Power Play: Power Play Series Book 1

by Mitchell, Kennedy L.

  “You. What's your angle?”

  I tilt my chin higher to get a better look at his face. Not a single emotion displays across his features.

  “My angle?” Leaning forward, I rest both elbows on my thighs. “Whoever hurt you worked you over good. Believe me, I've seen it, been there. If you're still this raw over it, I'm guessing it was recent.”

  His lips purse, flattening into a thin line.

  “Right, you don't want to talk about it. That's cool, I get it. But to answer your question, I don't have an angle. Well….” I sigh and straighten my spine. “That's not true. I do have an angle, but it's not a bad one.”

  “What is it?” If I'm not mistaken, a hint of curiosity lines his voice.

  “I need a friend, okay? I don't have anyone in DC I can trust. It's fucking lonely.”

  Those light brown eyes stop scanning for threats to meet mine. His brows furrow, forming a deep line between them. “You think you can trust me?”

  Tapping the crates with the back of my heels, I shrug. “Yeah, I do, even though you're an ass.”

  He smirks at my words. “Trust is dangerous in politics.” Thumb between my teeth, I chew on the ragged nail, waiting for him to continue. “Friends. I can do that.”

  I release the breath I was holding in a whoosh.

  “Thank fuck.”

  “But we're not braiding each other’s hair—”

  “Obviously. You don't look like you'd be good at it. No offense.”

  “And the second I think you're fucking me over, we're done.” He extends a hand between us. “Trey Benson. Pleased to meet you, friend.”

  I slide my own hand against his callused one. “Randi Sawyer. Nice to meet you, friend.”

  “Tell me your story,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. The buttons of his light blue dress shirt pull under the pressure. “From trailer to vying for the vice president spot. Must be a good one.”

  I snort and take a sip of tequila. The earlier bottle already warms my belly and loosens my normal hindrances of talking about my past.

  “You saw where I grew up, and until Taeler was born, I thought Mom's life was my predestined future. But when I found out I was pregnant, and even more so after she was born, I wanted more for her, more for me. At that point, everything was spiraling out of control. Mom didn't want a baby interrupting her and her boyfriend’s alone time, so she kicked me out to the shed.” Memories flood my mind of the makeshift room slash nursery I created in the old storage shed. An unstoppable shudder shakes my body. Which of course he notices with those all-seeing eyes. “That didn't last long though. Taeler's dad's family stepped in, and… well, that's a whole different story that I don't want to get into.”

  My eyes widen, brows rising in question when he snags the cigarette box from my lap and lights up.

  “Don't look so surprised. I don't know a single person who left the military without some kind of nicotine addiction.”

  “You're a veteran?” Of course he is. Bet you he looks hot as hell in whatever uniform he used to wear. Wonder if he still has it stashed somewhere.

  “I am.”

  “Which branch?”

  “Army.”

  I nod and light another cigarette. “A lot of the guys from my high school went in after graduation. Not a lot of choices unless you got an academic or sports scholarship for college. I was proud of them. I could never be that brave.”

  “Most of the boys under my command were the same. So fucking young.”

  “Oh,” I say with an exhale of smoke. “Of course you were an officer.” So hot.

  “What made you go to UT and then law school? And not just any law school but Harvard?”

  I roll the butt of the cigarette along my lower lip as I debate my response. “Someone told me I'd never amount to anything. That I'd never be more than an addict’s daughter and would live the rest of my life in that same run-down trailer park. I wanted so badly to show them all they were wrong.”

  “I'd say you did.”

  I shake my head and swing my legs back and forth, kicking my heels against the thick plastic crates. “Not at first. When I first came home from law school, I did end up right back in the same trailer park, still broke, and even worse, in serious debt. I could've taken a job in Dallas, but I wanted to be close to Taeler. I’d already missed so much of her life, and I didn't want to miss any more.”

  “What happened?” he asks, taking a step closer. My shoulder brushes against his arm. The heat radiating off him begs me to inch closer. Of course I forgot my jacket upstairs. A strong, crisp fall breeze rips through the alley, racking my shoulders with a deep chill. Sealing the lit cigarette between his lips, Trey shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it across my shoulders.

