Power Twist: Power Play Series Book 2

by Mitchell, Kennedy L.

  A rumbling chuckle vibrates my chest. Stepping back, I discreetly cover my cock and balls; just the mention of the loss of my boys makes all systems go into protection mode. “Pretty sure he was too busy trying to locate his chopped-off dick to fight back.” I shake my head. “Nice diversion. Now spill it, Mess.”

  Knowing I caught her, she smiles and leans back on her elbows. The front of the robe parts, showing off more of the fair skin I'm dying to lick. She clears her throat, drawing my attention up to her smirking face.

  “After I almost Bobbitted his head with the mug, he was pissed and tossed me against the wall,” she says with a shrug like it’s no big deal, but I see the tension in her shoulders, the tight lines around her eyes. “It's not like this is the first time he's touched me, just didn't expect it. Next time I'll do better.”

  “What did you do?” I grit out, my jaw clenched so tight I have no idea how I formed the words. I'm going to kill him. I'll start with cutting off the hand that held her against the wall, then go from there.

  “Nothing, I didn't do anything.” Her head falls forward, the tip of her chin now resting on her breastbone. “I couldn't do anything, Trey. I can hold my ground in verbal fights, but physical? Might as well have been a fight between a lion and a mouse.”

  I scan her thin arms and nod.

  “We need to fix that.”

  “Exactly what I said last night to T,” she grumbles and falls all the way back onto the bed with a moan. “What am I going to do?” She massages her temples. “Get the votes, then what? I feel like that’s not enough. I need more. I need leverage or more power or something.”

  She's not wrong. I've been feeling the same thing since the conversation earlier but wasn’t quite sure where to start. Plus, right now, all I can focus on is the slight opening of her robe, giving me a glimpse of her long lean legs.

  I lick my lips, eager for a taste.

  “Trouble?” Her breathy voice draws my hooded gaze from the apex of her thighs to her face. “What are we doing?”

  What are we doing?

  What the fuck am I doing?

  I shake my head to clear the lust fog that had settled over my thoughts.

  “We plan, we strike, and then we plan again. It's a never-ending battle here in DC, Mess. And in this role, it’s a thousand times worse. People will come after you every second of every day trying to take you down and find faults. It's part of the job. Your job is to work in spite of them, not against them. Do what you promised your voters, and right now that's fighting for their rights to vote. Don't let them down, and if you can do that, then we move on to the next issue. I told you before and I'll say it again, you need help.” I give her a pointed look and roll my eyes. “And I don't mean just that single admin you hired. You need someone who you can trust.”

  That bottom lip sticks out in an exaggerated pout. “But where in the hell do I find someone who I can trust and is willing to side with me? That's a tough find.”

  I dip my chin in agreeance. It will be a tough find, but we have to. There's no way she can be flying all around the globe, entertaining various country leaders, and get the votes needed.

  A name, a familiar face, floats to the forefront of my mind. Groaning, I drop my head.

  “What?” she questions.

  “Not what, but who.”

  “Okay, who?”

  “I might know someone who would be a good fit.” I grab the back of my neck, massaging the tension out of the stiff muscles. Someone who can help us sway the votes Randi’s way with a few well-placed suggestions if I asked her to.

  “If you suggest Rachel, I swear I'll Bobbitt you.”

  “Is that a thing now? Bobbitting as a threat?”

  “Is for me. Who is it, Trouble? I have a feeling I won't like this suggestion.”

  “You won't,” I grumble.

  Randi tilts her head. “Listen, I know we're doing the whole friends thing nowadays, but if you've slept with this person, I’ll take a hard pass. Talk about awkward.”

  I shake my head, my signature smirk coming out for the first time in a long while. Fuck, I miss this woman. Not VP Randi but this Randi. The one who's relaxed, easy, simple yet challenging as fuck.

