Power Play: Power Play Series Book 1

by Mitchell, Kennedy L.

  T drops his head with a hint of a smile on his lips. “And what kind of prize were you thinking?”

  “Candy, of course.” Duh.

  “Chocolate?” His voice rises, his eyes wide.

  “Down, boy.” Trouble laughs. “This is for her, not you.”

  “You like chocolate?” I can't help my growing smile. He looks like a guy who would snack on bullets or whole turkey legs, not chocolate. “We're going to be good friends, you and I.”

  “Friends?” His eyes narrow. “We're here to protect you, not be your friends.”

  Tears well again. Fuck, why does that hurt so bad?

  “Idiot,” Trouble mutters. His heavy footsteps pause in front of my Converse. “And you're the married one. Sometimes I feel sorry for Sarah.” T grunts something in return I don't make out. “I'll take care of Hot Mess here. You go get her something to eat. It's been a while since breakfast.”

  T grumbles through his groans of pain as he stands and heads out of the room. The door softly clicks behind him.

  “Come on.” Trouble extends a hand down, wiggling his fingers in front of my face. “Get off the floor and I'll find you something better than chocolate.”

  I seal my lips to suppress my smile. The same lusty heat from earlier sweeps through my body when I slide my hand into his. One swift pull and I'm standing with one hand pressed against his chest, the other still wrapped in his. My heart pounds, pulse skyrocketing at our close proximity. Tipping my head up, I zero in on his soft, plump lower lip that begs to be nibbled on.

  Holy hell, I'm in deep shit.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Trey

  Maybe I'm the one with the concussion.

  What the hell is wrong with me? This woman is everything I've written off in life. Well, that’s not entirely true, now that I've seen the truth. Even if she's not like all the other backstabbing, opportunistic women I've known, she's still a fucking mess.

  A cute mess, if I'm honest with myself.

  Even now I should be turned off by her red-rimmed eyes, black streaks of mascara down her soft cheeks, and bright red nose. But I'm not. She's adorable, not revolting.

  This is bad news. T will have a heart attack if he even gets a whiff that I'm attracted to this woman who we're to protect with our lives. Which I will, without a doubt. Me thinking she's hot and wanting to feel that skin hidden beneath all those layers…

  Do not think about her naked.

  Do not think about her naked.

  “I need a shower to get mom’s stench off me.”

  “Not helping,” I grit out.

  “Huh?” She shrugs out of my hold leaving the sense of an empty void in her place. Thank fuck she did though, I wasn't going to let her go on my own. Her hazel eyes scan the entirety of the room. Hooking her thumb in the direction of the bathroom she says, “I'll just go—”

  “No.” There's no way I can focus on her safety with her on the other side of the door, gloriously naked and waiting for me. Maybe not that last part, but that’s where my dirty imagination will take me. I give my head a shake to pull it from the gutter. “Sit.” I point to the small sitting area on the other side of the room. “Wait until Tank comes back with the food. Until then, I promised you something to take the edge off.”

  Arms crossed across her chest, she shuffles to the low buttercream-colored armchair and ungracefully plops into it. I hold back a laugh. This woman is proving the exact opposite of who I assumed she was. It puts me on uneven footing. All the women I’ve known are perfection personified. Graceful, manipulative, delicate, and vindictive —that I know how to defend against. But this? Her?

  I pull one cabinet door open and then another before finding what I'm looking for. When I open the fridge, the cold air slides across my face feeling amazing against my heated skin. Earlier the boys turned down the air conditioning for Randi, we’ve all already picked up on her being cold natured, which means we're all roasting.

  “White or red wine?” I call out over my shoulder loud enough for her to hear across the room.

  “Tequila?”

  “Damn,” I mumble, a small smile pulling up the corners of my lips. Grabbing a small bottle of tequila, I slam the fridge door shut with a soft kick, then the cabinet. “You're a surprise at every turn, aren't you?”

  “I'm taking that as a compliment.” Our fingers graze as I hand off the tequila, shooting a bolt of want straight to my cock.

