“I'm not asking. This is bigger than you, bigger than me. You have to stop Pierce. Make him realize too much is on the line for him to keep at the investigation.”
“What’s on the line?” I ask hesitantly.
“My life. Yours. His maybe.”
I swallow and stand, leaning a hip against the dark wood. “What's going on, Kyle?” I search for another spark of that fear he let slip, but his normal arrogant mask keeps it covered. “You're the president, for fuck’s sake. You have the power to do or stop whatever you want, which is how you're in the position now.” I shake my head. This is crazy. He’s just trying to get me to feel sorry for him. “What you're doing is wrong, and they will figure out a way to stop you.”
His malicious chuckle has the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. Pool cue still in hand, he maneuvers around the table, putting himself on the same side as me. Warning alarms ring in my head, demanding I match his forward steps with ones in retreat, but I don't. Instead, like a confident fool, I stand my ground, our gazes locked in a battle of wills.
Only once has he dropped the gentleman façade and lowered himself to physical violence. Then I thought it was in direct retaliation to my own, but now I know the truth. It had nothing to do with me.
Fast as lighting, his hand lashes out, fingers diving deep into my hair at the scalp and curling into a tight fist. A whimper passes my lips as he tightens his hold with a sharp tug. I tip my head back, exposing my neck to keep him from pulling my hair out by the root. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
“You think this is just about the fucking oil?” he hisses in my face. Bits of spit spray across my cheek. I cry out at the sharp pain when I try to turn away. “This is so much more. I will not let you or that weak-ass fucker Pierce ruin me.” His eyes sparkle with hate and arrogance. “You have no idea what I did to win the election, to get in this fucking seat. You were just part of it. A small fucking part. I had to—” He cuts himself off with a huff. “You have no idea who we're in bed with now. This isn't just about money. It's power they want.” Something like regret flashes across his face. “What I've put in motion can't be stopped now.”
Fear races straight to my heart. It thumps erratically against my chest, nearly pounding out of my body. Where is his security team? Can’t they see this on the video feed? Where’s mine, for that matter?
“Then tell me,” I rasp through the pain. “Tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help—”
Kyle tips his head back with a haughty laugh. I grimace as the shake of his hand yanks a few strands from my scalp. When he straightens, a different kind of arrogance fills his eyes.
My stomach dips. I've seen this look before. Not on him but other men. The look of knowing you're at their mercy. A lustful, predatory gleam.
“Maybe you can help,” he says, the corners of his lips ticking up. “I need a bit of stress relief, Walmart. Get on your fucking knees.”
Forgetting the pain, I shake my head. Without thinking of the repercussions, I drop the pool cue, lean back into his tight fist, putting some distance between our faces, and slam my knuckles against his cheekbone.
A loud crack resounds through the room. The hold on my hair loosens. I use the moment of distraction to my advantage, slipping farther away from the cursing Kyle. When he finally looks up, hand on his swelling cheek, there's shock written across his features.
“You hit me,” he says in awe.
The door swings open and several men pour in only for Kyle to jam a finger toward the hallway. “Out,” he bellows.
Immediately they follow his order.
“You told me to get on my knees,” I hiss. The green felt scrapes under my ragged nails as I grasp for the pool cue on the table. Squeezing it tight, I lift it between us, pointing the end toward his chest. “Stay the fuck away from me.”
“You're a fucking fool.” Still staring, he bursts out laughing. My resolve wavers as confusion sinks in. “I bring your daughter here to prove I can get to anyone and everyone you love, and you go and hit me.” This time his laugh has an edge of hysteria to it.
Anger festers. Lunging forward, I poke his chest with the blue felt tip of the cue. We both stare at the blue dot now marking his dress shirt.
“Stay the hell away from my daughter,” I grit out.
“I see you started without me.”
Losing focus on Kyle, I swing around to face Shawn. He sits relaxed in one of the deep leather armchairs by the fire.
What the hell? Those were empty earlier. Right? My brows furrow in confusion.
