Power Twist: Power Play Series Book 2

by Mitchell, Kennedy L.

  “End of the year,” Mother says, breaking the silence. “I want you to leave the secret service by the end of the year.”

  “No.” I shake my head for emphasis. “End of this term or no deal. I've committed myself, and I won't break the cohesive team we've built before then.”

  Sweat builds along my spine and dots my forehead. I raise the glass to my lips and drain the contents. The two stay silent as I roll the now-empty glass between my hands.

  “The deal’s off if you can't stop the bill from being passed,” I state.

  “Deal’s off if you go back on anything you've promised,” Mom retorts. “And if you do back out, then we officially cut you off from pulling your trust monthly and inheritance.”

  My breath stills in my lungs. Fuck, I didn't think she'd go that big. For the past few years, they've laid out an ultimatum of pulling access to my trust fund but never followed through. Something tells me this time they wouldn't hesitate. And fuck if I'm not worried. A lot worried, actually. Living on a normal salary, an agent salary… hell, that would suck. It’s what I make now but all my extra expenses are paid by the Benson trust, the one Mother has threatened to take away on more than one occasion.

  Would Randi even want to stay with me if that were the case?

  I shake my head to clear the thought. Of course she would. She wanted me even before she knew about the money. Actually, she might not even really know the extent of the wealth at my disposal, so of course Randi wouldn't care if I lost it all. But I would. I love my bikes, my fancy-ass condo with the million-dollar view. Love the feel of a custom-made suit and the taste of a thousand-dollar bottle of bourbon. I'm not a pompous ass like my parents, but I sure as hell was raised with a platinum spoon and would prefer to keep that lifestyle.

  But for Randi?

  For us?

  I'll give it all up. What they don’t need to know is that my plan ends at the end of the term. No me moving into the political limelight like I’m promising. This is how you play this game, promising one thing and then delivering another. It’s a constant trade of power, and right now I’m holding the cards.

  Rolling my shoulders, I lean back against the couch. “Agreed. You get the votes and you get me in four years.”

  Mom claps her hands and leans forward. “This is wonderful news. Welcome back, son. Now let's discuss this,” she says, twirling a finger in the direction of my face. “A fair amount of work needs to be done to get you ready.”

  Instead of responding, I snatch two more cookies off the tray and shove them into my mouth. And because I’m a little shit, I dust the crumbs off my fingers on the ugly-as-hell couch.

  “Not a chance,” I say around the mouthful of partially chewed-up cookie. “Jessica has the list of events we'll attend, so I'm all set to keep up my end of the bargain.” At the door, I look over my shoulder and smirk. “Now you go do yours.”

  Chapter Nine

  Randi

  May

  I'm dying. Once again the floor rushes up close, my back slamming onto the cushioned surface. The hours have crawled by, yet here I am enduring this torture.

  The heavy weight of exhaustion pulls at my arms; I’m barely able to lift them to defend myself from another attack. My ass throbs all over from how many times I've fallen on it, like now. Sweat drips down my temples, streaming to my chin. Fuck, I hope I remembered to put deodorant on this morning. If not, maybe I won't have to worry about defending myself against Sarah. She'll get a whiff and go running on her own.

  I squeeze my eyes shut to keep the sweat from pouring into them.

  “Get up,” the strong female voice says above me.

  I shake my head and tap the mat with as much force as I can muster. “I'm out. I can't do this.”

  “It's been thirty minutes.” There's no mistaking the annoyance and exasperation in her voice. “Get up and try again.”

  “Why?” I nearly whine. “You're just going to knock me on my ass again. I'm tired of being on my back.”

  “Not what I heard,” Sarah says. Squinting my eyes open, I find her standing over me, smiling. That smile drops as she looks across the room. “Baby, I can't do this. She's weak. Plus I thought you said she wanted to learn.” With the toe of her black tennis shoe, she nudges my sore ribs. “She's not even trying.”

  I grit my teeth to keep from responding only because I'm legit scared she'll kill me if I mouth off. T's wife is not only gorgeous but deadly. It's sexy in an 'I might die' kind of way, which apparently I'm into, considering my attraction to Trouble.