  Fuuuuck.

  A pop then crackle of the seal breaking sounds at my back as I move toward the bathroom. “You should. It's different for sure.”

  “Different how?” Her voice barely carrying over the running water wetting the cloth in my hand. After ringing it out, I step back into the bedroom and lean a shoulder against the doorframe.

  “Here.” I toss the wet rag across the room only for her to duck, a loud smack and squeak filling the room as it slides down the glass window behind her. “You were supposed to catch that.”

  “Right.” Bending over the arm of the chair, she stretches to the floor, offering a great view of her round ass. I advert my gaze, pretending I wasn’t staring when she pops back up, face flushed with the washcloth in hand. “What's this for?”

  I maneuver a finger in the air circling in the direction of her face with a cringe. “You've got….”

  A bright pink blush tints her cheeks as she dips her face to the washcloth and gives it a good scrub. “You didn't answer my question. Different how?”

  Shifting my attention to the floor as she cleans up, I say, “I was wrong about who you are. I assumed you were like every other beautiful woman in DC.”

  “Beautiful,” she says, her tone disbelieving. “And what's that?”

  “You'll find out soon enough. Being different is a good thing, Randi. Don't lose it.”

  At her silence, I look up to find her now clean face tipped up with the small bottle pressed to her lips. A loud laugh slips past before I can stop it. Still chugging the golden liquid, her eyes cut over. The plump lips wrapped around the glass twitch upward.

  “You know what? I don't think we have anything to worry about.” I'm still laughing as I squat in front of the cabinet once again and retrieve another round, this time snagging a bottle of vodka for myself. Beta team took over an hour ago, so technically I'm off the clock.

  “Catch it this time,” I say holding up the bottle with a wink.

  Her eyes narrow in concentration as she wiggles in the seat and extends both hands. “Ready.”

  “Wow.” Never in my life have I been this entertained by a woman—with her clothes, on that is. “Here it comes. Nice and slow.”

  “That's not what she said.” She chuckles to herself. “Not me, but any other she.” Her eyes flick up to mine, and I smile while shaking my head in disbelief.

  “You're kind of funny,” I say, still smiling, the tequila still gripped between two fingers not wanting to make the move to hand it over. There's something special, bonding even, in this moment I don't want to interrupt.

  “Really?” Hope and disbelief fill her voice. “Most people just think I'm crazy.”

  “Well, you're that too, but funny mostly. It's a clever funny, so I guess you have to be as smart as you to get your humor.”

  Her teeth sink into her lower lip. “I like that theory. I'll allow it.”

  “Thanks.” I chuckle. “You'd rather it be hard and fast?”

  “Sex or the bottle you're about to throw?”

  “Sex.” This is a terrible idea, but she started it. It's an excuse I can still use as an adult, right?

  “Not that I remember that well,” she mumbles. “But yeah, fast for sure. The quicker it's done the better.”

  My hand tightens around the bottle so it doesn't tumble to the floor. “I don't get that joke.”

  She tosses her head back with a laugh only to wince and grip her head between her hands. “Stop stalling and toss me that bottle. I need it.” Her movements stiffen. “Wait, you wouldn't happen to have a ciga
rette on you, would you?”

  “One of the guys might, but—”

  “Bring the bottles.” With a smile, she unfolds from the pretzel she'd scrunched into. Snatching her hat off the bad and tugging it down low, she heads to the door. “Hurry. I'm scared for my safety if this is as fast as you move.”

  Leaning against the living room door, I wait as I watch Randi shuffle around the room, asking each of the beta team agents for a smoke. A younger guy cautiously pulls a pack from his pocket and slides it into her hand. With her intentions clear, I tell one of the agents to go on ahead and secure the kitchen employee entrance. T shoots daggers from where he's sprawled out on the couch, no doubt needing a few minutes of sleep before room service arrives.

  I slide both bottles into my pockets before raising my hands palms out. “She'll be fine. I'll go down with her.”

