Power Surge: Power Play Series Book 4

by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  Along the wall, a basic chrome and white-face clock ticks, marking the seconds turning into minutes as we hold each other in comfortable silence.

  “All right, enough of the heavy shit. What do you want to do next, Mess? We have a half hour or so before your surprise gets here.” Pulling back, he plants a hard kiss on my forehead.

  “Surprise?”

  Undiluted joy radiates from his wide smile, those fine laugh lines crinkling along the corners of his eyes turning my heart to pure jelly.

  “Honestly?” I respond with a loose breath. Straightening my spine, I attempt to search over his shoulder into the living room. “I have an idea. Where's your room?”

  Trey inclines his head toward the darkened hallway. Twisting until his back is between my knees, he rests his chin on his shoulder to gaze back at me. “Hop on, I'll give you a ride.”

  Giggling for the second time tonight, I wrap both arms around his neck and tighten the hold around his waist with my thighs as he hooks both hands beneath my knees.

  “Not so tight,” he wheezes.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, my lips pressed against the shell of his ear.

  The agents stationed around the condo track our movements, offering confused looks. My gaze connects with Agent Wright’s—huh, almost killing someone imprints the correct name in my brain, though it’s probably not a good tactic to test to learn the others’ names—his demeanor and focus stiff as he tracks our every move. We round the corner when I find Agent Ponder also watching us closely. No, not us. Trey. Intense fury blazes in his eyes, completely focused on Trey like a predator watches its prey.

  My muscles protest as I crane my neck, attempting a glimpse inside the first room he storms past. A made bed and a dresser topped with knickknacks is all I can view before we continue down the hall.

  Trey opens the next door and steps inside.

  The massive bed is familiar, along with all the other furniture from his previous condo which all seems crammed into this tiny room. There's hardly any space for someone to walk without maneuvering around something. Along the far wall, two racks of suits jut out, making movement on that side of the room impossible.

  A high-pitched shriek escapes as I free-fall to the bed. I bounce off the mattress as Trey falls backward, landing beside me on his back.

  “Now what?” His light eyes twinkle. I’ve never met someone whose eyes legit twinkle, but Trey’s do. Always when he’s up to no good, scheming to get his way or covering some mischievous shit he’s already done.

  I love it. Love him. Fuck, do I love him.

  Forgoing words, I crawl up the large bed. The feather pillow fluffs under my soft pats before I lie down, curling on my side. Extending a hand back, I pat the area directly behind me.

  “Cuddling, that’s what I want to do. You're the big spoon.” Eyes closed, I feel every jostle of the bed as he moves up it to lie beside me. Warmth radiates off him, seeping into my back as he snuggles close. A heavy arms drapes over my hip, situating our lower halves until I'm tucked as tight against him as possible. “Thank you,” I whisper, the smooth sheets brushing along my lips with the two words. “I just need a few minutes, okay?”

  “I'm here as long as you need me, Mess.”

  Several moments pass without another word. The issues of the day fall away, leaving my mind gloriously empty except for the thoughts surrounding the man behind me.

  “Trouble?” I whisper, careful to not shatter the perfectly normal moment.

  “Mess.”

  “Tell me something good.”

  “This. Right here, right now with you.”

  My cheek glides along the pillowcase as I smile. “What else?”

  “I've seen countless pieces of art in my life in museums all around the world, owned a few even. But for the first time in my life, because of you, I’m truly able to comprehend the meaning of something being priceless. That's you, Mess. One of a kind. Priceless.”

  I flip over, putting us nose to nose. I press my trembling lips to his. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “For what?” A deep line forms between his brows.

  “For reminding me of my value when I can't see it myself.”

  “Every day for the rest of my life, Randi, I'll remind you, because it would be a fucking sin for you to ever believe you're anything less.”

  A lone tear slips from the corner of my left eye and trickles down my cheek until it's absorbed by the pillowcase. I scrape the pads of my fingers over the scruff along his jawline before delving into his silky hair.