“This is Camp David, Trailer. Every room has multiple entrances and exits. A safety precaution, yes, but also great for sneaking in unnoticed.” Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees and steeples his fingers, his chin on the high point. “I like where it was going before. Get on your knees like a good girl, Trailer, and no one you love will get hurt.”
“Fuck you both,” I hiss. The wooden rod trembles in my shaking hands, giving away my mounting terror. Shit, this is bad.
Movement in my periphery snaps my attention toward the encroaching Kyle. I move around the pool table, putting it between me and the two men.
“I call the ass,” Shawn pipes up. I scowl. “It’ll be fun tearing you apart from the inside out.” A shiver of revulsion rakes across my shoulders. I fight the urge to vomit all over the clean floor. “Not that I'm not already.” Again the fog of confusion overtakes me. It must read on my face that I have no idea what he's referring to. “You haven't figured it out yet?” A sinister smile spreads across his face, making his features tighten.
I glance at Kyle, who's staring at Shawn with just as much confusion on his features. Then something clicks in place, and his features shift from a frown to annoyance.
“You fucker.” Kyle shakes his head. “I told you to back off after the first time.”
“I remember.” Shawn raises a shoulder and leans back, getting comfortable. “And I did, just not completely. She's too fun to fuck with. Plus… well, this way I'll get the VP spot one way or another.”
“You're so fucked up,” Kyle says, exhaustion in his tone. He swipes a palm down his face before leaning forward to grip the edge of the pool table, head dangling between his shoulders. A pang of sympathy hits me in the chest. Yes, he's mean and manipulative and an arrogant ass, but he's still a man. A man who seems to be in over his head.
If only we could work together, give each other a high five and figure this shit out that he's gotten himself into. But that will never happen. He's too arrogant to listen to me. Hell, I've heard he doesn’t even listen to his press secretary or advisors. Why in the hell would he listen to me if he doesn't even value their opinions?
“One way or another?” I ask, the only question I can form that makes sense.
Shawn just continues to smile.
“Drop the investigation. The inquiries. Fuck, drop even the thought of getting me out of office,” Kyle says softly, palming the cheek I hit.
“You know I can’t do that,” I reply with a shake of my head for emphasis. “It's abuse of power, Kyle. I can't sit back and let this mess you’ve gotten our country into unfold when I know I could've done something.”
Well, there it is. Gone is the illusion of Sam being the one working the investigation. If Kyle is smart, he’ll realize I just admitted to helping the DOJ and am now in direct conflict of my agreement with him and the Birmingham estate.
“Told you Miss Self Righteous wouldn't drop it.” I narrow my eyes at Shawn. “You should've just let me take her out like I suggested.” Carefully unfolding himself, he stands and dusts off some invisible lint from the sleeve of his dark blue dress shirt. “I still can.”
I follow his questioning look across the room to Kyle, who shakes his head.
“You're talking about killing me,” I say, astounded. “Right in front of me? For real?”
Kyle sighs and leans against the edge of the pool table. “Just stop looking for the answers, Walmart. Don't p
ush me on this. Don't make me be the person who takes it too far.”
Like Shawn.
“Didn't you already?” I ask, poking the pool cue in his direction. “You put a hit out on me!” I shriek. “You tried to poison me!”
“How the fuck do you know about that?”
I open my mouth only to snap it shut again. Well, shit. Can't really tell him I'm BFFs with the Russian president. Pretty sure he'd skewer me right here if he knew I had access to that kind of information.
“Don't give him all the credit,” Shawn says behind me, now too close for comfort. I swing the pool cue around, ready to defend myself.
A commotion outside the room draws our attention.
“Seems your fuck buddy has had enough of waiting.” Shawn sneers.
“Randi.” I whip my head toward Kyle. Again the exhaustion and fear shine through his posture and tired eyes. “I will take everything you love. Remember that when your morals get in the way of doing the smart thing.”
