Power Switch (Power Play #3) - Kennedy L. Mitchell Page 0,108

a glance over her shoulder, she nods at Sam, who has his phone in his hands. “It's in your email now. This is what you’ll sign, and the other attachment is what you’ll read on camera.”

“You really think you can do this role?” Leaning back, he tucks both hands beneath the desk. Tank and I share an apprehensive look. “The country is on a downward spiral. It's fucked. There's nothing we can do about it except exploit it where we can. I did nothing wrong,” he yells. “And you.” The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end at the pure loathing in those two words. “You don't deserve this seat, this position. I pulled you out of that ass-backward town and gave you everything. This is how you repay me, you fucking cunt? You're nothing but trailer trash and never will be anything more.”

I jerk against the arms still holding mine down. I’m going to kill him. Tear him limb from limb and bathe in his fucking blood.

“That might be the case, but here I am. I've struggled my whole life, fought for every single thing I've earned. Did you think I’d just step aside now because it’s going to be difficult? This country, its people, are worth me fighting for. I might not be the best option out of everyone in the city, but I sure as hell am the best option between the two of us. Now sign the fucking resignation papers.”

“I underestimated you, I'll give you that. But so have you with me. Desperation makes for desperate actions.” He stands, the office chair he was sitting in rolling back a foot. In slow motion, he raises a small-caliber gun from beneath the desk, the shaking barrel pointing at Randi's chest.

Seven other guns slide from their holsters.

Five are pointed at me and Tank, two at the current president.

“Everyone, stop,” Randi says, voice shaking. Raising her hands, she takes a step backward. “Kyle, what are you doing?”

“I will not be ruined, Walmart, especially not by someone like you. You're nothing. No one. I'm the fucking president of the United States.” I catch the uneasy exchanges between the agents at the hysteria in Birmingham’s high-pitched voice. “I am not stepping down.”

A somewhat insane laugh bubbles out of Randi. Another strangled chuckle bounces off the walls. Leaning forward, she presses her hands to the top of her thighs as the strange laughter continues.

“I'm sorry,” she says between breaths. “This isn't funny. I just can't—” A loud snort booms through the office. The other agents’ eyes slide to me for guidance. “Shit, this is bad.”

“Birmingham, this is it.” Against my better judgment, I lower my sidearm and slide it back into the holster at my ribs. “Let me talk him down,” I say out of the corner of my mouth to his personal agents. “What do you think you'll get by shooting her?” I ask him.

“Her not in office.”

Well, there's that. Maybe another question is better.

“You know if you shoot her, you're not walking out of here.” I tilt my head to where Tank stands, his gun trained between Birmingham's brows. “So yeah, you might hurt Randi—because let’s be honest, there's no way you're a good shot under pressure—but you'll be dead. Whether you step down or are six feet under, it doesn't matter, because she'll still be in the president seat, not you. You hear me? Now lower your fucking gun.”

“It got out of hand. It wasn't supposed to get to this point. Fuck.” Still holding the gun, he presses both hands to the side of his head.

“He's cracking,” Sam says behind me.

“No shit,” I growl. Kyle takes a step right before turning and moving to the left in a strange one-step pacing motion. “Do you mind pointing those somewhere else?” I hiss, not letting my focus leave the unraveling president while directing my words to the other agents in the room.

They don't.

“No.” Everyone in the office holds a collective breath. Even Randi stops her hysterical laughing at the single word. Kyle stares at the gun in his hand. “I'm not stepping down.”

It's written across his sullen features, the desperation and darkness giving away his intentions. I know that look, have seen that look. When someone thinks they’re out of options.

I can't make myself move. Nothing will compute as the man I've hated most of my life slowly raises the gun. Unsure of what to do in the situation, his agents stand, jaws slack, guns slowly lowering from