Page 52 of Power Switch

“And whiskey. That’s a must.” I nod vigorously.

“Fine, and whiskey—”

“Well, while you’re being so accommodating, how about a pack of cigarettes too? I’ve been good. I deserve a reward.”

“No. Food, water, and whiskey. That’s it.”

“Killjoy.”

“When we get back, I’ll let the other teams know of the change of plans. We’ll plan accordingly, knowing we can’t let our guard down even though we’re at one of the most protected locations on Earth.”

In the distance, the dome of the Capitol Building stands out against the other monuments and buildings. The late-night traffic honks and roars around us as we wait for Sam.

I sigh. “Hopefully that’ll be enough to prepare for whatever Kyle has planned.”

13

Randi

Outside the tinted window, the nearly naked trees speed past in a blur. Miles and miles of nothing but trees. Complete isolation. Which is why Camp David is where it is, I guess.

I press my palm to my chest in an attempt to calm my racing heart and building sense of foreboding. Coming out here is a terrible idea. Isolated with only my protection team, and maybe Sam, with their thoughts on my safety. Being out here on his turf is making us all anxious.

A nagging unease keeps pestering at the back of my mind, urging me to have my team turn the SUV around, to head home and ignore Kyle's demanding invitation to spend Thanksgiving with him. But I can't, can I? Last time I ignored a direct order from him, he put a price on my head, and the alpha team and I were ambushed. Maybe that overreaction on his part was because I defied his direct order, messing with his narcissistic ego, or the fact that it was the OPEC summit and I had the potential to gain insight into his dirty oil dealings.

Whichever it was, I'm not that crazy to test my luck again.

Twice I've lived when he wanted me dead.

I'm not a kitty with nine lives. This is the real world, and at some point, the hazards around me will succeed in removing me from office. Dead or alive. An unsettling thought, sure, but at least I have the men in this SUV and the ones in front of us and behind. Their presence is what helps me sleep at night.

Well, that and the sleeping pill the doctor prescribed. That shit is legit. Not that it’s helping with the stress while I'm awake, but the much-needed sleep makes everything during the day more manageable. Between the normal sleeping patterns and basically being force-fed several times a day, I'm living a healthier life since the poisoning.

Go me.

“How much longer?” I ask, fighting with the thick material of the seat belt tightly secured across my lap. Freaking T. I swear, if he could put me in a five-point harness like a five-year-old he would.

“Ten minutes,” Champ says from the front seat.

“Nervous?”

Elbow on the window’s edge, I rest my head in my hand and turn in the leather seat to face Sam. Today, he's ditched the normal suit attire he's always wearing, instead going for a more casual look with trendy jeans that hug his thick thighs nicely and taper at the cuff. The black sweater is tight along his defined chest, showing off the curves of the pecs I know he's hiding under the thick clothing. The sleeves are shoved up his forearms, allowing a hint of his colorful artwork to peek out near his elbows.

It's a good look for him.

When I finally meet his intense gaze, a small knowing smirk is tugging at his lips. Damn, he's handsome. His dark hair, tan skin, and piercing green eyes perfectly encompass the brooding look he's no doubt going for. I'm sure all the women fall at his feet, offering themselves for just a date with him.

“Why don't you have a girlfriend?” I ask instead of answering his question. This one is more pressing. “How long ago was your divorce?”

I swear a hint of blush flushes his cheeks before he turns to focus out the windshield.

“Seven years ago. And as to why I don’t date, work mostly. It's hard to treat a woman right when you're working eighty-plus hours a week.”

“Did you always know you wanted to go into the justice department?”

He nods as his Adam’s apple works, sliding up and down his throat. “I always wanted to make a difference.”

“Oh?” I lean forward, pressing my elbow onto the center console. “Why's that?”

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