Power Surge: Power Play Series Book 4

by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  “You're right,” I finally say. Shaking my head, I lean forward, resting my face in my awaiting palms. “I wasn't thinking.”

  “Yeah you were, Mess. Just with your heart instead of your head. And that's okay. It's one of the things I love about you.”

  Inhaling a deep calming breath, I blow it out slowly before leaning back and meeting his smirk.

  “You gotta remember,” he says. “Men are better at using their heads because we have two.”

  A loud, obnoxious snort tickles my chest and nose. A tentative smile tugs at my lips, matching his growing one.

  “And I can honestly say, Trouble, I'm not quite sure which of your two heads I like the most.” Thin smile lines appear at the corners of his eyes as his cheeks bunch. “Thanks, Trey. What would I do without you?”

  I hook a finger through a belt loop and tug him closer. His fingers delve deep into my hair. Closing the distance between us, he brushes an almost kiss over my lips.

  “You'll never have to wonder, Mess. I'm not going anywhere.”

  The desk phone screams with a shrilling ring, breaking the intimate moment. Two red lights blink along the front, indicating multiple calls coming through. Without a warning knock, the side door swings open, causing both our heads to snap to attention. My secretary steps into the Oval Office, her eyes purposefully downcast.

  Trey's fingers loosen their hold before sliding free.

  “Your noon meeting is here, Madam President. Also the press secretary is waiting for approval on the documents I emailed you. And Vice President Pierce has called multiple times requesting a meeting this afternoon.”

  “Who's on line one?” I ask with a resigned sigh. Damn. Playtime is over.

  “The French president.”

  “And line two?”

  “Your ex, ma'am.” Her eyes snap up at Trey's predatory growl. “Sorry, Mr. Ben Hopkins. He says it's urgent.”

  Groaning, I bang my forehead on the desk before stealing my spine and rolling both shoulders.

  Back to work.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Trey

  Arms folded across my chest, I monitor every blink, every breath Smith takes as Randi asks about Cairo. Every word, the explanation and details, are the same as in his report. I glance at Tank, and he breaks his focus on Smith. A whole conversation passes between us without a single word spoken.

  We're both in agreement.

  Something doesn't add up.

  Which seems to be a common occurrence when Smith is involved. That time in Saudi Arabia when we couldn't find him wasn't the only one. A few times, Tank or I've looked for him off shift and been unable to reach him. Sure, I used to do the same thing, vanish when my shift was over for some local fun, but I was a mischievous dumbass, not… suspicious.

  Everything about him is suspicious: his redacted file, the coldness in his demeanor. Add in his constant disappearing act and how could we not think he’s the one leaking the information on Randi’s whereabouts?

  “And you're telling me the truth?” Randi asks. She flicks a quick questioning look my way before focusing back on Smith.

  Fuck, she's beautiful. How I got so damn lucky, I'll never know. Now to convince her to marry me. I was serious that night in my small-as-fuck bedroom. She wasn't ready then, but I'll never stop waiting for her to be.

  “Madam—” Her hard glare cuts him short with a throat-clearing cough. “I know what I saw. I did what needed to be done.”

  “What do you do for fun?” she asks.

  For the first time since I've known the guy, sheer surprise registers across his face before he slams the impassive mask back in place.

  “When will the official review be complete, ma'am?” he asks instead of responding to her question.

  “Did I mention I've been eating more protein?”

  “No, ma'am. Is it helping?”

  Her smile widens, and a shallow breath escapes me at the sight. Even after a full day of work, she still manages to find a reason to smile. If I do find a way to get her to say yes, I’ll do everything I can every day to make sure those beautiful smiles never stop.

  “Eh,” she says with a shrug. “I'm kidding. Yes. Do you believe unicorns are real?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Unicorns. The magical horned horse that is beautiful and could double as a badass secret weapon.”

  “Is she serious?” he asks, turning to me.

  I just shrug, a smile fighting to escape. Damn, I love this woman. This has to be the most random interrogation tactic I've ever seen, but it's all Randi. Hell, she might not even know what she's doing—she's just being her.

