Page 81 of Power Twist

A tremble starts in my fingers before racking my entire body. It's one thing for the guys to tell me what they suspect or know, but it's a totally different feel when it’s confirmed from the horse’s mouth. Or ass’s mouth, in this case.

“That's attempted murder, you psycho,” I spit out before I can think better of it.

Anger and a bit of fear boil in my gut at his nonchalant chuckle.

“Only if you can prove it, Walmart. Don't you remember that from law school? A conviction only holds if you have evidentiary support. Which I can guarantee you don't have.”

I open my mouth, ready to blast the fool with the fact that I do, but snap it shut at the last second. I need to keep that tidbit to myself for now.

Balling my fingers into a tight fist, I swallow back the words and march for the door. Just as my fingers graze the doorknob, Kyle’s words take root, snapping a light bulb on in my mind.

“Proof,” I whisper. A genuine smile pulls at my lips as I turn to face the man sitting behind the desk once more. “You're right, Kyle. No matter who you are, you have to have proof.”

His lips dip in a frown. “That's what I fucking said. Get out. I have shit to do.”

Eagerly I give him a two-finger salute—What the fuck is wrong with meand hand signals?—and yank the door open before speed-walking down the hall. The two beta team agents flank me as we march through the White House. Practically running down the stairs, I dive into the waiting SUV and immediately search through my laptop bag.

Pulling out my iPad, I open a blank document. Fingers flying across the flat screen, I have ten bullet points down on how we can oppose Trey's mother’s blackmail when I pause. I stare at my list. It's a great list, if I do say so myself. It’s the few cases I remember from law school and others I've randomly followed in the past. This is what I need to show Trey, that the case against him would never make it to court, and if it did, he would win. But there's something holding me back.

Fuckity fuck.

Biting my lip, I pitch the iPad aside and lean back against the leather seat to stare blankly out the side window. Outside, the buildings race by, pedestrians stare at the procession, and cars honk, annoyed that we're inconveniencing them with traffic. A thick ray of sun cuts through the dark tint, warming my cheek. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and hold it to ease the growing ball of dread in my gut.

I have the knowledge. I know the loophole to get Trey out of the mess he's gotten himself into—all for me.

Now the question is do I use it and make a formidable enemy?

Or do I play the political power game where knowledge is power and hold this information close to my chest for now, leaving Trey in the trenches of this political battle he brought on himself?

My heart begs me in one direction while my mind, focused on my political career, tugs me another.

Which one do I listen to?

Chapter Twenty-Two

Randi

July

The celebration is in full swing by the time I arrive. Limos and town cars idle along the tree-lined drive, waiting to drop off their passengers. Careful to not snag the soft silk of my dress, I tug at the tight midsection, hoping to give me an extra inch to take a deep breath for the first time since I slid the beautiful thing on. White is not my normal choice in dress color, but my wardrobe assistant told me it was perfect for this celebratory party.

A single strap cuts across my chest, leaving both shoulders bare. I suggested we leave my tattoos uncovered as an additional slap to Kyle tonight, but I was overruled by, well, everyone. Apparently there are still some parts of me, parts of my past, that people don't want to know about. So after layers of careful tattoo-specific cover-up, both shoulders now appear classy—their words, not mine.

I finger an earlobe, fiddling with the diamond chandelier earrings just to make sure they're still there. No way would I spend the kind of money needed to buy these suckers, but the jewelry shop was more than happy to lend them to me for the night.

The SUV inches forward, drawing us closer to the entrance. Swiping the black clutch from the other seat, I snap it open and pull out my phone. A bolt of anticipation shoots to my gut as I press the Home button with the hopes of seeing a text from Trey. The anticipation evaporates, leaving behind disappointment at the blank screen.

Today was a whirlwind for him too, preparing for the party and keeping his mother placated. It’s no surprise he hasn't reached out in the twenty minutes it took for us to drive over here. We've texted all day, mostly him making sure I'm okay and not planning to bail on tonight. It was a valid concern to have; all day my stomach has twisted with nerves.

After tonight, when his mom introduces Trey and Jessica to everyone as a new up-and-coming power couple, it’ll be hard to turn back. But this is what needs to happen. This has to go forward if I want anything to go smoothly over the next three years I'm in office.

After leaving the White House that day, I realized making enemies with his mom, all for a man, was putting my eggs in one basket, so to speak. A man who I like a lot, but love?

What is love anyway?

I thought I loved Ben way back in the day, but look how that turned out.

My love for Mom is so dysfunctional that it would take years of therapy to untwist that relationship.

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