Page 60 of Power Twist

“Do you trust me?” T asks. I dip my chin in a small nod. “As you should. You know I'll take care of it, whatever is revealed inside this envelope.”

“And tell me,” I whisper, still not letting go.

“And keep you in the loop. Let me handle this for you, for Taeler.” Reluctantly, I let the envelope slip through my fingers. “Come on,” T whispers barely loud enough for me to hear. “Let's get you back.”

I nod and don't put up a fight. Hell, I barely even notice my own feet moving in sync with theirs as they shuffle me out the door, back into the dark alley and then into the waiting limo. I stare unfocused at the floorboard as we drive through the city. A warm hand wraps around my cold one, fingers interlacing with a quick squeeze.

“You're okay, Mess. It’ll be okay.”

I don't have the energy to tell him somehow I know for a fact that it won’t. Whatever happened tonight was the catalyst of something big. But what that is, only time would tell.

* * *

The cold concretebar top sends a shiver from where my elbows press against it all the way to my toes. Even with the humidity and heat, I can't stop my teeth from chattering. The glass shakes in my trembling hand as I lift it to my lips, but even the slow burn of the cheap whiskey does nothing to warm me.

There have been times that I've felt the world was falling apart around me, but this, today and last night with Vlad, made all those other times feel like a fucking vacation—if I knew what one of those felt like.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep inhale. Behind me the other hotel patrons mill about, having no clue the fucking shit show I'm dealing with—alone.

Being yelled at for the past ten hours, everyone and their neighboring countries blaming me for the oil crisis on our hands. One would think the spike in oil would make these money-hungry assholes happy, but oh no, they're pissed because they think I, the Americans, are doing it to somehow overthrow the OPEC alliance and out produce them, making us the leading supplier of the liquid gold in the world.

If only I knew what the ever-loving fuckity fuck they were talking about, maybe I wouldn't feel so… lost.

But I don't. No matter how many times I explained our situation, that we are not the cause, only hate and anger were spewed right back. Apparently we were never a fan favorite of the alliance anyway, and this just tipped their hands to pure loathing for my beloved country.

Top off this fantastic fucking day with getting a text from Jessica that the House decided to vote on the bill early. That’s right, for the first time in our government’s history, they did something early. Just my horrible luck.

Of course it passed. Not sure why I’m so sad to learn that what I knew would happen is now a fact, but I am. Super sad. And the only thing that’s going to make today right is another drink. Then another. Then another.

A voice in the back of my mind screams at me to stop drinking, that this is no way to handle my problems like the second most powerful person in the world would. But you know what I tell that voice? Fuck. Off. Sure, this is a dangerous ledge to lean over considering I’m the daughter of an alcoholic and addict. But I’ll worry about that tomorrow.

Maybe.

A gentle grasp around my elbow snags my wandering attention. Slowly peeling my dry eyes open, I blink several times to clear my vision. Across the bar, a row of mirrors lines the wall. A familiar set of honey brown eyes meets mine in the reflection. His normally styled dark hair is disheveled, like he's run his fingers through the thick locks over and over the past few hours. There's no mischievousness in his eyes, no humor in his pinched features as he stares down at me. Guess it’s been a long day for everyone.

“Let's get you upstairs,” he mumbles while reaching for the highball glass clutched between my hands.

“Go away. Can’t you see I’m drowning my sorrows?”

“Yeah, everyone can, which is why it’s time for you to go up to your room.”

“No.” I give my head a shake for emphasis, causing the room to sway. Focusing on a stationary object, I inhale deep through my nose. “One more.”

“That's what you said three rounds ago, which was already two too many.”

Rolling my eyes, I yank my elbow from his grasp, causing a few precious drops of whiskey to sprinkle to the bar. “Never had a dad and don't need one now,” I state.

Wait, why am I mad at him?AmI mad at him?

I tilt my head and narrow my eyes, hoping that will help me concentrate.

Oh yeah, that’s right. I’m pissed at the world, not Trey. But he’s the one trying to cut me off, so….

“I'm not your fucking daddy,” he hisses into my ear. I lift a shoulder to relieve the tickle caused by his hot breath. “You're drunk. If I don't get you upstairs now, I'll have to carry you up. Look the hell around you, Randi. Do you want me to carry you out of this bar with all these people watching?”

“Get the hell off me.”

“I thought you wanted to break the cycle, not repeat it.”

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