standing in middle of the foyer. Dark jeans, black motorcycle boots, and leather jacket, he’s the most delicious-looking bad boy I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  “Bad day, Mess?” Trey's signature smirk falters as he scans me from head to toe, pausing on my raw neck. “What did that bastard do to you?”

  I take a careful step backward at the menace in his tone only to slam into a solid chest of muscle. A hand encircles my bicep, holding me tight. I turn, looking up at the beta agent whose eyes are locked on Trey's.

  “What are you doing here, Benson?” he grunts. The grip on my arm tightens. After this morning’s encounter, my skittish heart races with panic. I yank my arm, desperate to be released from his hold.

  “Step back, Roger.” My head whips toward the library door at T's deep baritone voice. “We're here as friends today, not stepping on your toes.” T's dark brown gaze zeroes in on where the Roger guy’s hand grips my bicep. “Come on, Randi,” he says with a wave into the library, his eyes softening when they meet mine. “Let's hear about this first day of yours.”

  All the anger and pent-up rage recedes from my tense muscles, leaving behind utter fatigue. I step closer to Trey as I loosen the sash of my soft gray cashmere coat. “You're here,” I say, unbelieving. My gaze shifts between my two friends. “You're both here.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. Now come on, Mess, let's go have a more private chat.”

  Without waiting for a response, Trey spins on his heels and strides into the library. My attention falls to his firm ass as he walks away. He really shouldn't be allowed to wear jeans around me. Not that slacks are better, but then that would mean no pants at all, and that's an even worse idea.

  I let out a tight breath and look to the ceiling.

  Get your shit under control, Randi.

  Once we’re all inside the library, T quietly closes the newer-looking double glass doors behind him. Across the room, Trey leans against a window, focused on the winter wonderland that settled over DC last night. The snow is beautiful, making everything it touches glisten in the sun, but I’m not a fan of the stupid bitter-ass cold that accompanies it. I predict I’ll never grow accustomed to the north's version of winter. At this rate, I might never be warm again.

  Trey’s honey brown eyes slide from the white scenery to meet mine. My breath catches and my stomach tenses with the intensity I find. Shrugging out of the coat, I break his stare to lay it over the back of a padded leather armchair. I have to stop letting my body react to his presence. We’re friends now, nothing more. He's made that clear, being hands off and distant the past two months. There’s a line in the sand—or snow, rather—now.

  Friends.

  Just friends.

  No matter how much I hate it.

  Chapter Three

  Trey

  Muscles tense, rage at the boiling point, I stare out at the snow-doused lawn, hoping the serenity will calm me.

  It doesn’t do shit.

  I shift my weight, fighting the urge to glance at the beauty only yards from where I stand. But I can't. If I see those distinct red marks around her neck again, there isn’t anyone who will stop me from racing out of here to murder that fucker Kyle Birmingham. My fingers tighten into fists, my blunt nails digging into the skin of my palm. But I relish the prick of pain. It centers me, grounds me to the present, calming my heavy breaths. Keeping me from doing something I'll regret, like tugging her close to wrap my arms around her and never letting go.

  That's a lie. I wouldn't regret it, but yet I would. I love this job, love working with my best friend and the other boys. But I also grieve her touch, her laugh and smile that only I can conjure. Every day since we ended, being near her but staying away, has been torture. Everything about her makes me weak, urges me to say fuck it all and devour her whole no matter the consequences.

  I close my eyes and massage the bridge of my nose, hoping to alleviate the initial tingles of a headache. She needs me, and here I am reminiscing and brooding. Get your fucking shit together, Benson.

  “What happened, Mess?” I ask, finally gaining the courage to look her way again. I curse at the glistening of her eyes. “Talk. Now.” Yeah, I'm being rough, but what else is there to be? I can't hold her, can't comfort her. I'm fighting all the shit I want to do, which leaves me fighting a fucking never-ending battle inside my head.

  I couldn't bring her into my family unaware of the shit show we are, couldn't do that to her career or mine. It's fine. We're fine. We can keep doing this 'we're just friends' dan
ce for the next four years, then act. If she still wants me by then.

  I wince and rub a fist against my chest right above my heart.

  Fuck, this hurts.

  Tank eases her into one of the chairs and drags the matching leather armchair directly in front of hers. My attention locks on where their knees touch. My skin flashing hot, I take a menacing step closer, ready to do whatever it takes to break the contact.

