Power Twist: Power Play Series Book 2

by Mitchell, Kennedy L.

  Power Twist

  Power Play Series Book 2

  Kennedy L. Mitchell

  Copyright © 2020 by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Created with Vellum

  To those who believed in this series from the start. Thank you for your love, support and unending patience.

  Inspiration

  “I am in politics because of the conflict between good and evil, and I believe that in the end good will triumph.”

  - Margaret Thatcher

  Contents

  From the Author

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Also by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  Acknowledgments

  From the Author

  Please Read

  Thank you so much for downloading Power Twist! I can guarantee you I saw your download and squealed with delight that someone is taking a chance on this series. Before you start reading however I’d like to reiterate this is the second book in the five book Power Play series. Each book builds on the pervious so if you haven’t read Power Play, book 1, PLEASE don’t continue reading Power Twist until you have.

  Power Play introduces the main characters, gives backstory and plays a very important part in setting up the plot for the entire series.

  So with that being said, if you’ve read Power Play please continue and I hope you enjoy Trey and Randi’s continued story. If you haven’t read Power Play yet, please click on the link below which will direct you back to Amazon where you can download it for FREE with Kindle Unlimited or $2.99.

  Power Play

  Prologue

  Kyle Birmingham

  I flick the end of the half-smoked cigar, the ashes floating to the balcony floor before being swept away on a bitter winter wind. Even with the thick cashmere overcoat, a deep chill has seeped through to my bones. I tuck my free hand into the soft silk-lined pocket and ball it into a tight fist to warm my stiffly frozen fingers. Elbow against the stone railing, I stare out into the night, my focus zeroed in on the White House, my home in less than a month.

  “Congratulations, motherfucker.”

  I shake my head. A small smile creeps up my wind-burned cheeks, stretching my dry lips. Lifting the Cuban, I take another long puff before turning to acknowledge the asshole standing just outside the balcony’s double doors.

  “No thanks to you, asshole. I should kick your ass for pulling that stunt with Walmart’s background.” I turn back to the spectacular view, dismissing Shawn and his cocky-ass smirk. “You had no way of knowing which way the poll would swing with her real background known.”

  The sharp click of dress shoes against the tiled balcony floor signals his approach. Cutting my eyes in his direction, I watch Shawn thumb through the box of cigars still open on the stone ledge. The fucker doesn’t say a word as he snips off the tip and lights the end. After several puffs, the end glows red with the hot embers.

  “We needed to know how she'd react under pressure,” he finally says.

  “That's bullshit and you know it,” I bite out. The fucker was pissed I selected Randi as VP instead of him last year. I'm an opportunist at heart, so when Randi fucking Sawyer suggested the crazy-as-hell idea on how to win the White House, I went with it. Except that means I’m stuck with her—for now.

  The dickhead simply shrugs like he didn’t almost make me lose the goal I’ve been working toward my whole life.

  “It all worked out. Don't get your thong in a wad.” The cigar crumbles in my tightening fist. “You won. That's what matters. Move on. We have new shit to discuss.”

  I shift my focus back to the glowing White House in the distance. My future home. Two weeks from now, I, Kyle Birmingham, will be President of the United States of America. The most powerful man in the world.

  Me.

  I smile into the night, momentarily forgetting all the promises that were made to help me secure this seat and now need to be kept.

  “I know what needs to be done,” I say. “I have a plan.”

  “Does that plan involve taking Trailer out of the picture? She needs to be dealt with for me to claim my rightful seat as vice president. Her sideshow act is done. You got the sympathy votes needed to win. Now we get her the fuck out of our city.”

  I chuckle at Shawn's favorite nickname for Randi. I'm partial to Walmart, but Trailer is a great representation for the trailer trash she really is at the core. Once trash, always trash in my opinion.

  “It does.” Probably not the way he's hoping. He'd love to see her six feet under just because that’s the way his evil mind works, whereas I have a less murderous plan. One that will drive her from this town and back to that dump she came from. I'm a conniving, deceitful bastard, but I'm no killer.

  Not that I can say the same for Shawn.

  I toss the ruined Cuban to the balcony floor and reach for the highball glass filled with my favorite scotch sitting on the metal side table beside me.

  Shawn curses. “Details would be great right about now, fucker.”

  I laugh. “In two weeks, you'll be assigned your new role as secretary of interior. That's all you need to know right now. I have a different idea on how to handle our bleeding-heart VP to keep her off our tail.”

  “I'd love to make her bleed,” Shawn says under his breath with a hint of hope in his voice.

