Power Switch (Power Play #3) - Kennedy L. Mitchell Page 0,62

focus on the sweating brown bottle.

“We didn't talk about my text earlier,” I mutter under my breath so no one else in the house can hear.

A loud sound comes from the direction of the kitchen, the guys’ laughter filling the small living room. I have to hand it to whoever planned this portion of Camp David. Having a separate house for the off-duty agents was brilliant and very much needed. Here we get to relax and let loose a little from the stress of the day while the other team works their protection shift. The few hallways are lined with rooms filled with the basics: single bed, nightstand, gun safes, and a few hangers in the closet for our suits. It's no Ritz, but it's perfect for working getaways.

The only thing this place is missing is a hot tub to ease my aching muscles and seep the stress from my neck and shoulders.

Tank peeks one lid open. “We didn't.”

“Just saying it was off. Not sure what that means, but just… off.”

He runs a palm across the thick scruff that's sprouted along his cheek since this morning. “Could it be the girl? That relationship?”

I roll the empty bottle between my hands, my gaze unfocused as I replay every movement, every word from earlier.

“No, I don't think so.”

“You'd know what to look for, I guess.”

I nod, smirking. “Sure would. I, out of anyone, would know the signs. No, it was something else. He wouldn't even look at Randi. Hell, he barely glanced at me.” I hush my tone and lean forward. Tank mimics the movement, resting his elbows on his tree trunk like thighs. “Before he left, we were solid, joking around with her, so he knows she's not someone we have to be on guard around. I don't know, Tank. I don't like it.”

For several seconds, he just stares at the coffee table, foot restlessly bouncing against the carpet. “He was there when you beat the hell out of that piece of shit in Boone.”

I nod.

“But he's not on Randi's security team anymore.” He shakes his head like he's trying to clear the fog. “Why would he offer up going to Austin if he was your mom's informant?”

That's the part I can't figure out either. I've racked my brain since the strange encounter earlier today and still none of the pieces fit together.

“Unless that wasn’t part of the original plan and he did it in spite of being my mother’s eyes and ears on the team. But that wouldn’t explain how Randi’s comings and goings with Sam early on were reported back to Kyle. None of this makes sense.”

“Agreed. At this point, I’m wondering if your mom was just being a dick and there isn’t an inside person, she just found out about the Texas incident by asking around.”

“Wouldn’t put it past her.”

“I’m done, Playboy. This day has maxed me the hell out.” His knees protest, cracking and popping as he stands. A pain-filled grimace pulls across his face. Those few years playing professional football still haunt his body. I'm not sure there’s a day he isn't in pain. It would be manageable if he could get some relief, but with the drug tests and tight medication requirements for the secret service, he can't take anything that helps. Maybe once Randi is president, we can convince her to approve medical pot to be on our permitted drug list—though not while on duty, of course. Then he could get a full night’s sleep without waking up in pain.

“Same. I'm beat,” I say on a yawn while stretching my arms high overhead.

I follow behind Tank as we make our way down the hall toward our rooms.

“Hey, Benson?”

My hand rests on the doorknob. “Yeah.”

“Keep it in your pants while we’re here, for fuck’s sake.”

I bark out a laugh and shove the door open. “Where's the fun in that, big buddy?”

The door swings closed behind me. Heel to the stained wood, I kick it the rest of the way, cutting off Tank’s muttered curses. I smile to myself as I work the knot of my tie loose.

Sometimes riling him up like old times is just what I need.

15

Randi

I'm a creeper.

It is not normal for a mid-thirties—okay, late thirties—mother to stare at her older daughter while she sleeps. But I can't help it. First of all, she's beautiful, a trait she got from me—obviously. And second, she's actually here, with me, when I least expected it but needed her the most. With the stress of the