  Suddenly, being in the small room with her is too much. My muscles twitch as I hold myself back from touching her. “No, I haven't slept with her. Hey, erm… listen, I gotta run. See you tomorrow for our shift.” Before she can say anything, I bolt for the door. As soon as it’s closed behind me, I fall forward, resting my forearms against the opposite wall.

  I didn't lie. I've never slept with Jessica. Doesn't mean the woman hasn't tried on several occasions.

  Having the Hawthorne family name, Jessica's been on Mother’s top list of wife prospects for years. No doubt Jessica will jump at the idea of working with Randi just to be close to me on a consistent basis. As long as I make it out as a favor to me and my family, not Randi, Jessica should be on board. Shitty to bend the truth that way, yes, but if it works and we get the votes, who the hell cares?

  This just keeps getting better and better. No touching Randi and now potentially having to deal with Jessica on a daily basis.

  “Do you know what you're doing?”

  With an annoyed groan, I fall forward even farther, smacking my forehead against the cool wall. Ouch. “And just what makes you think I don't know what I'm doing, Tank?”

  “Honestly, man, I don't know. You've never acted like this before.” The cool wall rolls along my forehead as I turn to my best friend and team lead. His head is dipped while his mitt of a hand swipes over his shiny bald head over and over. “I'm worried.”

  “I can keep it in my pants,” I say, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. “Seriously, you think I don't know my limits?” I don't, but no need for him to know that.

  “Not that, but since that's where your mind is going, maybe I should be worried about you keeping your hands off our job.”

  “She's not just the job and you know it.”

  A confirming grunt sounds down the hall. “She's safer when you're not distracted by what you two do in private. I know you hate it, and hell if my wife doesn't tell me I'm an idiot for it all the time, but it’s what needs to be done. At least until she's established in her role, established in this damn town.”

  It makes sense, everything he’s saying, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Pushing against the wall, I lean a shoulder against it and cross both arms over my chest. “What are you worried about, then?” I stand straight with a quick glance back to the closed bedroom door. “Her?”

  Hiking a thumb over his shoulder, Tank turns and tromps down the stairs. An uneasy feeling rolls in my gut as I follow, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up. Turning the corner, I nearly smack into his stone-like back at his abrupt stop.

  “You. I'm worried about you.” Tank turns only to take a quick step back while giving me the side-eye. “You need a hug or something?”

  I smile and open my arms wide. “Always, buddy.” I drop my arms at his sneer of disgust and chuckle. It fades as his words finally register. Tank’s gut has never been wrong before; no reason for it to turn faulty now. “What do you mean, you're worried about me? Didn't we just establish I'm good, no need to worry about me going against your orders? I'm done with those antics, done with screwing around. That year sidelined nearly killed me—hell, it nearly killed all of us. I'm not screwing up and hurting the team again.”

  He steps around me, heading for the kitchen. With a sigh I turn to follow once again, the heels of my boots clomping on the pristine hardwood floor. In the kitchen, he heads straight for the pantry and steps inside.

  “I'm worried you're going to do something stupider than that.” Cheez-It box in hand, he steps out of the dark pantry and rips the top open, immediately diving into the cheesy goodness. I hold back a chuckle. Poor guy and his nervous eating habits. “You're protective of her, and she's already made some high-power enemies. I'm worried you're going to do something stupid like attac
k the president of the United States for manhandling your girl.”

  “That motherfucker shouldn't touch any woman like that,” I growl, leaning over the counter to close the distance between us. “He deserves for someone to kick his ass.”

  His dark eyes meet mine, and the box drops to the granite counter. Pressing his palms to the white stone, he leans closer, pressing his stomach against the edge. “You mean like what you did to that tweaker in Texas?”

  With an exaggerated eye roll, I shove my palms against the cold stone to stand straight.

  “You did that before you even knew the girl. Now you're attached and volatile.”

  I slide my fingers through the soft strands of my dark hair as I pace from one side of the kitchen to the other. “Okay, I'll admit I took it a little too far—”

  “You beat the shit out of him, then pressed the barrel of your gun to his temple.”