  “I love you,” I croak. A lump of restrained emotion makes the words raspy and quiet. “Today, tomorrow, the next day, and the day after that. Don't ever leave me.” His lids droop, long dark lashes fluttering closed. “I wouldn't survive it.”

  Honey brown eyes search my own. Excitement and energy roll off him in pulsing waves as he shoves an elbow into the mattress and hovers just over me. Swooping low, he steals a pulse-racing kiss before pulling back.

  “Marry me.”

  “What?” I somehow manage around the astounded shock freezing every cell in my body.

  “Marry me.” Interlacing our fingers, he brings the hand to his mouth and presses his soft lips to each knuckle. “We're stronger together, and then everyone will know you're mine. No more hiding, no sneaking around like we're doing something wrong.”

  My heart thunders against my ribs, threatening to crack bone as he anxiously waits for my answer.

  “I, um….” Too many thoughts and what-ifs barrel through. “Trouble… Trey,” I start, not knowing how to explain what I’m feeling.

  The joy drains from his face, leaving a sad, forlorn expression in its place.

  I suck in a breath, readying to defend myself and help him understand. “No, stop,” I command as he retreats back to the mattress, avoiding my attempts to snag his attention. His bicep slips from my grasp. Flopping to his back, Trey glowers at the ceiling. “Of course I want to marry you.” His eyes shifting in a side-eye stare to where I lie is the only acknowledgment that he’s listening. “But now? We've never even talked about that step. And—” I bite my lip and lock my focus on the bedside lamp as I figure out a way to word this. “—you didn't really ask me.”

  “Sure I did,” he defends.

  Shaking my head, I release a heavy sigh. “It was more of a demand than an ask.”

  “I thought you liked it when I was demanding.”

  I grimace. “Yeah I do, but this is different. And maybe I'm a traditional girl and want the whole proposal… I don't know, planned?”

  “Don't worry about it. Forget I ever said anything,” Trey grumbles, clearly upset by my lack of enthusiasm on the subject.

  “Trey, don't be that way.” Picking at a loose string on the duvet, I avoid his eyes. “And the way you put it made it sound like you were trying to stake your claim, not confessing your undying devotion to the one you want to spend your life with.”

  “You know how I feel about you,” he snaps.

  Sighing, I fall to my back and rest both palms on my stomach. “We've been through a lot the past few months, wouldn't you agree?” His grunt causes an exaggerated eye roll I know he can see. “I do want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but now? It's not the right time, and I think you know that. Deep down you know we should wait.”

  “How long, Randi?” The heaviness of his gaze weighs on me as he props back up onto his elbow, resting his head in his flattened palm. “How long do I have to wait to make you mine, for everyone to know? How long do we have to wait until we can be together forever?”

  “When I'm out of office?” An acrylic tip cracks beneath the pressure of my nibbling teeth. “Did you even stop to think about your job? How you'd have to quit to become the first husband? Then you'd have agents following you around to protect you at all times, not the other way around.”

  I squeak. The room rotates as a firm grip twists me until I'm lying on top of a solid, hot body. A tentative smile plays
at his lips, the earlier disappointment fading.

  “I don't give a fuck about that job. Once, it was all I had. Those boys were my family. But now there's you, and that's all that matters. I'll wait for you, Randi Sawyer. I'll wait until you're ready, until it's the right time, as long as you can look me in the eye right here, right now, and tell me that you will marry me one day. That one day in the near future you'll allow me the honor of being your husband.”

  “Yes.” A half laugh, half sob strangles from my chest.

  A deep booming voice reverberates down the hall and echoes in Trey’s small overstuffed room, breaking the moment.

  “T?” I rasp, still trying to wrangle my emotions.

  “You wanted something normal tonight. There's nothing more normal than hanging out with your friends, right? I texted Tank and Sarah on our way here.” Shoving off the bed, he digs both elbows into the mattress, closing the distance between our faces. His nose brushes against my own. “Come on, Mess. Shove aside the shit day and the marriage conversation I threw on you and come have a beer with me.”

  Tears leak, dripping over my bunched cheeks.

  Smiling while crying. This is a new development.

