Page 25 of Power Play

I wince at Taeler’s continued high-pitched rampage on the other end. He takes a step forward, smirk gone.

“Wait,” My shaky voice is barely loud enough for Taeler to hear. “Calm the hell down, Tae. My head is killing me, and your yelling is making it worse. Concussions are the worst. I wouldn't recommend ever getting one.”

“Sorry, Mom, I'm just—wait, what the hell? Concussion?” A slight tremble resonates in her tone. For the second time tonight, tears build, but this time they’re due to her worry instead of fear. “Mom, what happened? Tell me, please. I'm worried out of my mind over here. Do I need to fly up? I'm sure I can miss classes if you need me.”

A magnetic pull draws my gaze back to the agent. “No, sweetheart, you don't need to fly up here. Everything is okay. It's being handled by the Secret Service as we speak.”Wait a second.Careful to not make any sudden movements, I ease onto the edge of the bed and lie back. “Taeler, how did you even know something happened tonight?”

Her sigh sounds through the phone. At least she's calmed down a little. “You're all over the news. Whatever happened tonight is covered on every news channel. It's a big deal, Mom. You're a big deal now. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks,” I mutter. “I still can't believe it.” Securing the phone between my ear and shoulder, I roll to my side and swipe the remote off the side table. It clatters back onto the solid wood after I hit the Power button. No need to change the channel, since I monitored the big network news channels all morning as the votes were tallied. The large flat-screen TV snaps to life. Bright flashes from other cameras disorient the image, but the entrance to my condo building is unmistakable. Black Suburbans dot the area, along with several police cars and one fire truck. The woman on the screen waves a frantic hand behind her while talking to the camera.

“Watching now,” I say more to myself than Taeler. On the other end of the line, Taeler talks a thousand words a second, demanding answers and threatening to fly up here, but all I can focus on is the footage on the screen. “Listen, Tae, I love you, but I don't know what to tell you. The Secret Service is here now and I'm safe, promise. I'll call you as soon as I know something. Love you.” After a teary goodbye, the line goes dead.

Eyes still glued to the TV, I say, “Fill me in. Now.”

“The investigation is ongoing. We don't know what happened,” the hot agent says. You'd think his words would agitate me more, but the concern with a hint of frustration in his voice is soothing. “Not a well-thought-out plan, but still, whoever did this probably thought they could scare you out of continuing on to the general election.”

“Up till this point, it's been protesters, a few things tossed on stage or toward me during a rally. Nothing violent. Whoever is behind this upped their game tonight.” I tear my focus from the TV and attempt a smile. “Convenient that you and your friends were already here though. Thank you. I really didn't want to die tonight.”

“Agents, not friends. And we were already here prepared to receive you after the party. I talked to the team lead while you were with the doc, and it seems there was some kind of communication breakdown. We were told the security team who's been with you up till this point would hand you off here at the condo. Instead, most were dismissed earlier today, and then the final few were told they were done after the party.”

“Is my concussed brain confused or does that sound fishy? Do I have to keep you? The team, that is.”

“Yes, ma'am. We’re here to stay.”

The room goes fuzzy as my eyes struggle to maintain focus. The daunting weight of the entire night's events settles on my shoulders. Exhaustion swoops in, draining the last bit of energy reserve I have left.

“I think I need a quick nap,” I murmur. The bed dips under my hands and knees as I crawl up to the top but collapse before I can slide between the sheets.

“That's not a great decision.”

“Just a few minutes, Trouble,” I say on a yawn. Damn, I'm tired. The past few months—hell, few years—feel like they've finally caught up with me.

“Trouble?”

I smile into the pillow at the confusion in his voice. Maybe having these guys around won't be so bad after all.

“I can see it,” I say and snuggle deeper into the soft bed. “You're trouble. I just know it. But don't worry. So am I.”

He mutters something I can't make out, but I don't care. Just a few minutes of sleep; then I'll be good to go.

The last thought that slips through my mind before oblivion sinks in is the hope that he’s still here when I wake up.

Chapter Eight

Trey

Aswirl of conflicting emotions and indecipherable thoughts floods through my mind. What in the hell happened during the last hour? My gaze wanders up and down her robed body, inspecting each inch, hoping to find the sign to help me understand her. To say I was floored when she stepped out of the bathroom earlier is an understatement. Curled on her side, the potential VP's breathing evens out, and her shoulders relax further into the mattress. During the primaries and televised debates, she seemed plastic, too perfect. But the woman lightly snoring on the bed is the definition ofrealperfection. The no makeup, wet hair, and glasses look is one most women wouldn't dare pull off even in the privacy of their own home.

But not this woman, this Randi lady.

I narrow my eyes on her relaxed face, skimming down to focus on her slightly parted plump lips.

“What in the hell do you think you're doing?” Tank whisper-yells from the doorway.

I jolt like I’ve been caught doing something inappropriate, and my gaze flicks to the floor. “Nothing. She fell asleep. Just monitoring her like that doc told us to.”

I glance over to Tank, whose eyes are on sleeping beauty. She mutters something unintelligible and rolls to lie on her back. I look back to her, trying and failing not to notice the bare skin of her toned calves.

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