  “Listen,” I say with a grimace as I push off the blue mat to my elbows. “I've never done this before, okay?”

  “Obviously.” Her dark eyes narrow as they scan me from head to toe. “Have you ever even lifted a weight?”

  “On purpose?” I ask, holding back my smile.

  Sarah's lips twitch in a suppressed smirk. With a sigh, she reaches out her hand, which I grasp, allowing her to haul me upright. “Yes, on purpose.” Again she looks across the room to the two men who are basically eating popcorn while they watch this mess of a training session. “You need to get her on some kind of workout routine before I can do anything. Cardio, weights, and core. She's weak.”

  “I would take that as an insult, but it's true,” I say with a shrug, then wince at the pain that bolts through my shoulder at the movement. “I am slightly embarrassed. Last year was all about gaining weight, not really anything else. I had this special diet that Kyle put me on, which helped.” My sweaty palms slide along my fuller waist and hips. “You should've seen me before.”

  Kyle said I looked like a meth addict, and he wasn't far off. Somehow during my lifetime, balancing between poverty and the lower class, food always took the back seat. Plus when I'm stressed, I can't eat—just the thought of it is revolting—so yeah, I was slightly underweight before Kyle's dietitian helped out. Now I'm full in all the right places. Padding around my hips, thin waist but not in the sickly way it was before, and somehow my ass has rounded to a perfect shape. I should write a quick thank-you note to the ass gods for that one.

  “Now we add in adding muscle,” Sarah says with a sharp slap to my ass. I yelp and hop out of her reach. “Keep up with the diet, but ask them to add in more protein. You'll need it.”

  “I'll get her a workout routine written up,” Trey says behind me. I look over my shoulder to where he leans against the far wall. “Three days a week?”

  “Four,” Sarah quickly responds. “One of those days needs to be dedicated to core. If she can't protect herself, then all this is a waste. And honey,” she says, pointing to Trey, “I ain't got time to waste.”

  His shoulders tighten and I swear he stands a bit straighter. “Yes, ma'am.”

  “Fuck, baby, you look good in those shorts.” Eyes only on Sarah, T steps onto the mat and wraps both hands around her bare waist, then slides lower, palming her generous ass over her tight shorts. “My shift ends in two hours, and I can't wait—”

  “La, la, la la,” I yell, putting my fingers into my ears. “I don't want to hear that.”

  “Jealous?” Sarah says, leaning in and wrapping her arms around T's thick neck.

  “Yes,” I shout while stomping my foot. “He's the one who….” Hmm, how do I say this? “I can't have what I want because of him.”

  “What or who?” Sarah says with a knowing wink. “T's a gossip, Randi. I know all about you and the man child over there.” She tilts her head toward Trey in the corner, her long dark braid swinging along her back with the motion. “Believe me, I'm on your side.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “We've talked about this, baby,” T says into her ear. “Don't get in the middle of my work and I won't get into the middle of yours.”

  With a single push, Sarah detaches from T. His eyes narrow, but an intense heat flares behind them. Sarah steps left. T steps right. The two circle the mat, eyes only on each other. T shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it on the ground befor
e working his tie off and adding it to the pile.

  A warm hand rests on my shoulder and tugs me backward.

  “Best to stay out of their way. This is their foreplay,” Trey whispers into my ear. “I shouldn't say anything, but fuck, you stink, Mess.”

  I relish the pain the quick movement causes me as my shoulder pops up into Trey's jaw.

  “Oops.”

  “Oh, you'll pay for that later.” His nose skims up my neck as he takes an exaggerated whiff. “After you shower, of course.”

  “Kick his ass, Sarah,” I yell, trying to distract myself from Trey's presence behind me.

  “Hey.” T pouts without taking his eyes off his wife. “Don't gang up on me.”

  “You’re the one who put the stupid hands-off rule in place,” Sarah jumps in, defending me.

  “Yeah!” I shout. A low chuckle sounds behind me.

  “You know that man child wouldn't do anything stupid, yet you laid down a line in the sand because you need to control everything.”

