Page 31 of Power Play

“Benson!” Terminator shouts.

“You know nothing about me,” I grit out. Pressing my elbow to the tabletop, I lean forward, shortening the distance between me and the judgy prick.

“I know enough.”

Instead of launching across the table and wrapping my hands around his neck like I desperately want, I lean back into the seat and cross both arms across my chest. “Oh really? Go on, then, tell me a bit about myself.”

His honey brown eyes darken with challenge. “You're nothing more than a pretty political pawn—”

“Aw, you think I'm pretty,” I say, batting my eyelashes and pressing a hand to my heart before shooting him the bird. “And side note, I prefer Politician Barbie.”

“You'll do anything that fuckstick Birmingham tells you—”

“Enough!” Terminator shouts and pushes up from his seat like he might take a swing at Trouble.

I hold out a hand to stop him. “No, let him get it out. Everyone can see he has a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas and has something to say.” I swipe a hand across the table. “Well, here's your chance, Trouble. Get it out of your system now. But I will say we agree on one thing: him being a fuckstick, not me being his puppet.”

“Scheming puppet—”

“Judgmental asshole.”

“Fuck, can I finish?” he grits out. Not sure how, considering his teeth and jaw are locked down tight.

“Oh, please continue. This is so interesting. I love learning new awful things about myself.”

“You're nothing but a fraud.”

Heavy tension settles inside the plane.

Swallowing back the lump lodged in my throat, I swing my gaze to the table, breaking from his hate-filled glare. If looks could kill, I'd be bleeding out all over this fancy plane. “There is a bit of truth in that statement,” I whisper, “but not in the way you're thinking.”

“Enough,” Terminator says in a tight, quiet voice that’s more terrifying than his yell. “Benson, you will keep your opinions to yourself and keep your fat-ass mouth shut. Ma'am, I apologize for—”

“I asked for it,” I say quickly to stop him. No idea why I egged him on, but I won’t play innocent in the argument. It's crazy, but somehow I know he doesn't believe those terrible things about me, not deep down. I know firsthand how people treat me who truly believe what they see is what they get, and Trouble isn't one of them. He's angry, yes, and from the outburst just now, I can tell it’s because he was hurt by someone who is or was a political pawn. Maybe even more than one person. Something happened to cause the man sitting across from me to become this bitter shell of the fun, mischievous person I can tell he used to be. “We're good.”

Trouble's eyes widen at my words. The minuscule dip of his chin signals to our spectators that the show is over. Once again the chatter increases, vibrating around the cabin, punctuated by the insistent clicking on laptops or their phones.

“What I was trying to do before you two got into your spat was introduce you to the team.”

Oops, forgot I don't know anyone's real name. “Sorry, T.” I give his rock-solid shoulder an awkward pat. “Go ahead with the introductions. Trouble and I won't cause any more… well, trouble.”

Pointing across the table at Trouble, he says, “Benson.” Then he shifts his finger to point to the next guy. “Jenkins, Hanks, Jones, Alejo, Walsh, Cole, and Banks. I’m Washington, the team lead.”

I give a small wave and awkward smile. “Randi Sawyer. Are those last names or first names?”

“Last. Now, we're your primary team going forward. If you need anything, let me know. Beta team will meet us in Dallas before driving ahead to secure the area.”

I snort. “Secure the area. You're hilarious, T-man. You know where we're going, right?”

“Boone, Texas.”

“Well, there are around fifteen hundred people in the town, and I can guarantee you no one there will try to hurt me. And if some random snuck in to plot another hit on me, they'd be run out of town before they could settle into the only motel. I don't want a lot of attention drawn to us.” Shifting in the seat, I fiddle with the iPad resting on my lap. “You know why we're going, right?”

Terminator shoots a quick look at Trouble.

You've got to be kidding me.“Seriously? No one told you what’s going on?” My gaze bounces between the two men. So different physically and, from what I’ve seen so far, personality wise, but the two seem to gel. Trouble is the ying to T’s yang.

“Birmingham told us he ordered you home and the jet would be ready, that was it. He said you'd fill us in.”

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