Power Switch: Power Play Series Book 3

by Mitchell, Kennedy L.

  “It got out of hand. It wasn't supposed to get to this point. Fuck.” Still holding the gun, he presses both hands to the side of his head.

  “He's cracking,” Sam says behind me.

  “No shit,” I growl. Kyle takes a step right before turning and moving to the left in a strange one-step pacing motion. “Do you mind pointing those somewhere else?” I hiss, not letting my focus leave the unraveling president while directing my words to the other agents in the room.

  They don't.

  “No.” Everyone in the office holds a collective breath. Even Randi stops her hysterical laughing at the single word. Kyle stares at the gun in his hand. “I'm not stepping down.”

  It's written across his sullen features, the desperation and darkness giving away his intentions. I know that look, have seen that look. When someone thinks they’re out of options.

  I can't make myself move. Nothing will compute as the man I've hated most of my life slowly raises the gun. Unsure of what to do in the situation, his agents stand, jaws slack, guns slowly lowering from their ready positions.

  “Fuck,” I groan. “Cover me,” I say over my shoulder.

  Thank goodness the motherfucker is drunk, making his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. I'm halfway to his desk when he realizes my intentions. Rotating his wrist, he aims the gun barrel right at my chest as I continue racing forward to prevent him from taking his own life.

  A knowing gleam flickers in his eyes just as his finger twitches on the trigger.

  Pain stabs into my shoulder. Randi screams. Tank bellows in rage, shaking the walls.

  Another shot booms through the white-paneled room just as another punch of pain slams into the center of my chest. I stumble, inches from the desk. With a determined roar, I lunge over it, my thighs slamming against the edge but not before I wrap my arms around Birmingham. In a tangle of limbs, we crash into the desk, his weight slamming me onto it. Wrestling for control, I fight back the pain-filled tears leaking from my eyes to locate the gun.

  As quickly as it happened my arms are suddenly empty. Kyle's heavy weight is gone, leaving me heaving atop the desk alone. Shouts echo around me, but I can't focus on anything other than the pain. Somewhere in the room, Randi cries my name, the desperation and fear in her trembling voice urging me to find her.

  Grunting, panting to keep from crying out, I press the palm of my uninjured arm to the desk. I lift a couple inches before I fall back to the hard wood.

  Tears, or maybe sweat, drip into my eyes, blurring my vision, but still I'm able to make out the shit-for-brains Birmingham wrapped up in Tank’s anaconda arms across the room.

  “Trey.” Peeling my cheek from the paper it was stuck to, I turn my head toward the soft voice before it thunks back to the desk. “Trouble.” Tears stream down her face, leaving black lines dividing each cheek. “Please. Please be okay.” Her rapid breaths breeze over my damp cheek. Those edible lips I love so much brush along my cheekbone. “What the hell were you thinking trying to stop him?”

  I open my mouth to tell her that I have zero idea, but a spike of pain shoots from my chest, stealing my breath. Slamming my eyes shut, I grunt in pain, my back arching off the desk.

  “No,” she cries. “Trey. No, please, stay with me. You're okay.”

  My heart thumps against my ribs as warm liquid slides along my skin beneath my dress shirt, leaving a chill in its wake.

  “Mess.”

  Giving in to the darkness, I welcome the peace it offers.

  * * *

  “I think he's coming to.” Something soft and cold presses against my cheek, helping me fight through the grogginess that still has a hold over me. A quiet beeping sounds somewhere around me while the crisp scent of ammonia permeates my nose. “Trouble, wakey wakey. You've taken a long enough nap.”

  “Madam President, we need to leave right now.”

  My senses flicker to life at the sound of that unfamiliar male voice. A florescent overhead light assaults my eyes when they finally deem to respond to my demands to open.

  “Fuck,” I grunt. I go to cover my eyes to save them from being blinded, but something at my wrist prevents me from raising my hand. I tug again a little harder this time—same result. Blindly, I jerk at the restraints holding my wrists down, the desperate need to be free overriding everything else. The beeping sound picks up, turning frantic, matching the beats of my pounding heart.

