Page 32 of Power Play

“Motherfucker,” I grumble and grip the iPad to keep from flinging it across the plane. “No wonder y'all think so little of me.” Peering up through my lashes, I give Trouble a sad, tight-lipped smile. “He didn't order me to go home, but he did inform me of a situation that I need to handle.” I huff a fake laugh. “You said I'm a fraud. Well, you're about to learn firsthand how right you are.”

Chapter Ten

Trey

My eyes slide across the back seat of the Suburban to Randi for the third time in the last thirty seconds. For forty minutes, we've been locked side by side with Tank—or Terminator, as she's deemed him—at the wheel. I focus back out the window to the acres and acres of open farm land. Terminator does fit him, and Trouble fits me with a capitalT.

Not that I'll admit that to her.

The resentment and disappointment from last night fused in the early morning hours, turning to disdain. On the plane, I couldn’t hold my anger back any longer, and it poured from me like water from an opened dam. Then she went and confused the hell out of me during the back-and-forth tirade. In that minute, everything IthoughtI knew about her changed. My disdain, the hate, and anger, it all receded, leaving confusion in its place.

Which is why I can't keep my eyes off her now. She’s a puzzle, this Randi Sawyer, one I’m determined to solve.

Again my gaze finds its way to her side of the SUV. With her brows furrowed, her hazel eyes skim over the iPad screen, teeth chewing on her pinkie nail.

I shouldn't instigate another fight, but the last one was so entertaining. Plus I have to figure her out, and when she's pissed, her guard is down, providing a peek into the real Randi Sawyer.

“Facebook or Instagram?” I say, my tone bored.

She doesn't even glance from the screen. “How little you think of me is quite astounding. Really it is.”

“Ah, you're on Twitter, catching up on the news.”

I smile at the flare of her nostrils.

“No, you idiot.” Sitting back in the seat, she adjusts her knees to angle to my side. Perfect. “Listen. I'm not sure what type of women you've surrounded yourself with, but based on your preconceived judgments of me, I'm guessing no one I'd be friends with. Stop trying to figure me out if you're unwilling to shove all your judgmental, idiotic, chauvinistic notions up your ass before you do. I deserve a clean fucking slate, cowboy, because I can guarantee you I'm unlike anyone you've ever met.”

I smirk. “Cocky.”

The tip of her ponytail swishes along her back as she shakes her head. Her pursed lips and loud sigh give off a disappointed feel.

My smile fades as lead sinks in my gut. “Then what?” I ask, desperate for the answer.

Randi sighs and nibbles on the corner of a thumbnail. “You'll figure it out soon enough.” Adjusting her weight, she leans forward to point at something outside my window. “We're here.” Craning my neck, I barely catch a worn sign announcing the town we're entering. “Let's see what you think of me by the end of the day.”

My brows furrow at the uncertainty in her voice.

But that doesn't make sense.

Curiosity building, I shift in my seat, unable to sit still.

Tank's voice booms from the front. “Okay, ma'am—”

“I told you on the plane, T, only in public, okay? When it's just us, it's Randi. Or Rand. None of this ‘ma'am’ shit.”

In the review mirror, his reflection smiles. An actual smile. It's unheard of for him to drop the professional mask when he’s working. Tank says smiling comes off as unprofessional. It's a challenge I face daily, considering I find humor in just about everything. Well, I used to. The past few years have put me in the less humorous, more jaded category in life.

“Randi, where are we headed? You said you'd tell us when we made it to town.” All traces of the earlier smile are gone, leaving his normal tense mask.

She pitches forward, our shoulders almost touching, her head between the front seats.

“What do you know about my past?”

Gremlin responds from the front passenger seat. “Grew up in Boone, Texas, pregnant at fifteen, daughter at sixteen, graduated top of your class—”

“The basics. Okay, well, if you can't tell by the current scenery, Boone isn't the wealthiest city or the biggest.”

“So?” I say before I can stop myself. I need to get a fucking grip. I’m hanging on every word, desperate to learn more.

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