Page 20 of Power Surge

Sure, he's a little depressed and confused. Who wouldn't be?

Maybe that's what he needs to hear. That he's not alone.

“You remember when you helped me clean up my mom in that jail cell?” Taking a deep breath, I close the distance between us. “That was the first time anyone had ever helped me, and it was awful,” I say with a forced chuckle. “I detested you seeing that side of me. The ugly, trashy side of my life. The real Randi Sawyer. I mean, if you thought my mom was a mess, would you think the same about me? And then she wasn't wearing a bra.” This time my laugh is genuine. “And your shocked face. But you kept with it, stayed with me. You helped me even though you knew it was a fucked-up situation. What I'm trying to say is”—reaching forward, I link our pinkie fingers and hold my focus there—“I know what it's like to be entangled in your emotions, to not know which way is up or how to even see through it all to the light. I know what it’s like to deal with it on your own, to not have a single person there to talk to. It divides you between the person you know you should be on the outside and the twisted, miserable thing living inside you. Don't be that person. You don't have to be. You have me. You have T and Sarah. Don't separate yourself from us. Don't divide who you are to be half what we see and half what's really going on.” I draw in a deep inhale, trying to catch my breath from the rambling speech.

One finger and then another wrap around mine until all our fingers are interlaced. A soft tug and I'm blissfully encased in a strong embrace. Ear pressed to his chest, I relish the steady beat of his heart and calming warmth enclosing me.

“I'm here, Mess. And I promise to talk to you, to talk to T, when I’m ready. I can’t lose you, lose us, on top of everything else I’ve lost recently.”

“Lost?”

“My parents, my job for a while, my mon—” Catching himself, he seals his lips together. “A lot has changed.”

Tilting my head, I settle my chin on the hard bone of his sternum.

“When you're ready, I'm here. I'll always be here, Trey. Win or lose, we have each other. Good or bad, we're in thistogether. Never think you're battling all this alone. You'll alienate yourself that way. I won't push you to talk about it now, but know that even if I'm negotiating world peace, I'll drop everything to listen. This job is a job, not a life. You're my life, Trouble. Before as a measly candidate, today as the president of the United States, and in the future as a forgotten has-been.”

Relaxing a cheek against his chest once again, I inhale a deep breath. It won't be easy getting him through whatever this is, but nothing that’s worth fighting for ever is.

And one thing I’m certain of iswe'reworth fighting for.

He might have to hurry along the path of healing, however, not that I’m bringing that up now. This lack of communication is a minor hurdle compared to the months to come. With Kyle gone and the vital information we need having died with him, we’re up shit creek.

War is coming, and it will take everything I have to stop it.

Chapter Six

Trey

With one last peck to Randi's forehead, I turn, leaving her to wrap up work in the massive king-size bed. I check my watch as I stride toward the door. Two in the morning. Perfect time to slip out of the White House, if I can get one of my fellow agents to give me a lift back to the condo.

I scrub a hand down my face, the feeling of a headache coming on making my thoughts sluggish. Randi and I spent the last few hours talking over her three weeks in the presidential spot and the news that released today about Birmingham’s death. It’s a shit show, that’s for sure, but in true Mess fashion, she’s handled each incident like a damn pro, even though she feels as if she’s failing the people counting on her most.

Just over the threshold, I glance into the bedroom. As if she can feel my gaze, she peers up from her iPad, a wide smile spreading along that gorgeous face. My heart constricts at the sheer happiness radiating off her—because of me and me alone. Not thousands of dollars of roses, or jewelry, or a fancy dinner. Just me and her, talking, laughing, and holding each other, conjured that grin. Returning the smile, I swing the door closed, sealing her safely inside.

I wave to the agents, not meeting their knowing hard looks. I know what they’re thinking. Hell, I’ve thought it before when stationed outside past VPs’ bedroom doors. But it’s a little different now. This is the president, and I’m an agent. We’re not supposed to be together; it’s unprofessional and puts me as the butt of every inappropriate joke and innuendo.

One agent I recognize from previous encounters opens his mouth, readying to say something shitty no doubt, but the don’t-fuck-with-me glare I send his way makes him seal his lips shut, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a hard swallow. I have to get out of here before someone insinuates anything or I might pummel them, unable to stop before committing murder. Gerard was right—I'm nearing a snapping point.

Both hands shoved into the front pockets of my jeans, I travel down the short hall but divert at the last second, taking a left instead of a right, where the main control room is located. My feet and heart have a mind of their own, knowing there’s one more person I need to see before I leave here tonight.

My chest tightens as I stand in front of the closed bedroom door. Sensing watchful eyes, I nod to the agent farther down the hall, glaring. The door rattles under my fist. Hopefully she's like her mother and is still awake at this early morning hour.

A new round of nerves tenses my gut as the door swings open. But the sight of Taeler's smiling face loosens the growing knot in my stomach.

“What the hell, Trouble? Is everything okay?” The smile disappears as a worry line forms between her light eyebrows. Her soft blue eyes dart up, searching over my shoulder. “Is my mom all right?” She takes a step, hand at my side as if she’s readying to shove me aside and race down the hall.

I smirk at her courage to forget her own safety when she believes someone she loves is in danger. Just like her mother.

Hand to her shoulder, I hold her back from slipping past me. “She's fine. I actually wanted to talk to you about… well, nothing to do with your mother.”

“Me.”

“You.” I steal a side-eye glance at the agent who seems to be listening to the conversation. “Can we talk about this inside?” I ask, motioning inside her bedroom.

“I'm intrigued. Come on in.” Taeler moves aside, opening the door wider.

Inside I scan the room in search of a seat that’s not the pillow-filled bed in the center of the room. A desk and chair in the far corner catch my eye. After folding into the small chair, I lean forward, my clasped hands dangling between my spread legs.

---