  “Trey, you're safe. You're in the hospital.” Randi's voice cuts through the panic, but it’s not enough to stop yanking at whatever the hell is restraining me.

  “Off,” I hiss, the single word scratching my dry throat.

  Warm, humid breath brushes against the shell of my ear. “So you like to restrain but don't like being restrained. How interesting.”

  I'd laugh at her comment if I weren't freaking the hell out. What seems like hours later, the restraints restricting my movement loosen from my wrists. The relief is short-lived, however. Just as I lift both arms to relish in the newfound freedom, massive palms seal around my wrists, holding them to my side.

  “You'll rip out your IV again, you idiot.” Tank's deep rumbling voice quells the desperation building in my chest. “It's why we had to have these on you in the first place. I'll let you go, Playboy, if you promise to stop acting like a damn kid.”

  Peeking one eye open, I attempt an easy smile. “Got it.” More snappy comments filter through, but I can't muster the energy to say them. Relaxing against the stiff mattress, I close my eyes again. “What's going on?”

  “Madam President, it's time.”

  “Who's the new guy?” I demand, cringing through the discomfort each word causes.

  “Here's some water, Trouble.”

  I blink open both eyes. Randi hovers over me, her smile wide and fake while fear flickers in her hazel eyes. I wrap my lips around the thin plastic straw and take several pulls of the room-temperature water. A grunt of displeasure rumbles from me when she pulls back before I've had my fill. “Doctor said to drink it slow. How much do you remember?”

  Allowing my lids to slide shut once again, I search my memories.

  Birmingham, gun, pain.

  “That asshole shot me.”

  “Once in the shoulder and once in the chest. Thank goodness you had your vest on or you would've been…. Kyle would've—”

  Sensing her own pain, I slowly reach up, careful to not snag my IV, and cup a palm around her anguished face.

  “Shh, baby. I'm okay.”

  “They had to do surgery to repair an artery the bullet nicked. You've been out for almost six hours,” Tank says from his post against the wall behind Randi. As angry as his tone makes him sound, there’s only relief written across his face.

  “Birmingham?” I question. Searching the room, I note two of the agents from inside the president’s office hanging back along the wall, their focus on Randi. “Why are they here?”

  With a hand to my jaw, she turns my attention from the agents back to her. “Kyle is being detained somewhere.” I catch the annoyed glance she shoots the two newcomers. “We had to wait a few hours for him to sober up and sign the resignation papers, but he refused to meet with the media.”

  “Madam President.” That unfamiliar voice from earlier speaks up again.

  Her dark hair slides over her shoulder as she shifts to address the person. “Five minutes.”

  Turning back, she tucks the rogue locks of hair behind her ear. Only now do I notice the layers of makeup on her normally natural face. The outfit she's wearing is different than the one from earlier too.

  “Mess?”

  “I was sworn in while you were in surgery,” she whispers. She scans my face as she rakes two fingers through my hair, lulling me into a near hypnotic state. “I wanted to wait, wait for you to be there, but the moment Kyle announced he was stepping down and made it official, they… well, it had to be done.”

  “And now?” I ask. Obviously they're trying to pull her away for something important.
<
br />   She sighs and looks to Tank. “I'm addressing the nation as soon as I get back to the White House. I didn't… I couldn't do it without knowing if you were awake yet. I've held them off as long as I could, Trouble.”

  Rubbing the side of my thumb along her cheek, I nod. “I'm going with you.”

  I smile at her snort. “You just woke up from surgery. There's no way the doctors will release you, and even if they did, I wouldn’t let you.”

  “Fuck,” I grunt. As much as I don't want to admit to this weakness, she's right. There's no way the doctors will let me leave. Hell, I don't know if I could if I tried. My entire body feels heavy, like it's somehow molding deeper into the mattress. Plus, a nap sounds damn amazing. “Go. Go make the announcement.” Inclining my head to the flat-screen mounted to the wall across the room, I say, “I'll watch from here. Go do what you need to do, Madam President.”