  “Honey, stop while you’re ahead,” T grumbles.

  Sarah's footsteps pause. Her body shifts, preparing to attack. In an instant she's on T. Every punch she throws, he defends, but he doesn't take his own shots. It's clear to see he's holding back. He's nearly double her size; even if she's trained by our military’s best, she's no match for the Terminator.

  “He won't hurt her,” Trey mumbles behind me.

  “This happens a lot, I'm guessing?”

  Trey huffs. “Their living room is a gym with sparring pads spread throughout. So yeah, this happens every time I'm over.” Resting my chin on my shoulder, I look back to find his eyes already on me. “I made them stop doing this shit at my place last year after they broke a fucking couch. Animals,” he adds at the end with a smile that only has love behind it.

  “You guys are together a lot, then, the three of you?”

  A pang of jealousy settles into my stomach before rising up my chest. I glance back to the two still going at it on the mat. What would it be like to have that kind of friendship, have a makeshift family like these three have? Suddenly the feeling of being the outsider slinks through my veins.

  Nervously I nibble on my thumbnail. “I'm going to take a shower,” I mumble as I step toward the door.

  “Hey,” Trey says, following. “What just happened?”

  At the door, I look back to where T now has Sarah pinned beneath him with her arms stretched above her head. I shake my head and continue out the door toward my room.

  “Talk to me, Mess.”

  “I don't know. I'm just sad.”

  “About the bill?”

  I shake my head, the tip of my ponytail swiping from one shoulder to the other. “No, that,” I say, hooking a thumb backward toward the workout room. “You, those two, the friendship. I've never really had that, with anyone. I have Tae to talk to, but she's all I have.” I stop suddenly at the bottom of the stairs. Trey's arms shoot out, gripping the banister and wall to keep from running into me. My tennis shoes squeak against the polished hardwood floor as I swivel around to face him. “I'm jealous, I guess, more than sad. Or sad because I've never had a chance to build a friendship like what you have with T. I want that. I want someone I can count on, that I can joke around with, have inside jokes with.”

  His head tilts, stray dark locks sliding across his forehead nearly swiping his eyebrows. “Isn't that what you have with me?”

  “That doesn't count.” I sigh. Leaning forward, I rest my forehead on his chest. “We're, well, you know.”

  “That doesn’t mean we're not friends too. Do you have fun when we're together?”

  I tilt my face up to meet his searching eyes. “You know I do.”

  “Listen, just because we have a physical side to our relationship doesn't mean we don't have a friendship too. Look at Tank and Sarah. They're best friends and married. Ask either of them. I'm the third wheel in their friendship, and I'm okay with that. I'm happy for my friends that they have what they have. Hell, I'm jealous most days. To be married to your best friend, to laugh more than you fight and to have the one person you're committed to for life be the one person you can't wait to see every day. What a life, right?”

  Well shit.

  Trey Benson, one billion.

  Randi Sawyer's heart, zero.

  Before I do something stupid like seal my lips against his and wrap my legs around his waist, I sit on the stairs and lean back.

  “That would be amazing.” My sweat-damp leggings slide against the wooden stair as I shift on my sore ass. “Never thought it was possible, really. Didn't have a great example growing up, you know.”

  Palm against my hip, he slides me across the wide step, pressing me to the wall and making room for him to sit down. “Me either. My parents are miserable and barely say a handful of words to each other, and those are all in public to keep up appearances. It wasn't until I saw Tank and Sarah together that I realized it is possible.”

  Silence fills the stairwell as we both sit deep in thought.

  “Honestly, I never thought I'd find someone I'd enjoy being around who also put up with my version of crazy,” I admit. Elbows on the step at my back, I relax my neck, allowing my head to dangle between my shoulders. “Or be touchy with.”

  “Touchy?” Humor and confusion mix in Trey's voice.

  “Yeah, until you—and I'm getting more comfortable with T too—I've always had this… I don't know, a timer that starts the second anyone touches me. After ten seconds or so, it goes off and the person's touch just irks me.”

  “I don't understand.”