  “No, I lost the hope of mystical creatures and heroes a long time ago.”

  “Well, that's sad.” Disappointment laces her words.

  “That's the reality of this world.”

  “Even you?”

  “Even me what?”

  “You're not a hero?”

  His nostrils flare. “I'm no one.”

  “I know how that feels.” Picking at a button string, she turns her attention to her lap. “Doesn't make it true.” Looking up through her dark lashes, she flashes me a smile. “Someday, someone will come along and show you how untrue that statement is.”

  “I thought we just covered the fact that I don't believe in mystical creatures.”

  A tremor shakes her shoulders. Chafing her hands up and down her arms, she turns her full focus back to Smith. “Just wait. It’ll happen, and I'll get to tell you ‘I told you so.’ So why would you kill those guys anyway?”

  “It's my job to keep you safe, is it not?” Three shallow lines form along his scrunched brow.

  “It is, but why shoot them? Why not arrest them?”

  “I don't follow.” The lost expression on his face makes me want to believe him.

  “She wants to know why shooting them in the head was your first reaction,” I say to help clarify.

  “It's efficient.”

  “Efficient,” she says, shaking her head. “Now I'm the one who doesn't understand.”

  “If I shoot them in the head, then I know they’re down for good and can't recover to come back and shoot me or you.”

  “Logical,” she muses. “I suppose I'll never understand the first reaction being to kill someone or be killed. Where did you learn to be so… efficient?”

  I drop my arms to my sides. Leaning closer, I wait eagerly to hear his answer. All the guys on the team have their own suspicions. Most assume he was a Ranger or SEAL before flunking out of Homeland Security or NSA. But the quietness about him, the hidden darkness that he keeps tucked deep inside, makes me think CIA.

  He makes to shift on the couch, and if I weren’t watching like a hungry hawk, I would've missed the hint of a wince at the small movement. I scan his starched white dress shirt, wishing for the first time since I was six years old that I had X-ray vision.

  “A little bit of everywhere.” His cold gaze slides to me, then to Tank. “You don't seem the type to beat around the bush, Randi. If there’s something you want to ask me, ask me.”

  “Did you inform the insurgents of the change of plans in Cairo?”

  I'll give it to my girl, her voice stays steady and strong as she holds his gaze.

  “Are you accusing me of treason?”

  “I'm asking a question, Agent Smith.” Randi shifts on the couch, causing the pillow supporting her ankle to slip. Before I can even think about helping, Smith has the rogue pillow back in place and, if I'm honest with myself, at a better position than I had it originally. “Thank you. Boy Scout?”

  “No.”

  “Mr. Prepared?” she challenges, her voice lighter than just moments ago.

  “Absolutely not.” Squinting, I barely make out the hint of a smile fighting to the surface of his blank face.

  “Bond?” Dark locks float over her shoulder as she shakes her head. “No, too cliché. Guess it's back to the drawing board. It would help if you, I don't know, opened up a little more.
Gave me a little insight to your personality.”

  “Personality.” A single light brow ticks up his forehead. “You seem to think I have one.”

  “You do.” Smiling, she glances to the phone vibrating on the table. “And we'll find it, promise.”

  “Don't try to save me, Randi.”

  “Who said anything about saving?”

  Leaning forward, he presses his elbows on top of his knees and clasps his hands. “I know what you're doing. Building rapport, trying to find a baseline of trust, hoping I'll tell you what I know. It won't happen, and I can guarantee you there's nothing you can do to alter what I am.”

  “What are you?” she asks. Again the cell phone rattles on the coffee table.

  “Unsalvageable.” A quick glance to the phone screen and he pushes off the couch opposite of Randi. “I’m sure you need to take that.” At the door, he turns and looks me straight in the eye. “I'm a lot of things, but a traitor to his country and the person running it is one thing I will never be. I agree, there is a leak, but you're looking in the wrong direction.”