  My shoulders stiffen as tension radiates through them and down my spine. He's right. I did lose it that day. Looking back, I blame it on everything that past year had built up inside me. Still, no excuse. Thank goodness none of the boys or that idiot down in Boone reported it.

  “I won't go after Birmingham,” I grumble, admitting defeat.

  “Or Whit.”

  I shoot him a glare. Of course this asshole is getting technical to make sure I don't find a loophole in his whole 'Save Trey from himself' plan.

  “Or the sociopath Whit.”

  “Good. Now there's something else I've been thinking about, and those marks on Randi's neck solidified my decision. I want her to meet Sarah.”

  My eyes round with shock. “What?” He's never, not once, allowed his fierce wife to mix with his business. His take is our job makes it too easy for someone to notice and gain leverage over him, but I think it's because he doesn't want the whole team to know he's fucking whipped by that woman. Hell, I would be too if I were married to her.

  “Last night, Randi mentioned wanting to learn to fight. At the stupid inauguration thing while you were outside playing the avoidance card.”

  “Touché.”

  “She needs to learn how to fight back. I'll crush her, you'll just end up fucking her, and if one of the guys touches her, you'll kill them, so that leaves the only other person I can trust.”

  I nod at the full truth in his statement. Damn, this is why this man is our team lead. He sees everything, processes it quickly, and does what needs to be done. I miss him in a way, miss the back-and-forth we used to have before Randi. I don't blame her for it, but my pull to her inadvertently changed my relationship with Tank. Not for the worse, just different. Hell, I'm different. There's more at stake now, less room for error.

  “Then do it,” I finally say. The pads of my fingers rap along the counter over and over as I process everything he's said. “Think it’ll be enough?”

  “Dunno.” He shrugs while shoving another handful of processed carbs into his mouth. “She has us, but knowing how to defend herself is also a new priority. Who knows what this city has up its sleeve for that girl?”

  “Fuck.” I press my elbows onto the stone and run both hands through my thick dark hair. “We'll be ready, and so will she,” I whisper, repeating it over and over in my mind like a mantra.

  We have to be.

  Nothing can happen to that amazing woman upstairs.

  If something does, I'm not sure I'd survive it.

  Chapter Four

  Randi

  February

  I pace the length of the VP office, located just down the hall from Señor Douche’s, where he’s no doubt sitting back doing nothing except plotting more ways to ruin my life.

  Huh. I slow my steps to search the ceiling as I run that line over in my head once more. Maybe people are right and I’m where Tae gets her dramatics. Eh, I’m not that bad. A single shoulder rises in indifference to my internal debate. Doesn't matter if I'm overreacting or not. The guy is a grade-A asshole and needs to be taken down.

  “Being a massive arrogant prick should be listed as reasons for impeachment,” I mutter around the ragged thumbnail between my teeth. “It would make my life easier right now.”

  “Aiming for the president’s seat, are you?” I startle at Todd's voice, having completely forgotten he was in here.

  I shake my head and pick up my pacing once again. “No, I don’t want that kind of responsibility. Hell, I’ve barely survived a month into the VP role.” My stomach twists with the simple reminder of all the shit I have on my plate. “That said, he still needs to go.”

  “Can't have both,” Todd mutters and crosses his legs. My gaze falls to his crotch, and not in a good way. I never understood how men could sit like that. Doesn't it squish important man bits? Or maybe it’s that his bits are too small for him to notice the squishing.

  “Not that I want to find out,” I say, pulling my attention from his lap to the large overstuffed bookshelf. Half are mine, and the other half I inherited with the office. I scan the rows and rows of hardbacks, a sense of comfort settling over me.

  “What was that?” My loose dark hair swishes along my upper back as I shake my head, dismissing his question. It’s not like I was talking to him anyway. “Anyway, as I was saying before you got lost in your head”—whoops—“we're leaving for the G7 summit in two days. Are you prepared for the various meetings?”

  “Yep,” I say, giving him two thumbs-up. No idea why I did that.