  “Thanks.” I tug the two sides together making a makeshift cocoon with his jacket. I inhale deep, relishing in the faint scent of him. “What do you mean, what happened?”

  “From being back in that small town with a law degree to running for vice president with dipshit Birmingham.”

  “Ah, that.” Tell the truth or the story we spun for the campaign. I can trust him; we are best friends, after all. “The short version is I ruined his plans for world domination. I'm in over my head though and not really sure of my next move.”

  I glance up, fully expecting him to have more questions about my relationship with Kyle, but find him frowning at something down the alley.

  “Ruined his plan?” I smile when his warm hand slides into mine. With a sharp tug, he yanks me from the stack of crates, causing them to tumble backward. “I need the full version not the short. But first….” Only after lighting up and taking a deep inhale does he motion for me to start. “Now I'm ready.”

  * * *

  “So that's where we are,” I say before taking another large bite from the juiciest double cheeseburger I've ever had. Do I feel bad taking Tank's cheeseburger and making him eat the tiny salad he ordered me? Not one bit. Rule number one, like he and I already covered, if you don't know, ask. If he would've, then he wouldn't be frowning over a plate of rabbit food right now.

  Outside, I covered the basics on how Kyle approached me to be his wife before Trey cut me off, saying it would be best to head back upstairs to eat and let T hear everything too. Now they're both caught up on everything from the cover story to Kyle’s harassment and Shawn's less-than-subtle threats.

  “So, you're not with Birmingham?” Trey asks, disbelief in his tone. He hasn't stopped pacing since we got back up to the room. There’s an ease in the way he moves, one fluid motion. Bet he'd be good in bed, fast and to the point. He doesn’t come off as the cuddling type—another check in the win column for Trouble.

  My eyes drop low, sliding down his body, pausing on his crotch.

  “Randi.”

  I jump, somehow holding back a squeak of surprise. My gaze falls to the carpet in guilt. There’s a slim chance he didn't notice me focused on his package. Peering through my dark lashes, I catch Trey's signature sexy smirk and divert my gaze anywhere other than him.

  Shit. Busted.

  I clear my throat and raise the burger, bringing it close to my lips. “What was the question again?”

  “Are you fucking him?”

  “Wow, so blunt. And no. Ew. Not that he hasn’t tried, the depraved prick.” T and Trey exchange a look. “What?” I ask before sinking my teeth into the cheeseburger.

  I moan as I chew. Delicious.

  “Birmingham said something different,” T says, stroking his bald head. “Last night when he came by your condo.”

  I sort through all the possible reasons he'd do that while I finish chewing the large bite. “He was peeing on me.”

  “The fuck?” Trey says with a disgusted flinch.

  “Not like that. Gross! What kind of shit are you into if that's where your mind goes, hmm?” I waggle a finger in Trey's direction and tsk. “Dirty mind. No, I mean he was marking his territory. But why? Why would Kyle want to keep you guys away from me?�
�

  Trey clears his throat and pauses his pacing. Back against the far wall, he stuffs his large hands into the pockets of his suit. Two undone buttons of the crisp dress shirt pull with the movement, exposing a hint of chest. Why must he look like a mischievous male model? What stupid god did I piss off in life for them to dangle this untouchable hottie in my face?

  It's mean. Wonder if there's a Secret Service suggestion box where I can file a 'please don't hire hotties' request so I’m not tempted on a second by second basis by a man I can’t have. I should look into that.

  “You with us, Randi?” T's deep voice pulls me out of my random thoughts.

  “Yes. Of course I am. Well, maybe… actually, that's a hard no.” I shrug and take another bite. I wink at T's glare as I chew. “It's really good. Thanks.”

  “You and my wife, taking my good food and replacing it with stuff fit for animals.”

  “I said,” Trey interrupts, “before you got lost in your head—”

  “It happens a lot. Get used to it.”

  “I grew up with Birmingham and Whit. Most of the fucksticks in DC, actually.”