  The fake smile fades, leaving behind the one I fucking live for.

  “I'll be back as soon as I'm done.” The bed creaks, the side rails rattling as she leans forward, pressing a single kiss to my cheek. “There's a lot to talk about.”

  The needle imbedded in my left hand tugs when I capture her chin, holding her beautiful face close. Ignoring the pain each move causes, I lean forward and seal my lips over hers.

  “Now you can go.”

  “You’re bossy when you're shot,” she remarks with zero heat in her words.

  “I'm bossy when I'm not,” I retort, fighting the wince as I lower back to the mattress.

  “It's one of the things I love.” She smiles. “I'll be back.”

  The bed moves, shifting my body as she stands. Gaining Tank's attention, I nod toward Randi. “You go with her. I'll be fine.”

  “No shit,” he grunts. “We'll be back.” Before he steps out the door, Tank turns. “If you ever pull that stupid shit again, I'll shoot you myself and then let Sarah kick your wounded ass, you hear me, Benson?”

  “I love you too, big guy.” Holding up both arms, I motion for him to come closer. “Do you need a hug?”

  “You're impossible.” His words say he's annoyed, but the relief on his face tells me what he won't put into words. “Those two are staying here with you to protect you. Be back when we can.”

  Resting back onto the flat pillow, I don't fight the smile that wants to split my face. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, immediately regretting the motion.

  Holy hell, being shot sucks.

  “Wake me up when it's time.”

  27

  Randi

  “Have you heard from the hospital?” I ask as the makeup artist dusts my face once again with oil-absorbing power. “Any changes with Trouble?”

  Tank runs a hand over his shiny bald head. “We left twenty minutes ago, Randi. He’s fine. Get your head in the right space. You’re about to address the country as the president of the United States.”

  I nod and turn my attention back to the slips of paper in my hand. Again I scan over the words, though I already memorized them while we waited for Trey during surgery. After Taeler being taken and held hostage, and then Trey getting shot, I’ve no doubt aged years overnight. I still can’t believe he did that, stepping in so Kyle wouldn’t harm himself.

  Movement in the mirror catches my attention. Sam’s reflection nods. I nod back, both of us on the same page about what’s to come.

  “They’re ready for you, Madam President.”

  Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply and hold it until it burns in my lungs before slowly releasing all the negative nerves and self-doubt. I can do this. Not that I have much choice. Sure, I have the option of stepping down too, but that’s an escape, one I don’t intend to take.

  Standing from the makeup chair, I toss the few pages of notes onto the table in front of me and meet Tank’s eyes. We nod to each other in unison.

  Show time.

  The chatter of the reporters silences the moment I walk through the press room door. I clear my throat and focus on each footstep to ensure I don’t stumble on live TV.

  Live.

  Behind the podium, I grip the sides and stare directly into the fifty or so cameras, their lenses all trained on me.

  Here goes nothing.

  “Thank you all for being here today. A lot has transpired over the last twelve hours here in the White House, as many of you have heard through various sources. As of 9:15 a.m., President Kyle Birmingham has stepped down from his position effective immediately.” I pause, letting the gasps and murmurs settle before going on. “With the role abdicated, I was sworn in as president of the United States as of 9:17 a.m.”

  The chatter level rises, and a few reporters shout out questions. I shake my head and hold up a hand.