  “No,” I state hopefully cutting off his mental planning of Randi’s assassination. “I need you to be hands off. No more attacks, no more stunts.” The cold stone digs into my hip as I shift to face Shawn. “I get you’re pissed, but if something happens to her, there will be a fucking revolt. You releasing her background to the media only made the voters love her more. She's like their fucking Princess Diana now, you idiot.”

  He grumbles something before taking a puff from his cigar. “Sure, you're the boss.”

  An icy chill stiffens my spine. He's lying, no doubt about it. A slice of pity carves into my heart for Walmart. She has no idea the type of things he's capable of, that he enjoys.

  “I won't lay a finger on her,” he continues.

  Like he ever would. No way in hell would he get his hands dirty like that. That's not his style. No, he prefers to stay back, to watch from a distance with his fucking cock in his hand. Creepy, sinister son of a bitch. If it weren’t for our childhood, our family connections, I’d distance myself from him as quickly as I could. But it’s too late for that. I’m stuck with the psycho from now until one of us is dead or I’m deemed no longer useful in his eyes.

  “W
hat’s the motherfucking plan?” Shawn asks as he relaxes on the outdoor couch, his arms stretching wide along the back.

  The plan.

  “We have to make good on a few promises made through the campaign and before. That's where I need you. We have to put the main pieces in place day one, without Walmart catching wind of our plans.”

  “She could always disappear now, solve all our problems.”

  I curse under my breath. He’s relentless. A dog with a bone, and that bone is Randi Sawyer.

  “Just focus on the EPA regulations I tell you to and start a search for the best oil-rich federal land. We're on a deadline.”

  “You're on a deadline,” he says, smiling around the cigar.

  Damn bastard. Even though he's right. I'm the one who made foolish deals to win the White House and am now on a time crunch to keep them.

  I shiver and tuck my chin into the collar of my coat. The people I’m now indebted to make Shawn seem kind. He’s not the only man in this city with no qualms about taking a life for payback.

  I shake my head to disperse the dark thoughts and weight of what needs to be done this first year.

  “We get this shit done quick, day one. I distract Walmart while you shift the pieces in place to settle my debts.”

  “And what do I get in return?”

  “The VP spot, the one she took from you.” No harm in stoking his anger, considering it's a blazing forest fire already.

  His lips peel back into a sinister smile.

  Fuck.

  Watch out, Walmart. You've made enemies even I can't protect you from.

  Chapter One

  Randi

  January

  Maybe I smell and that's why no one will talk to me. Hell, even stand close to me.

  With a quick glance left and then right, checking for the all clear, I inconspicuously dip my nose to my right shoulder to take a nonchalant whiff. Huh. Not stinky, just powder fresh like the deodorant label promised. Something else must be repelling these fancy-ass people; why else would I be bored in the corner still holding my first flute of champagne?

  I glance around the packed room, a wide fake smile plastered across my face, desperate to make eye contact with someone in hopes to initiate a conversation. But no such luck. Like it’s been all night. Well, let's be honest, it’s happened since the day I stepped on the campaign trail. Only my do-or-die secret service team welcomed me in this town, and tonight is no different.

  The White House sparkles like the strings of diamonds around every woman's neck and wrists in attendance. At least seventy-five couples fill the various rooms, all here to celebrate this morning's events.

  Inauguration day.

  Vice president of the United States, makeup perfect, killer dress with the coveted red-soled shoes, and still not a single person will talk to me. The women cut their eyes in my direction before turning up their noses and looking away, while the men get a calculating gleam before turning back to a ‘worthier’ partygoer.

  “You look creepy.”

  The stretched fake smile turns into a genuine one. “I'm trying to look approachable,” I say over my shoulder to T, also know as Davis Washington or Tank, alpha secret service team lead and my friend.

  A massive shadow floats over me as he steps to my side. Glancing up, I take in my second-favorite agent. His bald head reflects the overhead lights while his massive frame encased in his usual black suit seems to soak it all in.

  “You sniffed your pit and are now smiling like the freak from Saw. That does not make you approachable. It confirms their thoughts.”

  “I'm poor white trash made up to look like a DC socialite?”

  I can’t help but chuckle at his answering growl. “No, that you're not one of them.”

  “Thank fuck,” I mutter, which earns me an almost smile. I'll take that win. Getting the tough guy to smile while on duty is a true feat. “Which one's Rachel?” Since no one is talking to me might as well search the crowd for Trey’s ex-girlfriend. She left Trey for Shawn Whitt, the idiot, who was invited to the celebration tonight no doubt.

  T blanches, his fingers flying to his ear and pulling the two-way communication device out a fraction.

  “It seems Benson is adamant I don't answer your question,” he says while readjusting the earpiece. “Not that I could, since I don't see her or Whit here.”