  I nod, then shake my head. “Still though, why feel the need to pee on me?”

  “Please stop saying that,” Trey says on a sigh. I can't help but smile at his restrained annoyance. “Birmingham and I, plus Whit, have a rocky past.”

  “Ah, so it's less about me and more about you and Kyle.” Mouth open, prepared to take another bite, I pause. “Wait. Oh hell, are you gay? Did y'all break up or something?”

  “What the—”

  “Now the bitter attitude makes sense. You were jealous, thinking I was sleeping with your ex–boyfriend.”

  Trey races closer, leaping over the coffee table. I shriek in excitement, the half-eaten burger falling forgotten to the plate. He grips the back of the couch on either side of my head, boxing me between his arms. In slow motion, he leans closer, and I sink deeper into the couch in retreat.

  Deep, labored pants fan my face as he hovers inches from my face.

  “Benson. Stop your shit. She didn’t mean it,” T calls out from somewhere in the distance, zero concern in his distracted tone.

  “Take it back, or you'll regret it,” Trey grunts, his almost smile taking the heat from his words.

  “Are you a giver or a taker?” I say around a stifled giggle. Holy hell, it’s hot in here. “I knew you were too pretty to be straight.”

  “There are twenty different ways I could kill you right now. I'm fucking badass, not pretty.”

  “Why does that turn me on?” His eyes widen at my breathy words. My chest rises and falls in quick succession, my pulse racing through my body, heating every inch. “There is something seriously wrong with me.”

  That damn sexy, mischievous smirk tugs at his edible lips. “Or very right.” My breaths come in short pants. His lips brush against the shell of my ear, and I shiver at his raspy low voice. “I’m not gay, but I do love fucking a woman’s nice round ass.”

  Who's wheezing? Shit. Am I wheezing? I'm wheezing.

  What the hell? Sweat slicks my hands. At some point, my stomach slid up my throat and is now lodged there, preventing me from swallowing all the saliva building in my mouth.

  “Get off her,” T says, his words muffled like he's…

  Tearing my lust-filled eyes from Trey's, I catch T as he shoves the last of the cheeseburger into his mouth.

  “Hey.” I pout. “That was mine.” My hand vibrates with Trey's laugh as I shove against his chest to sit up.

  T’s broad shoulders rise and fall in an exaggerated shrug. “You dropped it, five second rule. Now back to business.” The repetitive drumming of his fingers along the side table is the only sound in the quiet suite. Earlier Trey kicked the other agents out so I could tell the story without untrustworthy ears listening. “I'm guessing what happened last night with the accident somehow has to do with Shawn. I'll work on that angle once we get back to DC. It's good you told us; we can better protect you from inside threats now that we know to expect them.”

  “Great,” I say with a yawn. A quick glance to the grandfather clock—because what hotel room doesn’t have one of those—tells me it's just past ten. “As much fun as this has been, I have a shit ton of information to memorize before we head home tomorrow.” The room spins a fraction as I stand. A hand dips beneath the suit coat I'm still wearing to slide around my waist, steadying me. I tip my head up. “Thank you.”

  “What are friends for?” A full, genuine smile spreads up Trey’s cheeks. For a second, I stay mesmerized by the change in his face. The smirk is sexy, yes, but this smile? Hot fucking damn. The lightness in his features, the happiness in those bunched cheeks, gives him a fun-loving, boyish look.

  “You should smile more,” I whisper, still staring. I want that happy. The carefree, self-assured rightness in my life.

  Soon. Even though money isn’t an issue anymore, the pressure to keep proving myself is still there. Too many people still doubt me, hoping I fail. Once I prove everyone how wrong they are, how wrong they’ve been my whole life, maybe then I can be truly happy.

  “Nah.” He tugs, drawing me closer. “Come on. I'll help you to your room.”

  Each step forces our bodies to brush, shock waves of awareness from my racing heart zapping me with each accidental touch. As subtle as I can, I dip my nose to the coat still cocooning me in its warmth. His unique spicy scent fills my nose. As I take another long sniff, the stress from the last few hours eases from my shoulders, allowing them to drop from their place at my ears.