  “I know everyone has questions, but please let me get through this before there are any interruptions. I do not know the specifics behind Kyle’s sudden departure”—slight lie, but it’s not like I can tell everyone the truth—“only that he has officially stepped down, and I was tasked to fill the role. Everyone knows my story, my background, and I have zero doubts that many of you are questioning my ability to lead this country with only a year and a half of politics under my belt. I’ll admit that two years ago, I would’ve agreed with your assessment. However, now I 100 percent disagree. Some people see my common upbringing as a weakness, and I believe they’re wrong. It’s a strength, an insight into the core of the country. An insight I intend to filter through every aspect of the White House, my advisors, and my cabinet. It will be beyond difficult to fill the shoes of the many strong men who have come before me, but I am up for that task. No longer will titles, money, and power be the decision-makers of this town. With me as president, I’m bringing the people back into the picture, their lives and their families the center of our focus. I’ll make mistakes, there’s no doubt about that.” I give a weak smile. “All I’m asking is for you to trust me. I know that’s asking a lot coming from a politician.” The crowd of reporters laughs. “But at the core, I’m not. I’m Randi Sawyer, daughter of an addict, a teen mother, and a proud American. That’s who I’m asking you to believe in. Believe in me.”

  Crickets.

  I breathe deeply and slowly peel my fingers off the podium, their joints stiff from the white-knuckled grip I had on the shiny wood.

  Suddenly the room explodes in a flurry of questions, shouts, waving hands, and a few cheers. I search the room, my attention falling on a familiar reporter, the one who asked the tough questions during the briefing I saw Kyle host months ago. I point to her and smile.

  “What are your plans regarding the oil crisis and our allies demanding our help overseas?”

  My smile widens. “Tossing out the tough questions first. I like it.” The reporters around her elbow her and pat her shoulder. “Honestly, I don’t know. There was a lot of insight and data I wasn’t privy to in the VP role that I will be now. I don’t want to give an answer without knowing the facts and looking at the options we have. The last thing I want is to go into a fight if we don’t have to. Those men and women of our amazing military count on me to send them into a battle that we can win and is the absolutely only choice for success. I won’t let them down by skimping on the details and sending them over to fight when we don’t have to.”

  “So you’re pro military?” a man shouts.

  I level a glare his way that makes him shrink back into his seat. “I’m pro any American man or woman who gives a piece of their lives to serve this country. It’s a sacrifice that is priceless in my eyes.” I turn to look over my shoulder. “Dumbass,” I whisper before turning back to the crowd with a fake smile.

  “With you as president, that means your previous role as VP is open. Have you decided who will fill it?”

  I try to swallow back the bile climbing up my throat. This is the part of the night I’ve dreaded the most. Shawn demanded I make him vice president after I was sworn in, stating very clearly that if I went back on my word, then someone I love would pay the price. I can’t let th
at happen. Having Taeler in the arms of the enemy for just a couple hours was a horror I never want to repeat.

  I clear my throat and grip the podium once again, using its strength to ground me as I make the stupidest, most selfish choice I’ve ever made in my life.

  “You’re correct, sir. With me shifting to the president seat, it has left a gap in the vice president role. After careful consideration, I’ve made my decision on who will not only best serve in that role for the people of this country but also be a strong partner for me.” I inhale deeply, my knees knocking behind the podium. “Please join me in congratulating our newest vice president of the United States.” I wave to the man standing off to the side of the room. “Mr. Samuel James Pierce.”

  Trey and Randi’s story continues with Power Surge, coming June 22nd!

  Also by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  Standalone:

  Falling for the Chance

  A Covert Affair

  Finding Fate

  Memories of Us

  Mine to Protect

  Series:

  More Than a Threat Series:

  More Than a Threat

  More Than a Risk

  More Than a Hope (Coming late 2020)

  Power Play Series:

  Power Play (Book 1)

  Power Twist (Book 2)

  Power Switch (Book 3)

  Power Surge (Book 4 coming June 2020 )

  Power Term (Book 5 coming August 2020)

  Acknowledgments

  This book, this series, wouldn’t be here without my three favorite alpha readers. They encourage me daily, tell me when I’m diverting from the character true self, and put up with a LOT of complaining/I need cuddles text. Emily, Chris, and Kristin I couldn’t do this without you three. Honestly I wouldn’t want to do this without you. Your text and messages after reading nightly make all this worth it. Thank you for everything you do.