  “You know I'm a whiskey girl,” I say after clearing my throat.

  “I might have a small stash of whiskey you can sip on if you play your cards right.” Shifting, he wraps his arms around my back, sealing our chests together. “Tonight it's just us and our friends, okay? Normal.”

  I mouth the word.

  It's not the one I'd use for this moment, for the effort he put in all for me.

  No, the word I choose is…

  Perfection.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Randi

  “Thank you,” I say with a small smile to the woman as she places the edible art on the table in front of where I sit. A low grumble vibrates in my stomach at the savory smells now wafting through the large dining room. Adorning the plate is a colorful display of the most enticing array of beef, vegetables, and a type of fancy rice. “Smells delicious.”

  “Sure does.” I fight to ignore Ben’s words—mostly his overall presence—so I don’t lose my eager appetite.

  “Excuse me,” Taeler whispers, her face pale, nostrils flaring as she shoves from the long table and bolts from the room with a hand over her mouth.

  Ben frowned. “I thought that stuff ended early in pregnancy.”

  “For most, yes, but for a few unlucky ones like Tae and me when I was pregnant with her, it could last the entire pregnancy.” I struggle to keep the annoyance from my tone. Tonight was a bad night to do this. I should’ve canceled. After a long day of fixing the world’s problems—or, in some cases, adding to them—I’m in no mood to play nice with my ex. My ex who has this strange delusion that we’ll get back together at some point.

  Even now he tosses another one of those longing looks from where he sits across the ten-seat dining room table. Not once or twice but three times now, his foot has rubbed mine in a lame attempt to play footsie. To make matters worse, the alpha team is on shift tonight.

  Yep. Trey, current boyfriend and lover, has a front row seat to this shit show, and if the smoke coming from his ears is any indication to his thoughts, Ben better hope he’s still breathing by the time dessert is served.

  “Did you really? Get sick that much?”

  “Yep.” I pop the p and slice into my steak.

  “Guess I was too busy with wrestling. You remember how good I was, right? Fuck, I could’ve gone all the way.”

  “Gone all the way to where?” I question. Okay, that was a low blow, but fuck, if I have to hear this story one more time in my life, I’ll hand myself over to Whit with a damn bow tied around my neck.

  “College, Olympics, I don’t know. Somewhere,” he grumbles. “I do feel bad about all that, you know I do. But hell, we were just kids. I wasn’t ready to be a parent.”

  “And I was?” Movement in my periphery urges me to glance up from the plate, but I keep eating instead. Acknowledging Trey will only make matters worse for everyone in this room.

  “Yeah, well, women are predisposed to be ready.”

  “Please, stop while you’re ahead, Ben,” I groan. The fork clatters to the plate, and I wince at the reverberating sound. “You wanted to discuss Tae and the baby. Let’s focus on that and not the past.”

  Ben grumbles something under his breath before shoving a hunk of steak into his mouth. “I think I should move in.”

  Wine sprays out of my nose. Wide-eyed, I suck in a miniscule amount of air as I cough and hack up the alcohol that made its way into my lungs. Ben jumps from his seat and rushes to my side of the table.

  “Do not touch her.” Water pouring from my eyes, lungs burning, I look from Trey on my right to Ben on my left. Trey’s features soften, worry etching around his tight lips. “Here, drink some water.” A cold, sweating glass goblet is shoved into my trembling hand. “Little sips.”

  With a few more hard coughs and several sips of the ice-cold water, I settle back against the chair.

  “Thanks, Agent Benson.” But he’s not focused on me anymore. Oh no, Trey’s hate-filled stare is focused over my head on my ex “Ben, go sit back down. I’m fine.”

  “I want to be a part of this, Rand. Don’t shove me away.”

  “A part of what?” I take another gulp of water. “Of me being president and living in the White House or a part of your grandchild’s life?”

  “The kid’s life!” he shouts. Throwing his hands in the air, he interlaces his fingers behind his head. “What, you think this about you? Damn, you always were the self-centered one.”