  “Think you can find out who it is?” I ask quietly.

  With a dip of his chin, he slips out the door, all without a sound.

  Randi's quiet voice filters through one ear and out the other without me processing her words as she speaks to the person on the other end of the phone.

  “Did you get what you needed?” I ask Tank at the feel of a large presence at my back.

  “He's hiding something, but hell if I know what.”

  “Agreed. I can't shake the feeling that there's something we're missing.” I shake my head as I run a few fingers through my hair, disturbing the gel holding it in place. “Nothing can happen to her.” A commotion snaps both our heads toward the couch, where Randi struggles to stand on her own. “Fuck me.”

  “That's her job,” Tank retorts with a laugh as we stride to the middle of the room to offer aid.

  “Seriously?” she hisses, the mouthpiece pulled away from her mouth. “On the phone here.”

  The silk blouse beneath her jacket slides as I wrap an arm around her waist to support her weight as she hobbles around the room, acting as her human crutch. The voice on the other end continues talking, but the words are too muffled to catch a full sentence. Her soft curves mold under my hand as I wrap my fingers around her thin waist. That simple touch, over clothes, and my cock twitches to life.

  Twisting as we walk, I attempt to adjust myself without drawing attention to the situation growing in my pants.

  “Really?” Tank chastises.

  Busted.

  “What?” I say, waving a hand down the front of Randi. “How could I not?”

  “We discussed this already, Ben.” Her light weight leans harder against me. Eyes closed, she presses her forehead to my shoulder. “That's not going to happen. I don't—”

  That fucker. What the hell does he want now? If only there was a way to distract her from the call, or hell, better yet, make her want to hang up on the asshole. Pressing the side button of my phone, I check the time. Eleven. Which means our shift ended an hour ago.

  A smirk plays at my lips. The muffled voice of that dipshit ex of hers continues to sound through the phone as I guide her across the Oval Office floor and out the door. Halfway to the residence side, she holds the cell away from her lips and tilts her face up to mine.

  “Where are we going?”

  I arch a brow in response and continue helping her down the hall. By the time we make it to her room, she’s nearly limp in my arms. Once inside, I help her to the bed before unwinding my arm from her waist.

  “That doesn't help anything, Ben. It's more stress on Tae.” Those hazel eyes roll to the ceiling and stay there.

  A quick snap of my fingers gains her full attention. I motion down the line of buttons. “Off,” I mutter. A single tug on my tight tie loosens it, allowing the silky material to hang haphazardly from my neck. The jacket slides from my shoulders as I shrug out of it and place it, my shoulder harness, and sidearms on a stuffed chair in the corner of the room.

  Phone tucked between her ear and shoulder, Randi never shifts her curious gaze as she pops one button after another until the soft material hangs open. A small gap shows off a strip of bare chest and a glimpse of black lace.

  “Ben, listen, I understand you're upset— No, what happened in Egypt has nothing to do with— You will not.” I hold her rapt attention as I work one cufflink and then the other before peeling my own dress shirt off. The vest and then the undershirt are next, carefully deposited to the small pile of discarded clothes and firearms. Metal clinks as I tug on my belt.

  She nibbles on her lower lip, her lids lowering as she watches the thin strip of leather slide from one belt loop and then another until it too ends up on the floor.

  “Ben, I need to go.” I shake my head and press a single finger to my pursed lips. Randi's dark brows furrow, a thin line forming between them. “Um, actually… hold on.” The phone peels from her ear. Pressing the screen face to the bed, she tilts her head, eyes searching mine. “What are you doing?”

  “Having a little fun, Mess. Now be a good girl and keep him talking.” The phone stays on the bed. “Now, baby. I won't ask nicely a second time.”

  A red flush spreads across her cheekbones and down her neck. I watch each inch that phone rises, my cock hardening with each passing second at the thought of what's to come.

  “Sorry, someone needed something,” she says to Ben as she shrugs out of her jacket. “What were you saying?”

