Power Twist: Power Play Series Book 2

by Mitchell, Kennedy L.

  For a second I freeze, on the brink of ditching my plan and bolting down the hallway. This has to be the craziest idea I've ever had. It might work though. It has to work. Randi can't leave DC, and seeing her in agony felt like my heart was shredding right alongside hers. I'll do whatever I have to do to make sure those sad tears never happen again on my watch. Which is why I’m here. I’m doing whatever it takes, even if it means stepping back into the life I’ve tried like hell to run from.

  “Not that I'm unhappy to see you, Trey, but what are you doing here?” Her blonde hair swishes as she turns to look into the condo. “It's almost midnight,” she says, turning back, eyes wide. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” She's opened the door wider, revealing all of her scantily clad body.

  I swallow and stare into the condo behind her. If Randi ever gets wind of this, I'll be a eunuch for sure.

  “Can I come in? We need to talk.”

  She motions me into the condo. I scan the modern living room and open kitchen. It's almost an exact replica to mine five floors up. Hers doesn't have the view of the Capitol, but not many do because of the cost factor involved for those select units.

  “Wine?” she asks, making her way into the kitchen.

  Fuck, why doesn’t she put on a robe or something? Not that I'm fighting an emotional response based on her nearly naked body. Nope, my dick is as limp as an overcooked noodle. Randi did that. Somehow her crazy mixed with her natural beauty have formed some kind of shield, making attraction to other women nonexistent. And amped up my jealousy a thousand percent.

  Stretching left and then right, I attempt to ease my stiff muscles. “No, thanks. Can you put something else on?”

  “I thought you liked red?” The clink of glass against stone sounds through the living room. I don’t turn from where I stand staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  Ignoring her question, I lean a shoulder against the cold glass, watching the remaining snowflakes whirl past on the strong wind.

  “You have to have a guess as to why I’m here,” I say with a sigh. “After the meeting with Randi—”

  “Randi, is it?” she says, surprise in her tone. “A bit personal, don't you think? You’re referring to the first female vice president this country has ever had. Are you intentionally trying to undermine her title by calling her by her first name?”

  “What?” I’m shocked at the defensiveness Jessica is showing for my girl. “No, she asks us to call her that, just like you. No disrespect, promise.”

  “Good, because I like her. In way over her head, but I like her.”

  Interesting. Even the political ladder climber has fallen under Randi’s spell. Not surprised. If you get to know her, the real Randi, it’s impossible not to.

  “She told me about the meeting earlier. I know we're behind on the votes we need in the House and Senate. I also know you're working to get more people on our side, but with Birmingham's connections and no doubt bribery and blackmail, this vote will go through unless we do something big.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  I glare at the shuffling sound behind me and immediately regret it. Sprawled back along a crimson chaise lounge, Jessica swirls the red wine, eyes locked on mine. Ugh, she’s pulling out all the stops tonight, isn’t she? Wonder if she’d be this forward if she knew Randi and I are together. Too bad she can’t. No one can.

  “Not what, but who.”

  Her brows shoot up her forehead. “You’re joking,” she says after a minute. “Our parents?” I tip my chin in acknowledgment. “There’s no way they’d do anything without some kind of benefit for them. What are you willing to offer them, your soul?” She laughs and breaks our stare. “You know they probably created the insane bill with Kyle, right?”

  I glide my fingers through the lengthy part of my hair, tugging at the ends. “I know. Fuck, I know. But we can't let this vote go through. It’ll kill her.”

  “Why do you care so much?” Suspicion creeps into her voice. “What’s in it for you?”

  “Nothing’s in it for me except supporting her cause. And to answer your earlier question, yeah, I know they’ll want something in return.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “We give them what they both want.”

  Seconds tick by with her brows furrowed in concentration. “Oh,” she gasps, finally realizing what I'm referencing. “You'd do that? Something you've fought against for years, all for Randi, for her cause?”