  “Stand down, Playboy,” Tank grumbles, his dark eyes locked on me. He turns back to Randi, his features softening. “Go on, Randi. What happened? You're killing us here.”

  She nods, looking everywhere other than me. I swallow back the hurt her avoidance triggers.

  “Kyle's proposing a change to the voting law. One that will prevent anyone below a certain yearly income level the right to vote. Taking away their fucking constitutional right to vote on who will lead this motherfucking country because of their financial status.” Her voice rises with every word, ending in a high-pitched panic tone. I turn from the window as she shoots from the chair. Using the backrest as support, she reaches down to yank off a black heel and chucks it across the room with a scream of rage. “That motherfucking cuntcake.” She yells again, repeating the process with the other shoe. “He fucking used me!”

  Randi steps toward the desk, Tank’s fingers barely grazing her wrist in an attempt to stop her. She lays her forearms on the shiny dark wood, ready to demolish the stacks of folders and papers on top.

  “Randi, stop.”

  She stands tall, her hazel eyes locked with mine. Her chest heaves at a rapid pace while a bright red flush stains her cheeks and chest.

  “I did this,” she whispers, never breaking my stare. She jams her finger into her breast. “I allowed this. I let my stupid wants get in the way. I should've seen it, should've seen his evil plan and stopped it then.” My feet move on their own accord, stepping closer. Randi's head dips, her arms wrapping around herself. “I am his pawn like everyone knows I am. I let this happen. It's all my fault.”

  Before I can comfort her, Tank's there, standing between us. His massive hands rest on Randi's slim shoulders and give her a little shake, drawing her eyes up to meet his.

  “If you believe that, then you are an idiot.”

  She blanches.

  “Watch it, Tank,” I nearly growl. I can't take him, but I'll fight to the death against the person who put that hurt look on her face.

  He shrugs me off, keeping his focus solely on her. “What I'm saying is this isn't your fault. You had no idea this was the first thing that bastard Birmingham would attempt to push through.”

  “I should've seen it.” She shakes her head.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I say. Her wet eyes snap to mine and narrow. “What's done is done. Now we stop it.” Something like hope flashes across her face, her dark brown brows rising a fraction. “He can't just write a law. He has to get it pushed through the House and the Senate.” I smirk and reach over Tank to push her shoulder. “You're over the Senate, remember? You have sway there.”

  “But I don't. I don't know anyone in this town, and even if I did, I'm hated because of my background, because of where I come from. No one will side with me just because it’ll make them look bad. He knows it too. The man practically begged me to try and stop this from happening. Probably just wants to sit back and watch me fail.”

  Her broken spirit shreds my soul. Turning on my heels, I pace the length of the office.

  “What else did he say?”

  “That this city is built on secrets and secrets are power, something like that,” she grumbles.

  With a small smile to Tank, she pats him on the shoulder and bends over to pick up her shoes. Her round ass presses against the dark fitted fabric of her dress pants, snagging my full attention.

  “Benson.” Tank snaps his fingers in my face. “Focus.”

  Dragging my hooded eyes from the ass I want to grab, I cock a dark brow at my best friend. “Oh I am,” I say with a smirk.

  “I swear,” he grumbles and sits in the chair once again. Leaning forward, he clasps his hands between his legs and rests his elbows on his large thighs. “That means one of two things: bribery or blackmail. I'm going with blackmail. There's no way he'd pull enough votes for something like this without it.”

  “So where does that leave us?” Absentmindedly, she gently wraps her hand around her throat, caressing the marked skin. I want to know what happened—no, I need to know—but not now. Now we focus on the issue at hand; then I get the details of who laid their hands on my girl.

  My girl.

  Right.

  Unfortunately, she's not my anything except the one I can't have.

  “We get the votes we need to make sure it doesn't get through the Senate,” I say, starting to pace again. “We’ll meet with everyone if we have to—”

  Her cackling laugh cuts me off. Brows raised, I look over my shoulder to her.

  “Oh, wouldn't that be nice? But you see, that's another piece of his brilliant plan. He wants me with the secretary of state, and you know what that means.”

  Both Tank and I curse.

  The man is brilliant, I'll give him that.

