Power Twist: Power Play Series Book 2

by Mitchell, Kennedy L.

“Not with him,” he snaps.

  “Then. With. Who?” I toss the file on the desk. It slides across the shiny surface before disappearing over the edge. “I have no friends in this town except you and T. All you two suggest is holing up in that damn house like I'm a prisoner. I need to get out for a few hours.”

  “Then you should've said something instead of agreeing to go on a date with that fuckstick.” He rakes his hand through his shiny hair.

  “Um, it's not a date. It's dinner,” I correct. Seriously, a date? With Todd. I don’t think so. It’s dinner between two colleagues.

  “It's a date.”

  “No it's not.”

  “Yes it is.”

  “It's fucking dinner.”

  “It's a fucking date.”

  “It isn't because I don't want to sleep with him.”

  “He does,” he says as he steps closer. Shoving my chair back, he grips the armrests, boxing me in. Leaning forward, he pauses with his nose an inch from my own. “And now he thinks you do too because you said yes.”

  “To dinner, Trey.” I fight the internal battle to reach up and cup his cheek, to draw it an inch closer and seal my lips to his. My thighs pinch together against the growing ache building at his closeness. Memories of us naked, wrapped in the other’s arms, flood through me, making heat build beneath my skin. “I don't want him. I want you,” I whisper.

  A light knock sounds from the other side of the door, causing both our heads to snap that direction. The handle angles down, and then the door opens a foot.

  “Trey? Madam VP?” a feminine voice calls out.

  Trey shoves back, keeping his heated gaze locked with mine. Pulling at one sleeve and then the other, he adjusts his suit before striding across the room to open the door. “Come on in, Jessica. She’s ready for you.” With a pointed glare over his shoulder, he adds, “We're not done with this conversation, Mess.”

  Anticipation coils in my lower belly, building on the smoldering heat he already ignited between my thighs.

  Should I be excited or worried?

  Both?

  Shrugging off the last two minutes of strangely hot angry verbal foreplay, I plaster on a fake smile, readying for the initial introductions. The smile immediately falls as the beautiful young woman strides through the door, looking confident in her thousand-dollar smile, full bouncing blonde hair, and perfect red wrap dress.

  I hate her.

  Okay, I don't hate her, but I want to, which just makes me hate myself for hating someone I don't know. Even my subconscious shakes its head, not understanding that line of thinking.

  I swipe my clammy hands down the front of my navy slacks before I stand. Careful to not trip—that would be the epitome of embarrassing in front of this woman—I round the small coffee table with an extended hand.

  “Jessica,” I say as enthusiastically as I can. Instead I sound like one of the stupid mice from Cinderella. “Please come in, and it's Randi, please.” Internally I high-five the shit out of myself for not stumbling over my words. Not that I'm attracted to her or anything, even though she does have great boobs.

  Halfway across the room, I turn with an expectant look to Trey, but his focus is on the beautiful Jessica Hawthorne. Of course it is. My heart sinks in my chest.

  A dainty hand slides into mine and gives it a hard squeeze.

  “It's a pleasure to meet the first female vice president of the United States.” She beams, still shaking my hand. Her aqua eyes are bright with excitement, highlighted by the fresh coat of red lipstick across her plump lips.

  Bet they're fake.

  Agh. I drop her hand and turn to the desk. Stop comparing yourself, Randi. Don't be a bitch just because she's prettier than you. And richer no doubt. And looks like she would fit into this role better than you.

  “Everything okay?” she asks hesitantly behind me.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I smile and nod. “Fine, just didn't expect this.” I wave a limp hand toward her. “Sorry, I shouldn't say shit like that. Shit!” I whisper-yell. “I shouldn't say shit either. Fuck.” Dammmmmmmnit.

  Both she and Trey bust out laughing.

  “Mess, you are a mess, you know that?”

  “Without question,” I mumble as I flop into the chair behind the desk, groaning at my blubbering foul mouth. “I guess I just expected… hell, I don't know what I expected.”