  “For our country,” I bite out. She can't know how much Randi means to me or that Randi's the sole reason I'm offering up myself like a sacrificial lamb.

  My agitation and sliver of despair at what I’m about to do urge my need for a drink. I stomp to the wet bar and search through the various bottles of bourbon before settling on Blanton’s. “Go put some damn clothes on, Jessica. We need to go over my plan. It’ll be a long night for both of us.”

  * * *

  The puddles of melted snow splash beneath my boots as I march up the walkway, the remaining bits of yesterday’s storm disappearing thanks to the sweeping spring temperatures that followed like predicted. The warm sun, budding trees, and the crispness of a fresh start swirl in the sweet-smelling air. A fresh start for everyone but me. Hell, every breath feels like dark poison seeping into my lungs, crippling the ability to breathe normally.

  I continue walking through the pain, knowing it's all for her. I can do this for Randi. Anything to shift that dark cloud that's hung over her head since the meeting with Jessica. Randi and I did come up with a solid plan to gain more votes, but it wasn’t enough, so I stopped by Jessica’s last night and made a deal with her, which leads me here today.

  This town is all about who you know and your family name—and the money tied to it. If I don't do this, if I don't step in, she’ll lose the vote, then lose her confidence. And then I’ll lose her.

  That can't happen.

  Even if it costs me everything.

  At the door, I pause and take a deep inhale through my nose, calming the growing agitation at just being on this property. After a quick knock, I dig my hands into the front pockets of my jeans as I wait for the butler to answer.

  That's right, I knock at my parents’ house. This is my childhood home—not that I was here much between boarding school and lavish family vacations—yet here I am knocking on the fucking door like a vacuum salesman.

  Fuck, I hate my pompous parents. To think I could've grown up to be exactly like them. If it weren't for the last-minute decision to go to college on the West Coast, I would have. There, without their daily oversight and the impact of my family name, reality set in, making me realize how ludicrous our lifestyle and way of thinking really were. It was that clarity which caused me to dig my heels in, stopping their constant control over my life, and join the army.

  College and the military. Those two decisions not only shifted me from an undeniably miserable life but also led me to the two people who would eventually make my life one worth living. Tank and Mess.

  I won't let them down. A deep ache creeps into my heart just at the thought of either of them being disappointed in me. Tank jokes about my desperate need for approval and love, and maybe he's right. The loveless childhood I was raised in made me desperate for it. Maybe that's why I stayed with Rachel as long as I did. Even if it wasn’t love, at least we pretended well together. Now though, after Randi, that's not enough. Fuck, it's not nearly enough.

  I want—no, I deserve someone who's desperate for me. The real me, not the money or the name, but me, Trey. That’s what Randi has shown me. That I am enough, for anyone. I might not deserve her or the trust and loyalty she easily hands over, but I for fucking sure will do whatever I can to never let her down.

  The large solid dark oak door swings open on silent hinges. A familiar sour face scowls back at me from the other side.

  “Ah, Gerard. Long time no see, man. How's life treating you?”

  The old man purses his lips, fighting a smile. Ger
ard and his wife have been with my parents since I was a kid. Any kind word or encouragement was given by those two instead of my own parents. They were the type of parents I wish I would've had. Loving, considerate, grounded.

  “Sir, welcome home.”

  Ugh, now I see why Randi hates the formal shit. I already feel older.

  “It's Trey, and I'm not home.” I pat the old man's thin shoulder as I step over the threshold. “Just stopping by to talk to the overlords.”

  Gerard covers his laugh with a fake cough, pressing a fist to his lips. He knows there's no love lost between me and my parents. Hell, he's not a fan of them either. But this job is steady, and from what he says, they pay well with great benefits, so he puts up with a lot.

  “Your parents are waiting for you in the sunroom. Beth prepared coffee and tea for the meeting.”

  “And her cookies?” I ask, allowing a childlike hopeful tone to seep through.