  “You'll have to figure it out, Randi,” I say, my tone harsh. “Find someone here who can talk to the various senators while you're traveling. You can't lose momentum once you gain it. It's crucial to make people get behind you when they think everyone else is.”

  “Or,” she says, her tone hopeful, “would your parents be open to helping?”

  I hold a breath and shake my head, preparing for her disappointment. “My parents would never use their pull to help sway a vote like this. They're too selfish to rock the political party yacht they've coasted on the past few decades.”

  Her shoulders round in defeat.

  “We'll get the votes, Randi.” If only I could hold her, whisper in her ear, bury my nose in her hair, I could tell her that it’ll all be okay, that we’ll figure it out.

  She rubs a few fingers across her forehead. “Worst first day in the history of first days,” she grumbles. A hint of a smile tugs at her lips, making an ounce of the heavy weight lift from my shoulders. “I told y'all I would keep this interesting.”

  Tank laughs and slaps the tops of his thighs before standing. “Yeah you did, Randi. But next time, how about less of the dramatics?”

  A true smile forms, parting her pink lips. “Come on now, T, where's the fun in that?”

  * * *

  The wooden door thumps beneath the tap of my knuckle. Dropping my hand, I step back from the door and tuck both hands into the back pockets of my jeans as I wait. A bump from the other side and the soft padding of feet against the carpet grow closer before the door tugs open an inch.

  I grin. Hair wrapped in some kind of towel turban, clean face, thick-framed glasses—this is my Randi. I've never seen anyone more beautiful and adorable. This version of her makes me want to cuddle her close while fucking her from behind. An odd mix of wanting to comfort and possess her all at the same time.

  “Yeah?” she questions. Pulling the door open wider, she keeps her body tucked behind it.

  Hmm, what is she hiding? I lick my lips and take a step forward, pushing the door open a little farther with the toe of my boot. Ever since she stepped out of the library two hours ago, I've died a little inside waiting to see her again, to ask her what really happened in the Oval Office earlier. I know she left chunks of the ordeal out when it was the three of us; hopefully she'll trust me enough to tell the truth, all of it, just her and me.

  “We finished talking with the beta team, going over a few things for the upcoming change in travel schedule, and I wanted to say bye before I left.” I shrug, acting like this isn't a big deal. She doesn't need to know the massive fight Tank and I got in just before I stormed up the stairs. Randi doesn't need that kind of pressure. It's not her fault I can't stay away.

  I've stayed true to my word though and kept my hands off. Hands off her, that is. My
hands have been all over my dick every night I'm forced to go home alone after being with her all day. How could I not? I know what those lips feel like on my skin, around my cock. Know what she sounds like when I hit her deep in just the right spot.

  I grunt and adjust my stance to cover my stiffening dick.

  “Okay,” she says, drawing out the last syllable. “Bye, then. See you tomorrow.”

  “What really happened today, Randi?” I blurt. The door starts to close, but I tuck my foot farther between it and the doorjamb, keeping it open. “I just need to know. Please,” I beg, staring at her neck. The faint red lines from earlier have turned a dark gray. “Tell me,” I grit out.

  With an exasperated sigh, she pulls the door open wide and gestures for me to come in.

  “You're not going to like it,” she chastises.

  “Tell me anyway.” Out of habit, I secure the room, checking every shadowed corner and closet before leaning back against the wall and crossing both arms over my chest. “Out with it, Mess.”

  “Fine.” Cinching the belt of the terry cloth robe tighter, she rests on the edge of the bed and sighs. Like earlier, her hand comes up to her neck, two fingers tracing along the faint bruises. “When the voting law was brought up, I might have reacted… badly.”

  “There's nothing that would've ever warranted that,” I say with a pointed nod toward her neck.

  She shrinks back, her gaze slipping to the floor. “I threw a full mug of coffee at his feet with about five other people in the room and might have lunged at him intending violence while yelling several unfavorable words in there too.”

  The crack in her voice and softness in her tone break me. Before I know what I'm doing, I'm in front of her, fingers under her chin tilting that beautiful face up to meet mine.

  “Nothing, and I mean nothing warrants violence toward a woman.”

  I see the wheels turning in her mind, her eyes searching mine just before her lips turn up. “What about Lorena Bobbitt? She cut a guy’s dick off. Pretty sure he was pissed when that happened. I’m sure in every man’s mind dick chopping warrants a violent response.”