Power Switch (Power Play #3) - Kennedy L. Mitchell Page 0,31

sorry for yourself and hoping she'll forgive you.”

“I wouldn't,” I admit. “I failed her.”

Slowly, his dark eyes shift from the screen to meet mine. I flinch at the intensity and annoyance behind his challenging stare.

“Then you're off the team,” he states. My breathing falters. “You're no good to me like this. And you're no good to her.”

“No. Davis, please.”

The tightness around his eyes eases. He shakes his head, breaking the standoff.

“What do I do with you, Trey? You're thinking like her boyfriend rather than her protector. You want to stay on the team?”

I dip my chin, eyes pleading. I can't get kicked off the alpha team. This is my life. The team, the job, her. I can't lose this.

“Then move on,” Tank continues. “It happened. Now we find out the who, the why, and the how.”

“And kick the coward’s ass.”

A small smirk pulls at his lips. “Now you're thinking like an agent.”

The wall trembles at my back as I slam against it and cross my arms across my chest. Closing my eyes, I center my focus. Images of her lying on the dirt trail, blood trickling from her nose, keep trying to divert my attention, but I shove them to the back of my mind to process later.

“Isn't poison a woman thing?” I ask absentmindedly. “I feel like I read that somewhere or heard it on a crime show.”

“A woman or a coward. And we know two who have reason to hurt Randi.”

My upper lip curls in a snarl. “But neither has had access to her food, her water.”

“Doesn't mean they couldn't pay someone. Hell, Birmingham already hired someone once to take her out. Maybe this is his backup plan.”

Reaching out, I pop the knuckles of my right hand before moving on to the left. “Maybe he already knew about Sam meeting with her. That first meeting when she initially turned him down. Birmingham wouldn't have known she said no; maybe he assumed she was already working with him.” Focusing on the stark white wall across the small medical room, I work my way through all the possibilities. “Maybe the fact that they used rat poison was symbolic almost.”

“I thought that too.”

“You did not,” I say, shooting him a condescending look.

“Did too, while you’ve been brooding over in the corner for the last hour.”

Eyes to the ceiling, I turn my thoughts back to the issue at hand.

“The doc said she had to have eaten or drank the poison recently. So the last twenty-four hours. We were with her this morning. Did you notice anyone, see anything out of the ordinary?”

Tank shakes his head. “I've been texting with Chaz. He doesn't remember anything from the prior shift, but he's calling all his guys to ask them personally. The one thing he does remember is she was locked in her office all night. She skipped dinner, again.”

I groan. That woman, I swear. “We need to talk to her about that. Again,” I mumble. Glancing at my watch, I flick my gaze back to the beauty on the plain white sheets. “She should be waking up soon.”

A light rapping against the thin wooden door sends Tank shooting up from the chair. Shoving off the wall, I reach for my ankle holster, grabbing the small 9mm and pointing the barrel at the slowly opening door.

“Down, boy,” Sam says as he pushes the door open just wide enough for him to slip through. Shutting it, he leans against it, his hands tucked behind his back. “I have to head back into the city for a meeting but wanted to say bye to her first.”

Every muscle itches to throw him to the hard linoleum floor as he approaches her bed.

“Did you notice anything strange this morning?” I ask instead of resorting to jealousy-induced violence.

“Besides her almost dying?” he quips, eyes still on the sleeping Randi. “Was she complaining about not feeling well?”

Tank and I both shake our heads.

“So it had to have happened just before you left, then. I overheard the doctor say she had high levels of the poison in her system. If she'd ingested it yesterday, she would've reacted sooner.”

“Is that your official medical opinion?” I toss out with a condescending smirk. “Leave the investigation to us. You focus on taking down that bastard Birmingham.”

“No love lost there, I see,” he says with a chuckle. “And what makes you think I’m after the president?”

“Uh,” I say, trying to come up with something to cover my tracks. Tank relaxes in his chair, pulling out his