My knees go weak. “Okay,” I whisper. “You have my word. I'll talk Sam out of the investigation.” I suck in a deep breath. “Please don't hurt her.” My voice trembles.
“What a waste,” Shawn bites out. “I should just finish this now.”
“Shawn,” Kyle growls. “I cannot add her murder investigation to my plate right now.”
“Wow,” I snap. “Sorry if me dying would be an inconvenience to you.”
“Not enough time in the day,” Kyle muses. “Follow through with Sam, Walmart, and Taeler stays safe. And you.” He levels a hard stare at Shawn, who appears unaffected by the ire in Kyle’s glare. “Stop it with the assassination talk. Someone will hear you. And while we're at it, stop whatever else you're doing.”
Shawn stuffs his hands into the front pockets of his tailored suit pants. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“I told you to fucking stop after the first time, and now I'm telling you again. Stop it with that shit. It's a cunt thing to do.”
“Oh, like putting a hit out on her and changing your mind at the last minute to only scaring her?” Shawn scoffs. “Weak-ass pussy.” Rolling his shoulders, he angles his head left and then right. “No wonder those fuckers pulled one over on you. Weak.”
Agitation rolls off Kyle. He stands tall, puffing his chest out in a dominating move. Eyes wide, I take a step back, not wanting to be anywhere between these two. It seems not all is hunky-dory in their odd friendship.
“Know your place, Secretary.” Shawn's title comes out as more of a hiss than a word.
I take several more steps backward until my back hits a wall.
“For now. What’s fucking funny,” he says with a chuckle, looking as relaxed as a tiger after a full meal, “is you truly believed I'd stop with her.”
My mouth pops open. A quick look to Kyle shows his mouth gaping as well.
“And with all that I know,” he continues with a confident, sinister smirk, “it’s too much to risk getting out for you to do anything about it. So no, Mr. President, I won't back off, and as soon as I have her out of the way, you're fucking next.”
At that moment, the door I entered the room through sails open, banging against the wall as four agents pour in. The three I don't know scan the room and march to Kyle's side, putting themselves within arm’s reach.
Trey's narrowed honey brown eyes soften a fraction after I'm looked over head to toe and found whole. He takes in the pool cue and my back at the wall and immediately goes back on guard. Three steps and he's beside me, arm wrapped around my waist, tugging me closer.
“You okay?” he asks, not looking down but keeping his focus on Kyle and Shawn.
Physically, sure, besides my heart pounding out of my chest and zero oxygen getting to my brain. But mentally? Hell no.
What the hell just happened? I search the billiards room in a daze, hoping something will help piece together the last half hour.
“Yeah, um, I’m good,” I stammer. “Just get me out of here, okay?”
With a crisp nod, we're on the move. Out in the hall, another five agents stand ready for anything. Champ stares me down like I've done something wrong while T looks ready to blow a gasket. I swear steam is coming right off his shiny bald head.
Trey starts to lead me toward the room I stayed in last night, but I balk at the doorway.
“No.” I swallow, trying to get my thoughts and emotions in control. “I want to go home.”
T nods and mutters orders into the cuff of his sleeve.
We pass Sam in the living room, his face scrunched with concern. “You're with us,” I say, pausing even though Trey attempts to tug me past. “I need to talk to you three. Alone.”
No one seems happy about the request, but I don't care.
I put up no resistance as I’m ushered into the dark SUV. My feet bounce against the floorboard as I wait for the rest of the team and Sam to load.
Now the hard part. I have an hour and a half to convince Sam to drop the case, figure out what the hell Shawn’s up to, and make a plan to get Taeler somewhere safe.
Because one thing is for certain: I might have sworn I'd make Sam drop the investigation, but I didn't say I would.
18
Trey
Fuck protocol.
Instead of directing Sam to the back seat with Randi, I shove him up front, mumbling something about safety and any other bullshit I can think of as an excuse for me to be in the back with her instead of him. “He got her on the way here” wasn't an excuse Tank was willing to hear when I first called dibs. But, me being me, I went rogue and now here I am, happy as a fucking clam in the back seat with Randi while Tank glares at me through the rearview mirror.