  My hands tighten into fists beneath the table. It’s official—he’s a jackass, and now I need to figure out how to get him out of this house and back to Texas.

  He says it’s about Tae and the baby. We’ll see about that.

  “What’s Taeler having?” I ask.

  “What?” The indignant mask falls from his face, shifting to confusion.

  “The baby. If you care so much about Taeler and her baby, what’s the gender?”

  “A girl of course.” Ben scoffs.

  “A girl?” Sliding against the cushioned seat, I angle myself to face Ben with Trey now at my back.

  “Sorry, a boy.”

  “Hmm, a boy?”

  “Hell if I know. That shit doesn’t matter. It’s not even here yet.”

  “Ben.” The glasses and plates rattle at the slam of my elbow on the table before I rest my head in my hand. The long fake nails glide through my freshly washed hair. I can’t believe I wasted a hair wash day on this tool. “We’re not finding out. Taeler wants to be surprised, and you would’ve known that if you’d asked her anything about the baby.”

  “You fucking tricked me to prove your point,” Ben growls with a menacing step back around the table toward me.

  “Watch your fucking language, you ignorant bastard. You’re talking to the president of the United States.”

  Fire flames in Ben’s eyes as he glares at Trey. “What’s it to you?”

  “You need to leave.” My voice wavers with the building tension between the two men. “Ben, you need to leave. Not just this room but the White House. You’re not staying here.”

  “Rand, baby—”

  “She said out,” Trey growls. A comforting hand rests on my shoulder in support.

  Ben tracks the gesture, and a snarl pulls at his lips. “Is this the one you’re fucking?”

  “Ben!” I gasp. “Stop.”

  The fool doesn’t know he’s seconds from a very slow, grueling death at Trey’s hand.

  An arrogant snarl curls Ben’s upper lip as he sizes Trey up. “You’re just pissed I hit that before you. Wasn’t that great—”

  One second Ben’s standing being all kinds of douchey. The next he’s against the wall with T’s thick forearm pressed to his throat. The hand on my shoulder tightens before slipping away.

  Trey stalks toward the other two men, menace a
nd fury fueling each calculated step.

  “Benson, you stay the hell away from him,” T shouts over his shoulder, having zero effect.

  “I’m not scared of that pretty boy.” Ben wheezes, his face beet red and eyes starting to bulge. “I’m staying.”

  “You damn fool,” T shouts, a spray of spit dotting Ben’s grimacing face. “Trey, I said back the fuck up.”

  “Come on, man, I only want to kill him.”

  “I know, but I don’t have time or the energy for burying a body tonight. That shit’s for the kids. We’re too old to be dragging around dead weight.”

  “Get Smith to carry the body. It’ll be part of his hazing.”

  A wave of fear passes over Ben’s features. His wild eyes connect with mine.

  “Rand, do you hear this? Stop them.”

  “And why in the hell would I do that?” I ask on a laugh. Trey won’t really kill him. I think. Maybe. Eh, who knows? There are so many metaphorical bodies buried in this building; might as well add in a real one. I saw a great place by the rosebushes on one of my walks the other day.

  “Probably not a good time to bring that up,” I mutter under my breath. Twisting back to face the table, I take another bite of the steak and wash it down with the best cabernet I’ve had since that night in New York with that asshole Hinkle. The reminder of that night and his roaming hands turns the juicy bite in my mouth to ash.

  Ben whines, the sound like nails on a chalkboard, followed by two murderous rumbling chuckles. They continue to whisper—conspiring on Ben’s murder, no doubt—when a low hum along the table redirects my intrigue. The cell phone vibrates, shifting against the unused salad fork—or is that the dessert fork? With the tips of two fingers, I flip the device over to view the screen.

  “What the hell?” I mutter. Snatching the napkin from my lap, I toss it to the table.

  The earlier commotion behind me is now silenced with the weight of listening ears.

  I slide the side of my thumb against the screen, stopping the annoying vibrating and answering my Russian friend’s call.

  “Vlad,” I breathe into the mouthpiece now pressed beside my lips. “This is an unexpected call.”