Page 68 of Power Twist

Again he shakes his head. “I can't. Family obligations. I just needed to see you before I go.”

“What's going on, Trouble? You seem… troubled.” I smile at my own joke, but it falls when he doesn’t return it. “Something's wrong. Tell me.”

“I can't. Not yet, Mess.”

“Did I do something?” I whisper with a glance up to the security cameras hidden in the corners of the office.

“Of course not,” he bites out with more conviction than I've heard from him in weeks. “Don't ever think that, you hear me?” Stepping deeper into the room, he quietly closes the door behind him and leans against it.

“I miss you.” My words are barely audible, but the way he closes his eyes, wincing like he's in pain, there's no doubt he heard them.

“I know. Fuck, I know. But I just can't right now. I'll tell you more soon, I swear. Just don't… don't give up on me.” With that he turns, pulls the door open, and slides out without a goodbye.

Pressing against my chest, I attempt to ease the ache radiating from my heart.

Something is wrong, very wrong, but what can I do if he won't tell me?

* * *

Needingto release some of the pent-up anger on the verge of bubbling over, I grip the SUV's door and slam it shut behind me, almost severing my foot at the ankle in the process. Flipping my loose wavy hair over my shoulder, I sink low in the seat before reaching back for my seat belt.

“Guessing that went well,” Trey says from the front passenger seat.

“Waste of my damn time,” I huff. Reaching down, I tug at the hem of my skirt. “Why do these people even agree to meet with me if they know their bigoted little black hearts won't hear a word I say?”

Both men upfront remain silent. My annoyance grows. Smacking T's headrest, I lean as far forward as my seat belt will allow, placing my face between their shoulders.

“You're both awfully quiet. Surely you have some ideas.”

Trey chuckles and adjusts in his seat, allowing him to look back at me. For the first time in weeks, his eyes are light with humor. Too bad this time it’s him laughing at me.

“You're hot, Mess.”

My mouth pops open. “He's married,” I say, pointing back to the restaurant we just left. “And old.”

“That didn't stop Hindle, did it?” I grumble a few curse words under my breath. “All I'm saying is you're beautiful, smart, and the hot new thing on the DC scene. Plus, you’re powerful. Of course they're all going to say yes when you call them up to schedule a meeting. They're hoping your version of meeting means sans clothes.”

“I just threw up a little in my mouth,” I say, fake gagging. “Old saggy balls. No thank you.” With a resigned sigh, I relax back into my seat and look out the window. “Well, if what you say is true, then hopefully this next meeting will be better sinceIdidn't schedule it.”

T slams on the brakes, shooting me forward until my seat belt catches. The air whooshes from my lungs as the tight material cinches across my chest.

“What the hell, T?” I rasp, inhaling deep to regain some composure. “Did you almost hit someone?”

The leather groans as he twists around. Trey mirrors his move.

“Who made this meeting if you didn't?” T demands.

“Senator Johnson. He called me—”

“Which one?” they say in unison.

Well, fuck. Bouncing my gaze between their stern ones, I lift my shoulders with a grimace. “Not sure.”

“Randi fucking Sawyer,” T yells. “Which one?”

“I don't know, okay?” I shout back, but not with nearly as much… wait, is that fear? “What's wrong?”

The two men share a glance. “It sounds suspicious is all,” Trey says after clearing his throat. “Tell us about the call.”

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