Page 26 of Power Switch

“I don't remember you having visible tattoos.”

I hop over an exposed root and smile. “Because those classrooms were the same temperature as a meat locker. I was always in long sleeves and a jacket, so you never had a chance to see them.”

“How do I know you're not working a different angle?”

I furrow my brows. “Why would I work an angle about my tattoos?”

From the corner of my eye, I catch him smiling. “About the president and the investigation.”

“Oh.” I cringe at my ignorant response, though who knows? Maybe that was what he was going for, to see how I'd react. A guilty person would already have a response prepared and immediately follow his line of questioning. Smart, actually. “I see what you're doing.” That smile of his widens. “And I guess you just have to take my word for it.”

“About the tattoos or the genuine reason why you decided to help?”

“Both,” I say, shooting him a grin. “Why did you want to meet all the way out here? Couldn't we have found somewhere closer and safe?”

My breaths come faster as we head up a steady incline. Shaking my hands, I struggle to get my muscles to relax to make the pace less strenuous. It’s either the hot man running beside me or the brooding hottie at my back who’s making me tense. Who knows? Maybe both.

“I don't want the president to know you're working with us. It’ll be easier for you to gather inside information if he's unaware. That's why I chose this area. Plus these trails are challenging and a great workout.”

“Two birds, one stone. Nice.” I roll my shoulders, trying to get them to drop from my ears.

“You seem tense.”

I nod. “Comes with the job. What do you expect from me in all this?”

“Just listen, be aware of who he's meeting with behind closed doors. Try to get in on meetings, gain more of his trust so hopefully he’ll confide in you.”

I snort. “Not likely.”

“All we need is direction. We think we know how he's doing it and who he's manipulating to get his way, but the asshole has covered his tracks so well that it all appears legal. We have to get him on something that he's hiding.”

“Like what?” I huff. A sharp pain cuts through my chest. I suck in a quick breath, and my stride falters.

“Randi,” Trey's deep voice calls out behind me. “You okay?”

Instead of responding—not that I could if I wanted to—I nod and keep running.

“The EPA regulations he's putting into place and the drilling on federal land are all somewhat legal. His secretary of interior is brilliant in that regard.”

“Shawn,” I wheeze.

Okay, something’s wrong. We've gone less than a mile and I'm barely able to breathe.

“Whit, yes. The funding and who he's selecting for the companies allowed to drill are where we need to catch him. We have to find proof that the companies he's chosen did not follow the normal bidding process and were selected based on who gave to your campaign. As I said before, that's where we lose the trail. We can't prove any of it.”

Warm liquid tickles beneath my nose. My hand seems to weigh several pounds too much as I reach up to my face and swipe above my lip. Again my footing stumbles at the streak of red now coating my fingers.

“Trey,” I call out, frantic, but my voice breaks as another pinch of pain steals the breath from my lungs.

Sam curses as I stumble forward. A tattooed arm shoots out, wrapping around my stomach to keep me from falling face-first onto the dirt path. More shouts echo above me. The trees whirl in my vision as I'm rolled to my back, completely helpless to stop what's happening.

I blink as I stare up at the cloudless blue sky, fighting to take a deep inhale.

“Randi.” Trey's face hovers over mine, blocking the pretty view. “What hurts?”

“Everything,” I gasp. “My chest. I can't breathe.” Tears trickle down my temples, soaking into my sweat-slick hair.

“Poison,” someone says beside me.

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