Power Switch (Power Play #3) - Kennedy L. Mitchell Page 0,33
his gaze up to meet mine. “The doctor did say she might be more irritable than normal.”
“I'll show you fucking irritable,” she practically growls. “Get the damn doctor in here.”
“The coffee, Randi. Where did you get it? What did you eat for breakfast?”
“The kitchen where I always get my coffee. Which is protected, all the time, by you guys. My chef, the cleaning staff, everyone is background checked. And not only that, they like me. They wouldn't have done that. And food?” She shrugs. “Oops again.”
“That as in poisoning you. That as in attempted murder, tacking on treason.” Sam leans closer with each word. What’s his deal with creeping into her personal space?
“Yes,” she grumbles at him. Focusing on the closed door, she sighs. “Birmingham or Whit is my guess.”
“Either, maybe both,” I say, stepping closer to her bed. I slide a finger down her bare arm, desperate for any connection, not caring about Sam seeing. The need to comfort her, touch her outweighs the consequences of him knowing about us.
She follows the movement. “When can I go home?”
A shuffle sounds behind me before Tank appears at my side.
“I'll go get the doc. Once he releases you to be under the care of your personal physician, we can fly you out of here.”
“Is that necessary?” She groans. “I don't want the media to get wind of this.”
Tank, Sam, and I exchange looks.
She tips her head back against the bed. “Let me guess. Too late.”
We all nod.
“Awesome. Has Tae called?” she asks me directly.
“The guys are fielding her calls and a few from your ex,” Tank responds. “Playboy and I were on protection duty while you were knocked out.”
“Right,” she says with a tight smile. “In case someone else tried to kill me. Nice.”
“You can call her when you get back and settled. The doc mentioned you'd need several days’ rest to allow your body to recover. There wasn't permanent damage, but it could turn that way if you don't take it easy.” Hopefully if I say it enough times, she'll actually do it. But knowing her, it wouldn't matter if we chained her to the bed. She'd find a way to work.
“You still on board for helping us, Randi?” Sam asks.
His poor timing for the inconsiderate question snaps the hold I’ve been fighting on my anger. Forgetting everything, I lunge forward, aiming to wrap my hand around his neck. Shock registers on his face before he quickly steps back just as my fingertips slide along his throat.
“Trey!” Randi shouts. The heart monitor picks up, sending frantic beeps blaring through the room.
“Benson,” Tank yells, yanking on my shoulder.
All I see is red. Again I lunge over the bed, desperate to get my hands on the fucker.
“She almost died, you fucking cunt.”
“Not because of me,” he bites back.
“It was fucking rat poison,” I shout. A massive arm wraps around my stomach, hauling me backward. The wall rattles, pain bursting along my spine as Tank slams my back against the drywall. “Why do you think that is?”
The door slams open, and three men in suits storm through the door. Another set of hands pins me to the wall, but still I struggle. All the pent-up rage and all-consuming guilt fuels my every move.
“Get it together,” Tank grits out in my ear with another hard shove to my right shoulder. “We don't know, remember?”
I cringe at the bite of pain piercing my shoulder.
“Everyone, out,” Randi calmly says over the chaos I've created. “Let him go. He won't hurt me.” Over the one marine's shoulders, I see her turn to Sam. “But he might kill you.”
“He could try,” Sam says, glaring at me.
“Just stop,” she snaps. “Yes, I'm still going to help. But not if you don't leave right now.” He doesn't make a single move toward the door. “Out!” she yells. “Everyone.”
The hands restraining me loosen. When the men step back, I inhale a deep, calming breath. The cool air burns down my dry throat. The three marines file out, the last one shooting a daring glare over his shoulder before disappearing through the doorway. Sam grumbles something I can't make out as he strides out seconds behind the uniformed men.
Randi looks to Tank and arches a brow. “You too, T. I need to talk to Trey, alone.”
“That's not protocol. I can't leave you, not when this just happened, with only one agent—one psycho agent, at that—to protect you.”
Her hospital gown-covered chest rises with a deep inhale. “Fine. Go stand in the corner and