  Jessica shrugs, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder as she folds into one of the two chairs opposite my desk. Of course she even sits pretty. Maybe I should've paid more attention during those etiquette classes Kyle forced me to take.

  “I get it a lot,” she says with an awkward laugh. “But I will say I'll take this reaction over the typical response from congressmen and senators.”

  I arch a brow. “And that would be?”

  Jessica looks away and waves a hand in my direction. “I'm sure someone as pretty as you can guess.”

  I don't have to. I know firsthand.

  Mentally, I give myself a hard ‘wake the fuck up, you’re on the same team’ shake. Huffing a heavy breath, I shove out of the chair and stride back around the desk to pause in front of a wide-eyed Jessica.

  “Let's do this again.” My hand juts out between us. This time her grip is timid as those delicate fingers wrap around my own. “Hi, I'm Randi Sawyer, and I don't have a clue what I'm doing. I need your help whipping votes in the House and Senate to ensure the man I helped get elected into the presidential role doesn't take away the constitutional right to vote from a third of the American people.”

  A wide, true smile spreads across her face, making her look even more beautiful, but the honesty behind her eyes chases away any lingering animosity.

  “Great,” she says, dropping my hand. Tugging an iPad from her bag, she flips the cover open and rests it on top of her knees. “Then let's get started.”

  * * *

  After four hours, two Starbucks runs, and too many handfuls of chocolate-covered almonds to count, we have a plan.

  A great plan.

  “This is a fantastic start,” Jessica praises as she tucks the nearly dead iPad back into her bag. Standing, she rests both hands on her hips and arches back, twisting right and then left. “Where did Trey go?”

  Glancing up from the piece of paper I've scribbled notes all over, I scan the room and shrug. “Dunno. Maybe he got tired of being our errand boy.” I snort and go back to rereading my scribble. “He's around here somewhere.”

  “He's a good guy. You're lucky to have him on your protection team.”

  My ears perk at her new wistful tone. Peering up through my lashes, I catch her staring off into space with a sappy smile on her lips.

  “How do you two know each other?” I ask, trying to keep the eagerness—and slight desperation—from my tone. “He didn't fill me in on y'all’s history.”

  “Y'all’s,” she huffs. “I love your accent.” Um, I have an accent? “It's warm, like you.” Me. Warm? Maybe I should've drug tested her before agreeing to bring her on board to the 'save America' bandwagon. “Anyway, our parents are in the same social circles. We've been friends for, wow, a long time.” Again, her eyes glaze over as a soft sigh pushes past her lips. “He was even my escort to my debutant ball.”

  “That's a real thing?” I ask before thinking better of it. I cringe and look back down at the paper. Get your shit together, Randi. Don't go pissing off the first woman in this town who's been nice to you.

  Jessica shrugs off the comment with a soft laugh. Her thin fingers slide down her dress, straightening the bright red material. “Yeah, it's a big deal here. It marks you in the social circle. Everyone who's anyone has a blowout party trying to outdo the girl before them. It's all silly, but you know how it is.”

  “Not really,” I grumble under my breath. She's either trying to be nice and not bring up my childhood or is ignorant to my past. I'll go with being nice. “Thanks again for your help in all this. With me going across the globe with Todd, I need a constant fac
e here whipping votes our way.”

  “We'll get it done. ’Night.” Before she can grab the door handle, it swings open. “Oh,” she gasps, startling back a step. “Oh.” This time it’s breathier, less scared. “There you are. We were just wondering where you'd run off to. I was hoping to see more of you today.”

  “Were you?” he muses, those honey brown eyes finding mine from the doorway. I swallow back my reply as he turns his attention back to Jessica. “Glad you were available to help out here. I know this isn’t your normal type of gig, but your connections in this city will be a huge help.”

  Even from here there's no mistaking the bright pink glow that brightens her cheekbones. “You know I'd do anything for you, just have to ask. It was great to see you, Trey. Looking forward to seeing you around.”

  “Looking forward to seeing you around,” I mimic under my breath with a sneer. Jealousy has a funny way of making you forget the last four hours. I'm counting on this woman to help me, but I now want to punt her across the White House lawn.