  Her cherry vanilla scent envelops me as I step closer to the bed. With a soft caress along her shoulders, I slide the silk blouse off one and then the other. Trailing two fingers down her spine, I flick the clasp causing the black lace bra to loosen.

  The moron on the other end of the call keeps talking, completely unaware of my devious plan.

  With both palms on either side of her knees, I urge them apart until I'm able to kneel between.

  A deep sigh pushes past her lips at the first soft kiss I press to her collarbone. Her normally cool skin is now hot to the touch. Sucking and nibbling, I bite at the soft flesh between her shoulder and neck.

  She gasps before remembering she’s on the phone and covers it with a fake cough.

  “What?” she says into the phone. “Oh, nothing. Stubbed my toe?”

  I chuckle against her skin. Cupping one breast, I circle the pebbled nipple, drawing closer and closer to the tip with each pass. A full-body tremble rakes through her as the edge of my nail slides across the tip. Pulling away, I watch with utter fascination as her head falls back, the ends of her dark hair brushing the white duvet. Pinching the hard tip between two fingers, I suck the other between my lips, flicking my tongue rapidly over the sensitive nub.

  Heat builds beneath my skin, a raging inferno urging me to hurry this the fuck along and rip her damn pants off. My dick throbs, pressing hard against the zipper of my slacks. I groan against her nipple, taking more between my lips at the threading of her fingers into my hair and not-so-subtle urge for more.

  Careful to not injure her ankle any more than it already is, I work her soft gray trousers and black lace thong over her hips and down the thighs I desperately want wrapped around my waist. Once she’s completely naked, I assist her in lying back on the bed.

  With a cocky smile, she complies, that cell phone still glued to her ear.

  Admiring the unobstructed view of the treasure I’m desperate to lick, I slide both palms up and down the soft skin of her inner thighs. With every teasing stroke, I pause at her center before massaging back down to her knees and making my way back up again. The sweet scent of her wet center shoves me over the edge of patience into instant fucking gratification. Without warning, I spread her slick lips apart with both thumbs and suck her clit between my lips.

  A high-pitched moan passes her lips, followed by a mumbled apology, but I'm too lost in devouring her delicious center to fucking care what she's saying to th
at dumbass.

  In fact…

  It’s time for my fun little game to be over.

  My palm sinks into the mattress as I lean up, the heat pouring off her wet pussy now pressing against my upper abs. Eyes wide, she shakes her head as I reach for the phone, but I ignore her pleading. Snatching the damn thing from her hand, I give my lips one more long lick, savoring the flavor of her before hitting the speaker button.

  The sound of that dumbass's voice almost kills the mood, but her writhing beneath me, sliding her wetness across my bare skin, wins.

  “Your time's done, fucker,” I say, my gaze locked on Randi's as I shift enough to slide two fingers deep inside her. Those hazel eyes roll to the back of her head. “Stop using your daughter to win Randi back. It won't happen, and you know how I know that won't happen?”

  “Who the fuck is this?” His voice shakes through the line, no doubt with barely controlled rage at my voice.

  “You know who it is.” A squeak cuts through the room as I add another finger. Randi's hips lift from the bed. Sliding a hand up her stomach, I tweak one nipple, then the other. A pleasure-filled groan passes her lips.

  “What the fuck are you doing to her?”

  I shake my head. Dumb bastard. A part of me will always hate him for having Randi first, but at least now I know for certain she didn't know pleasure with him.

  “I'm about to fuck her so hard she forgets who she is. Stop fucking calling. Stop trying to take what's mine.”

  Releasing the nipple between my fingers, I tap the screen, cutting off his responding tirade.

  “Trey,” she pants.

  “Shh, baby, I know.” Dipping low, I seal my lips over hers. Our teeth clash at the force of her hands gripping my hair, yanking me closer. I twist my wrist, placing the heel of my palm against her swollen clit. She cries against my lips with each curl of my fingers and circle of my hand.

  Randi's chest heaves against my own. Our tongues flick and slide, dueling against the other’s.