  Gerard smiles. “Of course.” With a wave of his hand, he directs me toward the sunroom at the back of the mansion where my fate will be determined. “How's the new VP?” he asks as we walk along sparkling hardwood floors, going down one hallway and then another.

  “Good. She's going to make a difference for the people who need it most.”

  He hums a response but doesn't say another word as we continue our trek. At the sunroom doors, he pauses with his hand on the knob. Facing me straight on, he narrows those gray eyes at me.

  “I don't know why you're here, Trey, but if the look on your face is any indication, it's not good.”

  I swallow hard and clear my throat, fighting against the rising nerves that always come with being in this house. “It’s not, but she needs my help. I’m out of options.”

  “Ah, it's always a woman, isn't it? The one who challenges us and pushes us to be better men. Whatever you need, if we can help, just ask. We're always here for you.”

  Agh, this man and the emotions he's stirring. My eyes sting, but I blink away the wetness before nodding.

  “Thanks, Gerard. You and Beth, well, you're the only reason I survived long enough to get out of here. Now it's my time to do something great, to make a difference.”

  “You're a good boy,” he says, gripping my bicep and giving it a tight squeeze. “Never forget that.”

  At that, he twists the knob and gently urges the door open. Sunlight pours through the wall of windows and pockets of glass ceiling. After the long walk through the darker house, I blink through the initial assault on my sensitive eyes. Squinting, I scan the room, pausing on my mother sitting on the white chaise, magazine in one hand and steaming teacup in the other. I search for my father but come up empty.

  “Come in, darling,” Mother coos. “Your father will join us when he can.”

  With one more look to Gerard, I tip my chin and stride into the proverbial lion’s den.

  A soft clink echoes around the otherwise quiet room as Mom sets her teacup back into its matching saucer and rests the thick magazine in her lap. Her eyes trail up and down my body, lips pursing, no doubt finding my attire lacking.

  “Mother.” I lean down to kiss her offered cheek. “You're looking well.”

  “Aren't I?” she says with a smile.

  It's not a lie. She looks fantastic. No one would guess her real age of sixty-two. Her blonde hair, which used to be natural, is styled in long flowing waves cascading over her shoulder. Even though it appears she has minimal makeup on, I know it took her hours this morning to perfect the look and the real woman is buried under layers of product.

  I really shouldn't poke the bear since I'm here asking for their help, but I can't help it. It’s too easy. And fun.

  “New filler?” I ask while pointing to her slightly overplump lips.

  Her brow furrows—well, as much as it can with the billions of units of Botox in her face. Just the sight of her immobile features makes me chuckle, which pisses her off even more.

  “Always a pleasure, my son.” I barely hold back a shiver at that title coming from her fat lips. “You said you wanted to discuss something with your father and me, so I'd watch your comments if I were you.”

  With a one-shoulder shrug, I turn and make my way to the puke green love seat and flop onto the stiff cushions. Stretching my arms out wide, I relax back and smile.

  “Where is my biological father?”

  “Your only father,” she snaps in a rare display of annoyance. Quickly she schools her features back into the appearance of pristine calm. “And as I said, he will be with us when he can. He had business to attend to.”

  “Right, well, this is pointless if he's not here, so I'll just grab a couple cookies and be off, then.” I slap the tops of my thighs in a signal that the meeting is done, even though it never actually started, and lean forward to swipe a few chocolate chip cookies from the tray.

  “Tell me why you're here. I can make decisions alone. We don't need your father here.”

  The still-warm cookie melts in my mouth. My eyes close as I chew, my only happy childhood memories flooding back at the familiar taste. I've been all over the world, eaten in almost every country, but these cookies right here are still the best things I've ever eaten.

  Well, except Randi.

  A smile quirks up the side of my lips at just the thought of her.

  “Why are you here, Trey?” Father’s bored voice booms at my back.

  I fight the urge to sit up straighter and stand as a sign of respect, which was drilled into me since I could walk.