  His eyes widen, and a hint of a smile pulls up the corners of his lips.

  I like Todd. He's a nice guy, but that's where it stops. We've worked together side by side preparing for the upcoming summit for the past week, and he’s been the perfect gentleman. Which is great since he’s a hard no in my book. It's not that he's bad-looking, just not my kind of good-looking. His super-thin frame makes me think his pant size is smaller than mine, his delicate fingers have a slight tremble to them when he's nervous, and his petite nose and wide eyes are not what I find attractive.

  What I do find attractive just walked into the office without knocking.

  Damn, he's sexy. Tailored suit that fits his muscular frame, dark thick hair I'm dying to run my fingers through, honey brown eyes that somehow twinkle when they meet my own, and of course that smirk. That damn sexy, mischievous smirk that hooked me from the moment he pulled me out of the burning limo last year.

  I narrow my eyes at Trey, which only makes his smirk grow into a full megawatt smile. The past few days, he's done this several times. Interrupting the meetings with Todd for lame reasons, most of which could've waited, almost like he's just checking up on me. But that’s crazy, because we’re just friends now, and he’d have no reason to be jealous of me spending time alone with Todd.

  Right?

  “The consultant I suggested is here to meet with you, ma'am.”

  My lips purse, making his split into a full-on smile. Bastard. He knows I hate that ‘ma'am’ shit.

  “Thanks, we're almost done.” I hold back from sticking my tongue out.

  With a single nod, his eyes roam to Todd, who’s too busy studying the papers in his lap to notice Trey’s scrutiny. I raise both brows and tilt my head, flicking my gaze between the two men. A smug look washes over Trey’s features as he tucks his hands behind his back, widening his stance like he'll be here a while.

  Pushy bastard.

  I shouldn't say that about him, considering said pushy bastard is saving my ass by introducing me to this consultant, Jessica Hawthorne. Hopefully, fingers and toes crossed, she can assist in getting things moving in DC while I'm flying around the globe meeting with various world leaders and trying not to use the wrong dinner fork.

  “Do you want to have dinner tonight?” Todd asks, his words quick, voice tight.

  “Sure,” I mutter as I scavenge my desk for the list of items I created earlier this morning to cover with Miss Hawthorne. “Know any place good? I'm still learning where to go in this city.” After pulling a slim manila folder from the stack, I thumb through the
few pages tucked inside.

  “I do. Pick you up at eight?”

  I'm about to say “sure” when someone clears their throat, drawing my attention away from the task at hand. Trey stands beside Todd, his hands fisted at his sides while his face is a mask of stone.

  “Send the information to her secretary and we'll get her there,” he says, eyes boring holes into my own. Hints of flush dot his normally flawless cheeks, and the muscles of his jaw pulse like he's holding back from saying more.

  “Whatever he says,” I mutter to Todd while pointing the folder in my hand at Trey. “He's the boss. See you tonight, Todd.”

  Mindlessly, I maneuver around the desk and fold into the comfortable upholstered armchair. The cushion sinks down, molding around me as I adjust my weight trying to get comfortable. Behind me, the door clicks closed, signaling Todd’s departure.

  Focused on preparing for the next meeting, I don't notice anything amiss until a looming presence snags my attention. Slowly I slide my gaze up Trey’s lean frame.

  “Can I help you?” I raise both brows, not understanding the obvious frustration pulsing off his tense body.

  “You said yes.” The words were more of a hiss than syllables.

  “Yeah, and?” Seriously, what is wrong with him today? It's dinner. Everyone eats, and honestly, I need to get out of that house. This past month has been nothing but worry and work and more work. I deserve a good dinner and a bottle or two of wine. Actually, the more I think about it, of course I said yes, I need a few hours of not feeling like the world is pressing on my shoulders.

  “You actually like that beanstalk?”

  A deep line forms between my brows. The muscle along his clean-shaven jaw twitches. “What's your problem? It's dinner. Do I not get a night where I don't have to worry about all the shit going on around me?”