ass.” I chuckle. Two stripes and one solid fall into various pockets. “Choose a side.”
He nods, his smile falling. “Coincidentally, that's what I wanted to talk about.”
A soft snort leaves my nose. “I've never known you to talk about anything. You demand, Kyle. So go on, tell me what this is all about.”
He stalks around the table, eyeing the balls still dotting the top. Those ice blue eyes narrow on a complicated shot just before he leans forward, inspecting the various ways to address the ball. Today he's more casual in dark jeans, loafers, and a light blue button-up that makes his eyes seem more blue than clear. The dimple of his chin seems to twitch as he raises the cue to strike.
Of course he sinks it.
I groan and lean my forehead against the narrow part of the cue in my hand.
“I’m aware of everything you’re doing to cover your tracks. From you and Benson to the idiotic farce you’re playing with Pierce. Which means you’re still moving forward with helping the DOJ. I wanted to explain my side and let you see there's more going on than you realize, Walmart.” Straightening, he eyes the table, searching for his next target. “You think you know what I'm doing and why, but you don't.”
“Then explain.” Putting a bit of weight on the cue, I lean forward, meeting his surprised eyes. “I’m not going to sit here and spill everything I know hoping you’ll do the same. You want to set the record straight, then go ahead.” His head dips in acknowledgment. “Spill it.”
Maybe if I can get him talking….
“You wouldn't understand the pressure I'm under,” he says under his breath.
“Pretty sure things aren't just rainbows and unicorns in my role either. We're both under a lot of pressure. That doesn't mean you can—”
“It doesn't matter the why,” he grits out as he draws his cue back. The ball goes wide by half an inch, missing the hole. “Damnit.”
I don't stop the slow smile from spreading up my cheeks.
Finally.
Leaning over the pool table, I search for the shot I want.
“I need you to make Pierce drop his case, stop looking into it.”
I peer up through my lashes before focusing back on the cue ball.
“Even if I wanted to, which I don't, I don’t have that kind of pull over him.”
“You do and you will.”
The three ball smacks the back of the pocket before dropping inside.
“And why would I do that?” I ask, lining up my next shot. “You act like we're friends, or that I owe you.” Point aimed at the cue ball, I flick a look up at Kyle. “We're not and I don't. And your assuming I’m working with the DOJ isn’t enough for me to be within breach of our contract, so you can’t hold that over my head.”
The solid ball lands softly into the pocket exactly where I aimed it. Who knew those nights playing while in Austin would help me defeat the president in his own game room one day? Tiny loves to play pool and had a beat-up table in the back of the shop to help with his “creativity.” It was a way to shoot the shit while the shop was empty, usually early afternoons when the drunk college kids were still recovering from the night before, too hungover to get out of bed and venture back downtown.
“Randi.”
My attention flicks from the white ball the split second before the cue tip connects, making the shot go right, missing the seven ball completely. Still bent over the table, I don't move. I shiver at the real fear lurking behind his eyes, something I've never seen. It’s disturbing as hell. With a slow blink, he shakes his head, and the vulnerability that was there for a half a second vanishes.
“I'm not asking. This is bigger than you, bigger than me. You have to stop Pierce. Make him realize too much is on the line for him to keep at the investigation.”
“What’s on the line?” I ask hesitantly.
“My life. Yours. His maybe.”
I swallow and stand, leaning a hip against the dark wood. “What's going on, Kyle?” I search for another spark of that fear he let slip, but his normal arrogant mask keeps it covered. “You're the president, for fuck’s sake. You have the power to do or stop whatever you want, which is how you're in the position now.” I shake my head. This is crazy. He’s just trying to get me to feel sorry for him.