  “Here to reconsider our terms we discussed so you don’t have to give up your lavish lifestyle?” Mom pipes up. “I knew just the thought of living on a regular wage would set you straight.”

  “I have a proposition for you two,” I mumble around another cookie. Mom's eyes narrow and I roll mine. “The H.R. 13 bill that's about to roll through the House and possibly the Senate, what do you know about it?”

  Their eyes meet briefly in silent conversation.

  “Enough. What about it?” Dad asks cautiously.

  “It's wrong on too many levels to count, that’s what. I want to stop it from passing.”

  Mom's high-pitched, obnoxious laugh grates on my already tense nerves. I clench my jaw to keep from saying something I'll regret. Whether I like it or not, I need their help.

  “It makes sense, son,” Dad says. He unbuttons his suit jacket and folds into the chair opposite of me. “The poor, they don't understand what goes into running the government or who would be best at the job. This is in their best interest, allowing the burden to fall on our shoulders instead of theirs. We're helping them, not hurting.”

  The muscles of my jaw twitch as I work it back and forth. They actually believe that load of shit.

  “It's their constitutional right to vote, for everyone to vote.”

  Mom waves a dismissive hand. “That old document, is it even relevant anymore?”

  Mouth gaping, I stare at my delusional mother. She must be high on prescription drugs or something. I hope that’s the reason and not that she believes the Constitution that our country was founded on is just an old worthless document.

  “Yes, it's relevant.” I say each word slow to make sure she understands, then glance to Dad. “It's wrong to deny an American citizen the right to vote.”

  “Felons can't. How is this different?”

  Holy fuck, am I glad I left my gun at home.

  “Now you're just trying to piss me off,” I grit out, glaring at him. His smirk—my smirk—tells me I hit the nail on the head. “Can you stop it?”

  “Depends,” Mom chirps. “What are you willing to offer in exchange?”

  “What you want,” I say with as much venom as I can muster. “After this presidential term, I'll jump back into politics. I'll….” I swallow and lean forward to grip the glass of water from the silver tray. After a quick sip, I rest both elbows on my knees, gripping the slick glass between both hands. “I'll leave the secret service.”

  Mom laughs and look
s to Dad before turning back to me. “You think you can just waltz back onto the circuit and expect to go anywhere? You're a no one in our circles nowadays.”

  I nod, knowing that would come up. That’s why Jessica was my first stop, to make sure she was on board for her role in my life.

  “I've discussed a plan with Jessica Hawthorne.” I pause, flicking my gaze between the two.

  Mom leans forward, interest piqued. “What kind of plan?”

  Shit, this is the part I'm looking forward to the least. I fight the urge to pace the room. There’s no room for showing weakness here.

  “I'll make the rounds at various fundraisers and events with Jessica, as a couple.” I swallow back the bile rising in my throat. “A fake couple, mind you. She's well aware this is us using each other. There is no future for us together except politically. Jessica will reintroduce me to the right people to get my name back in the game, and I'll allow her to use our family name as backing when needed. It's a win-win for both of us.”

  The snakelike smile Mom gives in return drops a weight of dread in my stomach. I'm playing with fire while doused in gasoline here, but this is my only shot at helping Randi. At keeping her in DC. I have to take it.

  “What’s made you such the bleeding heart as of late?” Mother asks, her conniving smile growing.

  “I'm no bleeding heart, you know that, but I also see how wrong this bill is for many Americans. I can't let it pass without doing whatever it takes to make it stop.”

  “Interesting. And it has nothing to do with the trash that's currently residing in One Observatory Circle?”

  “Watch it, Mother,” I say, just barely holding back the contempt from my tone. “That's your vice president you're talking about.”

  Mom huffs and crosses her arms. “Not my vice president. She doesn’t deserve to be in that role, have that title.” Tilting her head, she stares out the windows.

  The room grows quiet as I give them time to think it all over. With them distracted, I sneak another cookie. Or two.