  Good thing there wasn't a maturity test to land this VP gig.

  Or a psych eval.

  “What was that?” Trey says, his voice light with humor.

  “Nothing.” I clear my throat and smack the edges of the papers against the desk to straighten the stack. Tapping the phone screen, I check the time. “I'm done for the day, plus I want some downtime before dinner tonight. Let's head out in five.”

  Trey scoffs. “You're still going?”

  Rolling my eyes, I swipe my iPad and papers off the desk and shove them into my bag with more force than necessary. “Yes, I'm still going. I still need a break, and I still need real food. And wine, and a cigarette. Can we stop on the way home?”

  “No, you're trying to quit, remember?”

  Of course I fucking remember. Worst random life goal I've ever made, and I've made some pretty stupid ones. Let’s be honest here—the likelihood of me quitting smoking for good is the same as me owning that magical unicorn I always promised myself I would have as a pet.

  “Too bad unicorns aren't real.”

  “Sure they are,” he says, and I bite back a smile. He and T both just go with the flow now when it comes to my ramblings. They both know I have a zillion random conversations going on up in my head at once, and sometimes my response to those conversations becomes more vocal than imaginary. “Come on, Mess, let's get you home for your hot date.”

  “It's not a date,” I bite out as I pass by him to exit the office. “He crosses his legs.”

  “What?” Trouble's laugh echoes down the bustling hall. Every set of eyes turns toward us before focusing back on their work.

  “Nothing. Just know it's not a date, okay?” I tug my laptop bag higher up on my shoulder to keep it from slipping.

  His fingers wrap around the leather strap, carefully pulling it from my shoulder and sliding it on to his own. “Whatever you say, Mess. Just know that tonight, when it does turn out to be a date, I'm going to love telling you I told you so.”

  Biting my lip, I shake my head and start down the hall.

  Why does he have to be so adorable?

  Chapter Five

  Trey

  She's too naive for her own good. Beautiful, hilarious, but naive on the extent of corruption and depravity in this city.

  Of course it's a motherfucking date. And here I am stuck in the motherfucking shadows watching as my girl dines with a man I would kill to switch places with.

  “You're glaring again,” Tank says through the earpiece. “Do I need to put you outside?”

  “I'm not a damn puppy,” I say into the tiny mic hidden beneath my cuff.

  “Then stop acting like a lovesick one.”

  Chuckles and razzing from the other guys sound through the connection.

  “Ha, ha, ha, laugh it up, fuckers. I just don't like how close he's sitting to the VP.”

  “For reasons other than her safety,” Tank retorts, and I grumble a curse to myself. “If you can't handle this, then I'm questioning your ability to keep her safe on the road.”

  My spine stiffens at the hidden threat.

  “I'll be fine,” I snap into the mic as nonchalantly as possible. “I just don't know this guy, and it has me on edge.”

  “Stop lying to yourself,” Gremlin says over the line. “We know it. You know it. She knows it.”

  “Knows what?” I ask, curiosity lacing my words.

  “That you're fucking pussy whipped.” Gremlin cackles, and the entire team bursts out laughing.

  “Shut it down.” Tank's deep voice sobers the radio waves. “Stop being a distraction, Playboy, or you're off the team.”

  I fight the urge to throw my hands up in the air like a kid having a tantrum. “I'm not doing anything but my job. Ground the other kids, Dad, I'm innocent.” Movement at their table snags my attention. “Focus, you assholes. She's on the move.”

  Before she's fully standing, I'm at her side, fingers wrapped around the back of her chair with a death grip as I tug it away from the table.

  “It was fun,” she says, her voice tight. I hold back a knowing smile. The tension in her shoulders and the fake smile plastered across her beautiful face signal that she's aware this was a date. Can't wait to tell her ‘I told you so.’ “No,” she says in response to his request for another. “Thank you.” Her hazel eyes flick to mine. “I need to get ready for the summit. I'll be busy until then.”

  My lips tug down in a frown. Why didn't she just tell him to fuck off and not ask her out again? Instead she gave the excuse of the summit, which means he'll try again there or after.