  “That doesn't make me feel better. I’m just as concerned about you two killing each other as an outside threat.”

  Randi snorts. “Wise man, but we're good. For now. But if he does kill me, I won't hold it against you, T.”

  “Yeah, because you'll be dead.”

  “Right, so I’ll haunt him, obviously.” I laugh at the sarcastic scrunch of her tiny nose. “Come on, Trouble.”

  Tank groans. “This is a terrible idea. I'm going with you.”

  “Now you're insulting me,” I say, all humor gone. “Stay here, wait for the food. You know you ordered yourself something on the side. We're all starving.”

  “We skipped lunch,” he snaps back. Yep, the man needs to eat. No one wants to be around this guy when he's hungry and tired. Terrible combo. He's my best friend and even I don't want to be near him when he's like this.

  “Damn. That's my fault, isn't it?” Her eyes flick around the room, gauging the rest of the team. We all look worn the fuck out. It's obvious to her too, if the cringe she's sporting means anything. “When I'm stressed, I forget to eat. Old habits, I guess. How does this work? You guys eat when I eat or only when you're off?”

  “We rotate while on shift usually, but today was a—”

  “Complete mess,” Randi cuts in.

  “Anomaly.” Tank’s stress lines fade into a somewhat smile. Damn, what is it with this woman? How in the hell is she able to get to this softer side of him? “We'll figure it out, get into a routine. Now that we know you need a reminder of when to eat, that helps us. We didn't say anything today because we figured you didn't want to stop.”

  Randi shoves both hands to her hips. “Let’s set up some rules. First, if you don't know something, ask. I don't like that you guys were starving today because you didn't ask. Second, no more of this ma'am bullshit from any of you, even in public. I swear I feel the gray hairs multiplying every time one of you says it, and I already spend way too much money on covering that shit as it is. Got it?”

  Something flares in my chest at the stubborn and commanding tone in her voice. Maybe she can do the VP thing. If she can own Tank, how much harder can running the country be?

  A random thought pushes through my thoughts. What if she's this commanding in bed? My lips tug down in a frown. Hopefully not. Watching her own the room is hot as hell, but alone, I want her begging for it.

  The two of them continue the rules discussion as I walk to the door, discreetly adjusting myself to hide the semi I'm sporting. These next four years will be torture if I'm like this every time I'm near her. Good thing she's with Birmingham and the job or I’d pin her against a wall the first moment we were alone. Or even if we weren’t. Hell, that would be hot, the risk of being caught. Past girlfriends worried about their reputation or someone seeing too much to be… adventurous.

  “Ready?”

  I cut my eyes to her at the touch of humor in the single word.

  Shit, how long has she been there and I failed to notice? That's not good. If I can't keep my focus, I can't keep her safe. Which is my motherfucking job. Shit.

  I have to maintain distance whether my dick has other options or not. Her life depends on it.

  Ignoring her pointed look I shift my attention on the hallway door and yank on the handle. The two agents outside the door stiffen, assuming full alert at her presence. Both flank us down the narrow hall and into the employee elevator, which is held, waiting, by another agent.

  We stand stiff, as still as statues as the elevator descends while she shifts from one foot to the other. We’re used to this. It's what we live for. Protection, constantly on high alert. The rush you get when out in public, needing your eyes on everyone and everywhere at once, provides the perfect high for an adrenaline junkie.

  Like me.

  Humid heat assaults me as we push the kitchen's swinging doors open, and my steps falter. Sweat builds along my forehead, a light trickle already dripping down my spine. Employees perk up from their stations as we move down the line, marching toward the back door. One glaring look and the curious glances shift away, focusing back on their work.

  Good.

  They should be afraid. We're all packing multiple weapons and are proficient in multiple types of hand-to-hand combat. Of course, I hope it doesn't come down to a fight, since my fists are tender from beating the shit out of that idiot earlier. I couldn't stop myself. The second his yellowed eyes raked down Randi, the leash I keep on my self-restraint snapped. Tank was beyond pissed but didn't stop it from happening, even though I broke a very fundamental rule.

