Page 11 of Power Twist

That bottom lip sticks out in an exaggerated pout. “But where in the hell do I find someone who I can trustand iswilling to side with me? That's a tough find.”

I dip my chin in agreeance. It will be a tough find, but we have to. There's no way she can be flying all around the globe, entertaining various country leaders, and get the votes needed.

A name, a familiar face, floats to the forefront of my mind. Groaning, I drop my head.

“What?” she questions.

“Not what, but who.”

“Okay, who?”

“I might know someone who would be a good fit.” I grab the back of my neck, massaging the tension out of the stiff muscles. Someone who can help us sway the votes Randi’s way with a few well-placed suggestions if I asked her to.

“If you suggest Rachel, I swear I'll Bobbitt you.”

“Is that a thing now? Bobbitting as a threat?”

“Is for me. Who is it, Trouble? I have a feeling I won't like this suggestion.”

“You won't,” I grumble.

Randi tilts her head. “Listen, I know we're doing the whole friends thing nowadays, but if you've slept with this person, I’ll take a hard pass. Talk about awkward.”

I shake my head, my signature smirk coming out for the first time in a long while. Fuck, I miss this woman. Not VP Randi but this Randi. The one who's relaxed, easy, simple yet challenging as fuck.

Suddenly, being in the small room with her is too much. My muscles twitch as I hold myself back from touching her. “No, I haven't slept with her. Hey, erm… listen, I gotta run. See you tomorrow for our shift.” Before she can say anything, I bolt for the door. As soon as it’s closed behind me, I fall forward, resting my forearms against the opposite wall.

I didn't lie. I've never slept with Jessica. Doesn't mean the woman hasn't tried on several occasions.

Having the Hawthorne family name, Jessica's been on Mother’s top list of wife prospects for years. No doubt Jessica will jump at the idea of working with Randi just to be close to me on a consistent basis. As long as I make it out as a favor to me and my family, not Randi, Jessica should be on board. Shitty to bend the truth that way, yes, but if it works and we get the votes, who the hell cares?

This just keeps getting better and better. No touching Randi and now potentially having to deal with Jessica on a daily basis.

“Do you know what you're doing?”

With an annoyed groan, I fall forward even farther, smacking my forehead against the cool wall. Ouch. “And just what makes you think I don't know what I'm doing, Tank?”

“Honestly, man, I don't know. You've never acted like this before.” The cool wall rolls along my forehead as I turn to my best friend and team lead. His head is dipped while his mitt of a hand swipes over his shiny bald head over and over. “I'm worried.”

“I can keep it in my pants,” I say, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. “Seriously, you think I don't know my limits?” I don't, but no need for him to know that.

“Not that, but since that's where your mind is going, maybe I should be worried about you keeping your hands off our job.”

“She's not just the job and you know it.”

A confirming grunt sounds down the hall. “She's safer when you're not distracted by what you two do in private. I know you hate it, and hell if my wife doesn't tell me I'm an idiot for it all the time, but it’s what needs to be done. At least until she's established in her role, established in this damn town.”

It makes sense, everything he’s saying, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Pushing against the wall, I lean a shoulder against it and cross both arms over my chest. “What are you worried about, then?” I stand straight with a quick glance back to the closed bedroom door. “Her?”

Hiking a thumb over his shoulder, Tank turns and tromps down the stairs. An uneasy feeling rolls in my gut as I follow, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up. Turning the corner, I nearly smack into his stone-like back at his abrupt stop.

“You. I'm worried about you.” Tank turns only to take a quick step back while giving me the side-eye. “You need a hug or something?”

I smile and open my arms wide. “Always, buddy.” I drop my arms at his sneer of disgust and chuckle. It fades as his words finally register. Tank’s gut has never been wrong before; no reason for it to turn faulty now. “What do you mean, you're worried about me? Didn't we just establish I'm good, no need to worry about me going against your orders? I'm done with those antics, done with screwing around. That year sidelined nearly killed me—hell, it nearly killed all of us. I'm not screwing up and hurting the team again.”

He steps around me, heading for the kitchen. With a sigh I turn to follow once again, the heels of my boots clomping on the pristine hardwood floor. In the kitchen, he heads straight for the pantry and steps inside.

“I'm worried you're going to do something stupider than that.” Cheez-It box in hand, he steps out of the dark pantry and rips the top open, immediately diving into the cheesy goodness. I hold back a chuckle. Poor guy and his nervous eating habits. “You're protective of her, and she's already made some high-power enemies. I'm worried you're going to do something stupid like attack the president of the United States for manhandling your girl.”

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