  My mind works overtime as I scan the restaurant for threats. Gremlin tips his chin in a quick nod, signaling everything's clear from his vantage point.

  “We need to move,” I state to break up the long goodbye. We don't, but I need to get her away from this tool before she agrees to another date without realizing what she's doing.

  Fingers pressed against her lower back I urge her to move toward Gremlin.

  “Thank you again, Todd. Good night.” The last part is said over her shoulder in a rush as I pressure her into a quick pace. “Is there something going on?” Randi asks. “Hey, Grem.”

  “Ma'am.”

  I smirk at her dramatic eye roll. “Not with that shit again.”

  “We're in public, ma'am. It's protocol.”

  “I'll show T where he can shove his protocol,” she grumbles. In a flash, she grabs my wrist and yanks it up to her lips. “You hear that, T? You and I are going to have words at home.”

  A deep rumbling laugh, one I never hear on the job, vibrates down the line, tickling my ear.

  “He's looking forward to it,” I tell Randi as we pause at the doors, giving her time to slip her long wool coat on. And gloves. And scarf. “We're just walking to the Suburban.” I chuckle as I take in her over-the-top winter attire.

  “It's below thirty out there,” she says while she focuses on fastening every single button of her coat. “Texans are not made for this kind of weather, okay? I have to be fully protected or I'll turn into a damn Randi popsicle out there.”

  Without thinking, I lean close and whisper, “That’s a popsicle I’d love to lick. What flavor—” Tank's yelled promises of murder cut me short. Pulling back, I smirk down at her wide eyes. “Ready?”

  Puddles of melted snow splash under my dress shoes as we exit the building, shuffling as quickly as possible to the waiting SUV. Pausing at the open door, Randi pats Tank on the shoulder and sighs. “Don't be too hard on him,” she says, smiling back at me. “I am quite edible.” Her sinister laugh follows her as she climbs into the back seat.

  The door slams and Tank smacks his palm on the top, sending it barreling off into the night. An exact replica SUV follows close behind.

  Once the taillights have faded into the distance, Tank turns, pinning me with his intense stare.

  “What am I going to do with you?” he mutters.

  “You love me.” I slam
a fist into his shoulder. “I keep you on your toes.”

  “Can you do your job?” he asks, his eyes searching mine for the truth. “I need to know right now, Trey. Can you do this job without being distracted by her? I can tell this goes deeper than a casual fuck, which is great for my friend, but for my partner, the one watching my back, I need to know where your head is.”

  Breaking his stare, I huff, the puff of breath clouding between us. I tuck my wrist behind my back to muffle my words from the rest of the team.

  “I would rather die myself than allow anything to happen to her, or you, or the rest of the team. I can't stop being attracted to her, can't stop from wanting to be with her, but I know my limits, know when to work and when to play.” I smirk, thinking about all the things I want to ‘play’ when it comes to Randi. “She changed me, man, and I can't go back to who I was before.”

  “Good. You were a fucking spoiled-ass adolescent.”

  My brows shoot up my forehead. “Tell me how you really feel.”

  A smile pulls at his lips. “Sarah agreed to training our girl—”

  “Our?”

  “Our. You think you're the only one who cares about her? She's going to make a difference here, Playboy. I can feel it.” He looks down the street. “DC will never be the same after she's done with it.”

  * * *

  The plain white door stares back at me as I wait for it to open. This is a terrible idea, but I couldn't stop myself. Every step from my condo here, up the stairs, and now each second that ticks by as I wait, I know this will end badly. Or great, depending on which way you look at it. I see it as a good thing, but Tank might have other opinions on me coming up to Randi's room in the middle of the night when I should be home in my own bed.

  Again though, I couldn't not come.

  Seeing her with that dickstick on a date that I can't take her on messed with my head, brewed something dark deep inside me. That dark drove me here, urging me to lay claim to her, to make sure she knows she's mine even if we can't be together. It's crazy, idiotic, but it’s there, still curling and brewing in my gut.