  We pause halfway into the room. The fingers wrapped around my waist tighten.

  “Where do you want to sit? Bed or chair?”

  “Chair,” I say, pointing to the plush chair I sat in earlier. “Shoot, I need my laptop bag.” I try to shrug out of his hold, but his grip tightens, preventing me.

  “I'll get it. You go get comfortable.”

  My gaze follows him until he disappears into the living room.

  I only make it a few steps toward the chair when Trouble marches back in, annoyance written across his tight features. “Your phone's vibrating.” It lands on the fluffy duvet with a poof. Reaching over, I flip it to check who it is.

  'Blocked Caller' flashes on the black screen.

  Kyle.

  I swipe to answer and press it to my ear.

  “Where are you?” he demands, forgoing any niceties.

  “Dallas.” The mattress presses against my backside as I perch on the edge. Leaning back on an elbow, I let my head fall back. “Things are taken care of with my mom. I'm looking into some exclusive rehab centers that promise confidentiality.”

  “I don't give a fuck what you're doing with her. Get your ass back to DC now.”

  My elbow slides along the soft fabric as I fall back onto the bed. “A lot has happened in the last twenty-four hours. I need some time to—”

  “This isn't about you, Walmart, or have you not fucking figured that out yet? This is about winning and doing whatever I need you to do to ensure that we do. Get back on that jet right now. I need you in New York City Friday night to meet with a campaign donor. He wants to meet you.”

  “Well, that's promising. Maybe he likes my platform for lower taxes on the working—”

  “That's not what he likes, you idiot. Damn, you’re ignorant. Get your ass back here now so we can go over what I need you to do when you meet with him.”

  'Kyle, I don't feel comfortable—” I peel the hot glass from my ear and frown at the dark screen. Staring at the ceiling, I hold the phone to my chest.

  “What was that about?” Trey’s concerned face peers over the bed, blocking my view of the ceiling.

  I roll my head back and forth. “We need to pack up and get back to DC tonight.”

  A heavy hand rests on the crown of my head. “What don't you feel comfortable with, Randi? What did that dipshit tell you to do?”

  “Does it matter?” I slide my gaze to focus on his shoulder.<
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  “Hey, look at me. Friends, right?”

  I nod and bite my lower lip to keep it from trembling.

  “Then what? Tell me.”

  “He wants me in New York to meet with a campaign donor. I get the impression the guy has other things than discussing the campaign on the agenda.”

  Trouble curses. The bed dips, making me roll toward the middle, my side smooshing up against his thigh. Pressing my cheek against the duvet, I stare up at his profile. He’s propped on the edge of the bed, his head tipped back, eyes focused on the ceiling.

  “Don't do it.” A hunk of dark hair slides across his forehead as pleading eyes meet mine. “I have zero right to tell you what to do, but don't do it.”

  “I don't have a choice,” I whisper. The fear of returning home, once again unsuccessful in life, lodges in my throat. “I can't go home. Can't go back to living like that day after day.”

  “You always have a choice.”

  “Easy for you to say. You don't have as much to lose as I do.”

  “Don't I?” he grits out. “I have more on the table than you realize. Don't judge me when you get pissed that people do the exact same to you.”

  My lashes flutter closed. “You're right. But it doesn't change the situation or the outcome.”

  “Fight back. Be a fighter in this. Don't give in to his demands sitting down.”

  The determination in his voice, in the stern look on his face, urges me to listen. Digging my elbows into the duvet, I lean forward and knock his bicep with my shoulder. “Okay, Yoda. How do you propose I fight this when I have zero leverage?”

  My heart thunders against my chest as one corner of his lip tugs up. “I have a few ideas.”

  Excitement and unease swirl in my belly like a group of butterflies all taking flight at the same time.

  Maybe I am as crazy as people think I am, because I’m smiling right back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Randi

  Rivers of rain stream down the town car’s window, the stoplight above highlighting their path with a bright red backdrop. Elbow on the armrest of the door, I sigh, a patch of condensation appearing atop the dark glass from my breath.