  Damn. That was the whole point of coming to this stupid thing tonight, plus the small fact that my presence was required. Actually, demanded and threatened is more like it. Kyle wasn't as accepting of my no RSVP last month as I hoped. I tried to explain that no one would care if I was there or not, but that didn't matter.

  Speak of the devil…. An overpowering wave of his expensive cologne closes my throat as Kyle appears at my side.

  “Not having fun, Walmart?” Tipping forward, he frowns at T. “We have things to discuss. Leave.”

  T's dark brown eyes meet mine before he dips his head and disappears into the shadows once again. Apprehension coils in my gut. Yes, we're in a room full of people, but being this close to Kyle still triggers every warning bell.

  “Great party,” I deadpan. “None of your asshole friends will talk to me—not that I'm complaining. But I would like to say, for the record, 'I told you so.'”

  “Oh, Walmart, they're afraid they'll catch something that will require antibiotics.” The corners of his eyes crinkle with the widening of his arrogant smile. “Or catch too deep of a whiff.” To make his point, he leans forward to take an exaggerated sniff. “Nearly two years away from that shithole I pulled you out of and you still reek of trailer trash. How is that even possible?” Moving out of my personal space, he runs a slow gaze down my body. “At least you look the part.”

  “Fuck you, Kyle.”

  His ice blue eyes roll to the ceiling. “Everything except that mouth of yours. Now, as lovely as this is, I came over here for a reason.”

  “Then spit it out and leave me alone so I can people watch in peace.”

  “Tomorrow morning, eight o’clock, I need you in the Oval Office.”

  I bat my eyelashes. “Say please.”

  “You're an idiot.”

  I don't hold back my snicker. “I already have a meeting tomorrow morning. Call my secretary and she'll pencil you in sometime next year.”

  “Eight o’clock,” he says, emphasizing each word. “I promise you won't want to miss it. There’s an item or two on the agenda that I'm sure you'll be interested in learning about.”

  I tilt my head, my eyes searching his. “What are you playing at, Kyle? What's going on?” Dread sinks in my gut like lead. Kyle is not a nice man; no way in hell would he give me a heads-up unless there's an underlying agenda.

  “Guess you'll have to show up to find out.” His name being called draws his blue eyes away to scan the crowd. “See you tomorrow, Walmart. And hey, make sure you wear something sexy. First impressions and all.”

  Red-hot anger flashes through my veins, heating my skin. I take a heavy step in the direction he disappeared through the crowd only to be held back. I turn my attention to the football-size hand around my wrist and trail up the black sleeve to T's determined stare.

  “Leave it,” he mutters. “Nothing good would come from the VP kicking the president’s ass in the middle of their first party.”

  “And last party. This one is boring as hell. They don't even have Jack Daniel’s at the bar. Who does that?” I sigh and take a sip of the now-warm champagne. I don't care how much they say this stuff cost, it's awful—yet every woman here is downing it glass after glass. At least they're now at the point of intoxication where I no longer exist for them to glare at. “And side note, no way could I take Kyle. See these arms?” I hold up a bicep for T to inspect. “These muscles are only used for two things, lifting food to my mouth and carrying my laptop bag.” I scan the crowd for Kyle and hoping for Shawn to appear too. “I'd love to learn though.”

  “What's that?” T presses two fingers to his ear. “No, I'm
not saying that, you idiot. It's inappropriate.”

  “What did Trouble say to get him into, well, trouble?” I smile as I search the shadows for Trey.

  “He can tell you later, even though he shouldn't. What were you saying you wanted to learn?”

  I reach for a passing waiter’s tray, gently setting my half-full champagne flute on top. “To fight, or at least defend myself. Maybe just the basics in case something happens when you guys aren't around. What time is it?”

  “Ten, ma'am.”

  I shoot him a side-eyed glare. He knows how much I hate the ‘ma'am’ shit. Makes me feel older than I already am. Four years from forty, I don't need any more help feeling old.

  “Great,” I say as I gather the silky pink material of my dress and tug it up an inch. “Let's go to my new home. Where's the nearest exit?”

  A sense of security washes over me, calming my jittery nerves the moment his hand presses against my lower back. There's no heat, no desire like there is with Trey; T's strong yet gentle touch is nothing more than protective and platonic. The fact that I'm not pulling away right now is crazy considering I've gone my whole life not being able to stand anyone touching me. It says something about T, about Trey. Maybe that I want their protection, want the sense of belonging their strong hands provide.

  Eh, I’ll think about that later.

  We weave through the crowd, my wide smile falling the closer we get to the exit doors. T says something into his sleeve, and the double doors just ahead swing open.