  One of the beta team agents files out the door first. Randi makes to follow, but with a hand to her waist, I tug her back to me.

  “Wait until we get the all clear,” I say into her hair. My eyes dart across the kitchen. Tension builds and my muscles tighten, readying for a fight. The agent beside me meets my gaze and nods. One hand pressed to her lower back, I push against the metal bar, releasing the latch keeping it closed.

  A cool breeze swipes across my sweaty brow, instantly calming my frazzled nerves. I fucking hate being hot. After four deployments and various other missions in the Middle East, I can't shake the automatic tension that builds, ready to snap, in a hot room. I was one of the lucky ones who came back whole, but I can't untrain my mind and body to realize I'm not in a war zone when my body temperature spikes.

  I scan the back of the building and our surroundings. Randi steps out of my reach, settling on a stack of plastic crates someone stacked together in a makeshift seat. The scratch of flint meets my ears in the otherwise silent alley. With it being dinnertime, all the employees must be inside hard at work, preparing various meals for the hotel guests. Hopefully she'll be done with this smoke break before a lull allows their own breaks. The fewer people out here the better.

  “So.” After one more scan up and down the alley, I turn my attention to her. “You bring those bottles or what?” she asks as a puff of gray smoke billows from her lips. Smoking really shouldn't be as sexy as she's making it.

  Instead of answering, I take the few steps toward her. The silk lining of my pocket slides across my knuckles as I grasp the two bottles and pull them free. Careful to not make the same mistake again, I drop the bottle in her awaiting hand, preventing any accidental skin-to-skin contact.

  I watch in fascination as she bites the end of the lit cigarette, allowing it to dangle from her mouth, to open the tequila bottle with both hands.

  “Who are you?” I ask before I can think better of it. At every turn, she's shocking me off my feet, completely disrupting everything I thought I knew about her. Hell, about women in general.

  “No one. Haven't you figured that out yet?” Anger and concern strangle my chest at the sadness in her voice. “Right place, right time. Lucky. Whore. Gold digger. Fraud.” Hazel eyes stare into my own. “Right?”

  Well, that solidifies one thing I've always thought was debatable.

  I am a complete ass.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Randi

  The smoke burns in my lungs oh so good. Damn, I missed this. The gum and other shit I've tried isn't the same. Something about being
outside, the smoke-filled inhales and exhales combined with the delicious burn stall my constant thoughts. This right here, these few minutes, I get to relax. It's few and far between on the campaign trail, and I cherish each second of calm I can steal.

  “I'm an ass,” Trouble finally says. Twisting my lips, I blow smoke out the side of my mouth to keep from sending it into his face. “I didn't… I thought I knew you.”

  “You didn't. You don't.” The glass rim of the bottle, still warm from his body heat, slips between my lips as I take a sip. “It's okay though. I'm still trying to figure out who I am, so I can't expect anyone else to figure it out before I do, you know.” I let the comfortable silence fill the calm space between us before I go on. “But I can guarantee what you see is what you get. I've always been me and have fought to accept who I am, hot mess and all.” I smirk using his words to describe me. It really is a perfect description of this life I find myself living.

  I look up at the clink of glass on glass.

  “Cheers to you being a hot mess and me being an ass, then.”

  Trouble tilts the bottle back, sucking down the entire contents. His Adam’s apple bobs with each deep swallow. I stare transfixed at the way it slides up and down tempting me to lean closer and take a nip.

  “So, now that you know I'm not who you thought I was… friends?” My pitch rises with each word. I should be embarrassed by how bad I want him to say yes, but I’m not. I'm desperate in more ways than one. If I can trust him, trust Terminator and the rest of the team, maybe I have a sliver of a hope of surviving the next few months until the general election. After… well, let's just take it one step at a time.

  “I have a friend.”

  “Oh, okay.” The slow sip of tequila slides down my throat. “But do you want another one?”

  Trouble's assessing gaze swipes up and down the alley. “Depends.”

  “On?”