Power Switch (Power Play #3) - Kennedy L. Mitchell Page 0,96
against her lips. “Thank you for being here.”
“Always, Trouble. I'll always be here for you.”
A loud interrupting cough snaps me out of our bubble. Heavy footsteps draw closer. Dad groans in pain as he's hauled to his feet. Hands on each arm, the agents haul him from the room.
A wave of sadness and regret rushes through me as I watch them disappear around the corner.
“You did the right thing,” Randi whispers. “I'm proud of you.”
“What have you done?” Mother shrieks from the middle of the room. “We're ruined. You!” She jabs a finger toward Randi. “You're the one to blame. You'll pay for this. And you.” That trembling finger swings to me. “You're cut off from this family.”
“Um, one more thing,” Randi says, raising her hand like she needs to be called on to speak. “With the kinky shit we know you're into—” I grimace, and she stops. “Sorry, sweetie, but I have to bring it up. With the kinky toe-fucking shit you're into, I suggest you hold off on the whole revenge part of your plan. You wouldn't want that to get out to your fancy friends too, now would you?”
“Get. Out,” Mother says before screaming the same words over and over again.
Her screams fade as Randi and I walk hand in hand down the hall. With her at my side and the confrontation behind me, the darkness of the house no longer pushes at the corners of my mind. For the first time ever, I feel free from the burdens of a joyless and loveless childhood.
At the front door, Tank and a few of the other guys wait, his concerned gaze locked on me.
“I'm fine,” I say to my best friend with a pat on his shoulder.
“Can't say I'm surprised,” Tank says as we step out into the sweltering June heat. “Still sucks. And to think I thought my parents were bad.”
“Ditto,” Randi chimes in. “Who knew cleaning up your mother after a bender would be better than that fancy shit show.”
“Wow, you two don’t hold back on my account,” I grumble. Running a hand through my hair, I tug on the ends.
In unison, our heads turn at the belligerent shouting pouring from the inside of the first SUV. I fight a smile at the annoyed scowls of the two agents assigned to take him away. No doubt Dad will be out on bail by the end of the night, but the charges are there, and that’s what matters.
“Not anymore,” I mutter.
“Hmm?” Randi asks, tilting her face up, a hand coming up to shield her eyes.
“Inside, Dad said it's how deals were made in this town, at places like The Boardroom. And I'm just saying not anymore. Not with you.”
“By making a few waves, and even more enemies.”
“But you're doing the right thing. Tank was right all those months ago.”
“About what?”
“You're the change this town needs. After you’re done with this place, DC will never be the same.”
She presses her forehead against my bicep. I stroke the back of her head, threading my fingers through the silky, dark locks.
“Ready to take on the next asshole tonight?” I toss out, changing the subject from one heavy topic to another.
“Not really,” she grumbles.
“What if I let you ride back home with me instead of him?” I hook a thumb in Tank’s direction.
Her head pops off my arm, a wide smile splitting her face.
“Really?”
“No,” Tank barks. “Not going to happen. Randi is getting in this SUV and we’re going straight home to plan for tonight.”
I smirk ignoring my friend. “Sure, baby. I'd love to feel you behind me.”
“I said no.”
Randi and I exchange a quick look, both knowing what the other is thinking, and take off in a sprint toward my bike, Tank's demanding shouts trailing behind us.
24
Randi
I'm going to vomit.
Again.
Yep, I said again, because I've thrown up consistently for the last hour as I waited at home, nerves going haywire, for this moment. Now the time is here. Outside the Suburban's dark windows, the city zooms past as we glide through the downtown DC streets, getting us to our end destination faster than I'd like. If we never got there, I might be okay with that too. Not that I want us to die in a crash, but maybe slightly injured where they have to wire my jaw shut?
I shake my head and swallow past the anxiety lumped in my throat making it difficult to even breathe normally. Reaching down, I snag the spare bottle of water always stored in