Power Switch (Power Play #3) - Kennedy L. Mitchell Page 0,67
roaring gas fireplace. The heat stings my cold hands, but that's easier to ignore than his pulsing heat as he stands too close, also gazing into the flickering flames.
“Most people think what they see is what they get with me,” I say, not glancing away, allowing the dancing orange and red to pull me into a near hypnotic state. “In some ways, I guess that's true, but they don't know what drives me, what made me do all this. What makes me put up with all this.”
“And what's that?” he asks. The weight of his stare urges me to turn. Instead, I turn my cold ass to the fire.
“Her,” I say with a nod toward the front doors. “Them. Everyone who's been forgotten by the people in this town. I'm their voice, and I won't let anyone take that from me, from them, now that I'm here. You said you wanted to strategize.” A glance around shows us alone in the grand living room. “Let's do it.”
“Not here,” Sam says, bending down to whisper into my hair. “Walk with me.”
I shoot him an incredulous look before waving a hand down my black leggings, Uggs, and sweatshirt. “I'm not prepared for a hike.”
“I said a walk.”
“In the fucking cold? I don't think so.”
“It’ll be fun,” he says with a chuckle, amusement glittering in his green eyes.
“For snowmen and Eskimos maybe, but not this girl.”
“It's fifty degrees,” he says, now all-out laughing at me.
“Exactly. It could start snowing any minute.”
“You're ridiculous.” He steps closer, wrapping an arm around my waist and tugging me close. “What is it with you?” he mutters. “Why can't I stay away?”
Lowering my shoulder, I wiggle out of his embrace, putting some distance between us.
Ah, hell, was Taeler right? Does Sam want more than a business relationship?
“I'm Team Randi,” I say like he should know what the hell that means.
One dark brow rises up his forehead while he shakes his head. “You're a strange one, Randi Sawyer.”
“Not the first or last to make that observation, my friend,” I grumble. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I look out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun sparkles through the glass, making the day seem beautiful and warm out. “I'll go get my jacket. Then we talk. There's a lot we need to cover.”
I don't wait for his response. As quickly as my rubber soles can carry me, I hustle out of the room. At the corner, I dip out of sight and lean against the hall wall.
“Give me a second,” I beg to the agent hovering too close for me to think straight. He doesn’t move. “Please. I won’t move from this spot.”
With a reluctant grunt, he steps around the corner, giving me some semblance of privacy.
A deep breath fills my lungs, tightening my chest. I hold it for three seconds before slowly letting it loose through my nose.
When did my life become one big game of political Twister?
Hand on fixing the bill.
Foot on setting up your love with another woman for political gain.
Head on creating a fake relationship with a guy you're physically attracted to, all while trying to not be attracted to him because you're in love with someone else.
Other hand on treason and trying to take down the president because he’s a narcissistic twit.
Ass on the fucking ground because you're out.
I cringe and scan the long hall. If I'm out, that could be detrimental not only to the part of life I enjoy the most—living—but the American people as well. Without me, Shawn would step up to the plate as the VP. That could trigger the end of the world.
Dramatic, yes, but that doesn't make it any less of a possibility.
The wall pops behind my back as I push off with my shoulder to stand tall. Nope, this clusterfuck is one I've created and one I'll see through.
“Team Randi,” I whisper to myself and raise my fist high.
“Trailer.”
Ah, fuck.
Maybe if I don't acknowledge his presence, he won't notice me. Acting like the gleaming hardwood floor is the most intriguing thing I’ve ever seen, I shuffle down the hall, desperate to get away from evil personified. The last thing I need on my plate is to be dead. That would really hinder my “save the world” plans.
A viselike grip wraps around my upper arm and yanks me to a halt. Every muscle contracts and icy fear races through my veins, causing my heart to thunder in my chest.
“What do you want, Shawn?” I somehow manage to get out even