Page 94 of Power Switch

“You can do this, Mess.”

“We're right there with you, Randi. That bastard won't lay a hand on you.”

“And what he said,” Trey says, hooking a thumb toward T.

I bite back a smile and shake my head, my hair sliding over my shoulder. Taking a deep inhale to steady my nerves and dispel the worry about the water bottle, I sit up straighter in the seat and roll my shoulders back.

“Let's do this.”

* * *

Seven agents dot the edges of the room, my two and five of Kyle's; the others are standing guard outside the doors and the perimeter. I fight the urge to chew on my nails at the intensity beneath their concentrated focus. I guess I can see why they’re zeroed in on me. In this room, I’m the wild card from their point of view. Which, based on my unexpected and slightly violent actions in the Oval Office that first day we were in office, makes their analyzing stares warranted. But what they don’t know is this time it won’t be me who’ll be caught off guard with a shocking revelation.

“Walmart.” The smug bastard doesn't even get up from where he sits.

“It's proper to stand when a lady enters the room,” I say sugary sweet while batting my lashes his direction. I force my feet forward, making my way toward the empty chair situated across the small intimate table intended for two from where he sits watching my every move.

“I will when I see one.”

“Burn,” I mock.

Trey slides the wooden chair out and helps me glide it back into place after I’ve sat.

A nearly empty highball tumbler twirls beneath Kyle’s twisting fingers, the slivers of ice left swirling with the action.

“Started without me?” I say with a pointed glance to the glass in his hand.

Lifting the glass, he drains the contents and lifts it up, those ice blue eyes never leaving mine. An agent approaches and replaces the empty glass with a fresh one.

“You're not my first meeting tonight. This place is a bit boring, if you ask me. I would've suggested another, but”—Kyle's icy gaze skims over my shoulder—“I hear it was raided earlier today based on a tip.” I shiver when Kyle returns his full focus to me. “Breaking up families is a good way to make powerful enemies in this town, Walmart. You have enough, don't you think?” After a long sip, he rests the amber-filled glass on the table. “Where you learned about the dark corners of this town is what I'd like to know. Who’s been sharing our secrets?”

Needing to do something with my hands, I swipe the knotted black cloth napkin off my empty plate and pull it to my lap. My fingers fidget beneath the tablecloth as I pour all my nerves into anxiously twirling the corners around one finger and then the next.

“Worried those slipped secrets also involve you?” My bravado is all fake. Hopefully he can't hear the thunderous pounding of my heart. The tip of my index finger begins to throb as the circulation slows due to the napkin twisted and knotted around it.

“I have nothing to hide.” For emphasis, he spreads his arms out wide like he's giving me free reign to look for any misdealing. But the flash of apprehension in his tired eyes is a sign of the worry he’s hiding beneath his own brave mask.

Taking a moment, I observe the man sitting across from me without the usual fear and my normal loathing seeping through, clouding my reflections. Similar to the past few months, there are dark circles beneath his eyes, signaling his continued exhaustion. A few wrinkles crease his normally pristine dress shirt, displaying the telltale signs of yet another long day. Then there's the drinking. I eye him as he tips his glass back, emptying it of its contents, and holds it up for a second time.

“Why are you looking at me that way?” he asks, apprehension in his tone.

“I have no damn clue why, but for some odd reason, I'm worried about you.” I huff at the ridiculousness of my statement and rest back in my chair.

Genuine surprise blooms across his face before he schools his features back into the smug smile he loves to wear.

“Now why would you do that, Walmart? You're the one with Shawn nipping at her heels.”

“Not for long if he was serious at Camp David that day.”

The condescending smirk falters. “I'll worry about him when I have to.”

“But to answer your question, you look tired. Exhausted even.”

“I'll let my plastic surgeon know,” he grumbles. In an uncharacteristic show of weakness, he traces the few fine lines marring the delicate skin around his right eye.

“Kyle….” I don't know what to say next. How do you even start this kind of conversation? When I thought he poisoned me, I wanted revenge. Then when he dragged Taeler into our fight, there was only pure rage fueling my focus to take him down. However, now that the fury has ebbed and months have gone by, apprehension has taken over, repressing the condemning words from leaving my mouth.

“You can say it, Walmart. I already know you find me oddly attractive and want to suck my fat cock.”

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