  “I don't either. I've been thinking a lot about it since meeting you though, wondering why you're so different. Even when you were a raging ass, I wasn't revolted by your touch.”

  “Guess we're meant to be.” His shoulder nudges mine, a broad smile spreading across his handsome face.

  Fuck, I could get lost in those sparkling eyes, could stare at that face forever and never grow bored.

  Hold up.

  Forever?

  Who said anything about forever here? I don't even love the guy. It's just fun being sneaky, and the orgasms are mind-blowing. But love? No.

  Right?

  “Have you thought about why you're that way?” he asks. “Did something happen as a kid?”

  “I think….” Huh. For the first time ever, my internal conversation’s answer matches the external one. Must be a full moon thing or something. “I never had it as a kid. Never witnessed it either, so I don't know how to accept it.”

  “But you do from me.”

  “I do. I crave it, actually. And not just the sexy stuff. Even the simplest touches make me feel… I don't know, whole.”

  Trey's eyes widen. His mouth opens, but not a single sound comes out.

  Great, I said something wrong. Now he’s thinking I'm trying to rush him down the aisle or something. Fuck. Backtrack, Randi.

  “I mean, it's nothing. Whatever,” I say in a rush. “I'm cool. Who needs to be whole anyway?”

  Fuck. I’m a lost cause. Just put me down. Send me out to pasture.

  There's no recovering from this.

  “When I touch you,” Trey whispers, his voice barely audible in the quiet stairwell, “it's all that matters. You're life, Mess.” Looking away, he groans and drops his head. His fingers massage the back of his neck. “Hey, listen, I need to tell you something. Fuck, I hope you don't Bobbitt me—”

  Pounding footsteps cut off his words. Before I can blink, he’s standing and ready to intercept the racing agent.

  “Where is she?” Grem huffs.

  Trey steps aside, allowing Grem a visual of where I sit on the stairs. Hand raised, I wiggle my fingers in an awkward-as-hell wave. Seriously, what is wrong with me?

  “It's Taeler.”

  Time stands still as my mind processes his words. Above me, the two men talk, their voices rising with each passing second.

  Suddenly a cell phone is shoved in my face. I blink
at the screen before glancing up to Trey.

  “She's on the phone. Take it, Randi. We'll listen in through another line.” Grabbing the phone from Grem's extended hand, Trey yanks me off the step with a single pull. The world trembles as my legs revolt against holding my weight. Not wasting any time, Trey hauls me down the hall while pressing the phone to my ear.

  “Tae?” I question. “What the hell is going on?”

  “I don't know.” My pulse spikes, dread sinking deep in my gut at her rushed, labored breaths. Panic flashes through my veins, reviving my expended energy.

  “Talk to me, Taeler. What's going on? Why did you call?”

  “I think someone… someone is following me. I don't know. I don't know, Mom,” she cries. Car horns honking and the sounds of a busy street pour through the phone. “Something felt off. It still feels off. Fuck, I don't know where to go.”

  “Where is your security team?” I demand.

  “Not with me.”

  Fury mixes with the growing panic. “You snuck out!”

  “I’m downtown. I don’t want to go back to the dorms where they are. Mom, I'm scared.”

  Those two words cut my heart. Pain like I've never experienced grips my soul, making my steps falter. A heavy arm wraps around my shoulders, but I shrug it off. I need to think, not be comforted while my baby is in danger.

  Fucking think, Randi.

  Pacing the length of the hall outside of the security office, I mentally flip through the options we have.

  “Tiny,” I say on a hushed breath. “Tiny. Go see Tiny. Tell him who you are and that you need help. He'll take care of you until the agents can get there. Until I get there.”

  “The guy you used to talk about?”

  I nod even though she can't see me. “That one.” I wince at the stinging pain radiating from my thumbnail. The coppery tang of blood hits the tip of my tongue. “Hoodwink Tattoos on Sixth Street. He'll be there. He's always there.” Turning on my heels, I race back down the hall and up the stairs, taking them two by two. Panting, side pinching with lack of oxygen, I shove open my bedroom door and run to the closet.