Power Switch (Power Play #3) - Kennedy L. Mitchell Page 0,90

just sighed and folded my hands in front of me, the perfect picture of patience.

“What’s in here?” Trey demands while taking a challenging step closer to the very tall man.

Geez, what do they feed those guys?

Our mystery man just arches a brow and looks down at Trey, remaining silent.

“You know what's in there. Stop causing trouble, Trouble.” I smirk at my words. “Go run whatever tests so we can look through it. We've waited long enough, and my patience is nearly spent when it comes to that idiot sitting in the Oval Office.”

Trey gives me an annoyed glance over his shoulder. Before I can think better of it, I stick my tongue out at him only to suddenly remember we're not alone. Tongue still stuck out, I peek at the stoic man. My apprehension slides away to relief at the small twitch of his lips at my expense.

“Thank you,” I say, straightening my blouse and smoothing my hands down my cropped black slacks. “Any insight or warnings, or should we just wing it as we go through the papers?”

“Everything inside.”

Right. A man of many words.

With a dip of his head, he turns on his black boot-looking shoes and strides out the door T yanks open for him. A hot breeze blasts through the opened door, warming the air-conditioned entryway before T can slam it shut.

Trey holds the envelope up to the light, squinting at it like he might’ve somehow developed X-ray vision in the last few minutes.

“Give me that.” T grunts and yanks the envelope out of Trey's hand. Seems I’m not the only one who’s out of patience.

“We can't let anyone outside of us know what's in there, T,” I say, stepping up beside the two men. “I say we toss caution and protocol to the wind and open it. Fingers crossed for no dying.”

Two sets of accusing scowls land on me.

“You know I'm right,” I grumble. The way T's tight, fierce expression falters slightly confirms my claim. “It is what it is. We know Vlad and know he wouldn’t do anything to harm me or our budding relationship. Come on, you two, let's do this in the office.”

Now here I sit shocked beyond belief, staring at information anyone in this city would kill to obtain. Hundreds of pictures, several audio files with transcripts, and thousands of incriminating emails. It's been almost an hour since the information was dropped in our laps, and even with the three of us reviewing each document, we're only halfway through. But it’s already enough to make Kyle step down.

Which should make me beyond ecstatic, right? This is what I’ve been waiting for, what I’ve worked toward for many, many months. But now that it’s here, and the evidence is literally in my hands, my emotions are the complete opposite of happy.

I'm fucking terrified. As in my knees are knocking under the massive desk I'm cowering behind at the moment. Palms-sweating, heart-racing, gut-churning fear.

“This is so bad,” I whisper, my rising terror and horror cracking my hushed voice. “Guys….”

Maybe if I run right now. Maybe if I hide under the desk, take the way of the ostrich, I can avoid what's coming my way. Not the best solution to this problem, but it’s way better than the alternative—me compiling the information into a more organized and concise format, marching over to the White House, and giving Kyle the option of stepping down on his own or me going through with the true impeachment.

Either option leaves me as president.

President of the United States of America.

Holy fuckballs.

I press the heel of my hand to my sternum in an attempt to keep my heart from beating out of my chest. Up and down my hand falls with each rapid breath.

“I can't do this,” I state to myself, but the way the two men's heads snap to attention, focus going from the papers in their hands to me, tells me they heard it. “I'm not fit to be the president. Hell, I'm not fit to be the vice president.” My voice shakes, giving away my rising panic. “I put my underwear on backward this morning. Backward,” I shout to no one in particular. “And didn't realize it until way later. Yesterday, I thought someone was talking about a certain type of coffee, but nope, they were referring to a country. I thought a country was a fucking brew they serve at Starbucks. I can't do this.”

Not waiting for a reply to my very random rant, even for me,