I raise my chin and smile when our eyes connect again. I don't stop my soft chuckle when he grumbles a few curses and tightens his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. He loves me. I just push the envelope sometimes. But let's be honest, Sam sitting up front isn't putting her or us in danger. Now if I would've been forced to sit up front while he sat inches from the one woman I want the most but can't have… well, then his life would've been in danger.
Adjusting in the seat, I shrug out of my jacket and toss it into the back. Randi's gaze stays out the window, seemingly deep in concentration as I attempt to get comfortable. Whatever happened in that room shook her. When I burst in with the other agents, she looked downright terrified. But of what? I'm guessing that's what she wants to discuss now.
“First of all, I feel like we need to get everything out in the open.” Randi doesn't turn from the window. Her hot breath fogs the thick glass where she's leaning so close her forehead is nearly touching it. “Kyle knows the front that Sam and I are a couple is fake. He didn’t say how, but hell, even my daughter knew we weren’t really a couple, so it wasn’t a shock that he didn’t believe it either. I never admitted to helping you, Sam, but I did confirm the DOJ is looking into some aspects of his decisions.” She sighs and presses her forehead against the glass.
Desperate to take a bit of the stress weighing on her shoulders, I slide my hand across the center seat and lace my fingers around her own. At my gentle squeeze of encouragement, her forehead rolls along the window until her hazel eyes meet mine.
“Earlier this year, Kyle put a bill in front of the house that would've stripped many Americans’ right to vote. It was worded in a way that no one noticed. Hell, I might not have even put it all together until it was too late if Kyle hadn’t brought it to my attention that first day in office.” Her attention focuses on our connected hands. “Trey here knew we wouldn't be able to stop it in the House or Senate without help. Which is why he's now in a forced relationship with Jessica Hawthorne.” A rustle in the front seat draws my attention to where Sam has now turned around, leaning against the center console staring at Randi. “I lied to you before, and for that I'm sorry, Sam. Trey and I aren't done, and honestly?” She clears her throat. “I don't think we ever will be.”
“Why keep up pretenses, then?” Sam ask
s, glancing between us.
I nod. “There are some things keeping me tied to Jessica for the moment,” I clarify. “I have to tread carefully because—”
“Because of me,” Randi cuts in. “If he goes back on some promises, ones he made to help us defeat the bill in the Senate, then he's sunk and I am too. I don't have a lot of support in this town, and right now I need all I can get, which means partnering with people and using others as leverage.”
Silence fills the SUV, the whirling of the tires zooming down the highway the only background noise as we wait for Sam to process everything we've known for months.
He sighs. Disappointment seems to waft off him, and I can't say I blame him. If I thought I had a chance with Randi, had hopes of her being mine, and then those were dashed, plus finding out it would've never happened to begin with? Fuck yeah, I'd be disappointed too.
“I can't say I'm surprised,” he says.
“I'm sorry.” Randi's shoulders round further.
“What's all this about?” I interject in an attempt to pull her out of whatever self-deprecating thoughts are running through her head. “Why are you bringing this up?”
“What happened in that room?” Tank's deep voice resounds through the cab.
Randi takes a deep breath and leans back against the headrest, slowly letting the breath out through pursed lips. Her fingers tighten around mine.
“I'm fucked.”
Well, that's one way to stop my heart.
* * *
By the time we get back at One Observatory Circle, unload, and have her safe inside, my rage is just below erupting. Randi heads upstairs for a quick shower and to get caught up on emails, leaving T, Sam, and me standing speechless in the foyer.
“It goes against everything I believe in to just give this up when I’m so close to taking that fucker down,” Sam seethes. Stretching, he laces his fingers behind his head. “Plus, I don't like her doing this on her own.”
Power Switch: Power Play Series Book 3 Page 18
