Page 50 of Power Surge

The contacts were a requirement of Kyle’s when we first hit the campaign trail, and now they’re just easier.

Kyle.

Those years at Harvard and the more recent ones with us despising each other, all the hateful words and actions between us, causes guilt to build within me. Pressing a hand to my belly, I attempt to ease the gnawing sensation those memories conjure.

“What's wrong?”

Hold the phone. Is that concern in Agent Smith's tone. Surely not. I must be hearing things.

“I'll never get to apologize,” I say, closing my eyes. “To Kyle. Yes, he was awful, terrible to me more times than not, but still there's something about that door being closed.”

“What door?” Trey asks.

“Resolution. Closure on that destructive relationship.”

“You need protein.”

My lashes stick together as I fight to open my lids. Blinking away the blur, I gape at Agent Smith. And I'm not the only one. Trey and T both wear dumbfounded expressions.

“Um, okay?” I say, not really knowing what other words to use.

“It's scientifically proven that a proper diet, filled with lean proteins and healthy vegetables, helps regulate moods.” My confusion shifts to annoyance. “Not moods in the way you're thinking. Moods as in guilt, depression, anxiety, and overall despondent thoughts. It helps fuel the body physically and mentally.”

“Isn't that what Jack Daniel’s is for?” I smirk. Okay, I can't be frustrated at the guy now that he explained himself. He didn't mean to offend me by hinting that I'm in a piss-poor mood. Even though he's right. “I'll think about it.”

“Seriously?” Trey complains. I swivel my chair an inch to the right so I can face him. “That's exactly what I just said. You need to eat.”

“This isn't a competition, Trouble.” Trey rolls his eyes and sits back on the couch while running a hand through his hair. “Plus, he's not just bossing me around—”

“You like me bossy.” A playful smirk pulls at his lips, a sexy gleam shining in his eyes as he looks up through dark lashes.

“Do not start that, you two,” Tank groans.

“He gave scientific proof.” I shrug and sit up enough to tuck a foot beneath my backside. At least I was able to change into different clothes the minute we stepped onto the plane. Nothing beats a baggy set of sweatpants and oversized T-shirt for comfort. “You can't doubt science.”

“There are so many flaws in that statement.” Tank shakes his head, but the barely covered laughter in his voice warms a piece of my heart.

“But I will concede to the fact that I need to sleep.” Stretching my arms high above my head, I work out the tightness from my shoulders. “Being almost assassinated takes a lot out of a girl. That reminds me, I need to thank and apologize to that agent. Who was he? The one I almost shot?”

“Wright, I think. I’d like to know how he got on that balcony,” Trey says, arms stretched out along the back of the couch, looking sexy as hell. And if his growing smile means anything, he knows I'm totally checking him out. Which who wouldn't? He's sexy as hell no matter what he's wearing or doing, and we kind of left each other hanging earlier. If a woman could have blue balls, I'd definitely have them.

“Blue ovaries?” I muse.

“I don't even want to fucking know.” Tank barks out a laugh.

“What's blue?” Agent Smith questions, casting a curious look between the three of us.

I attempt to chew on one of my broken acrylic tips, my lips spreading wide as I smile around the nail.

“Is he new? I guess they're all new to me since the previous beta team didn't move with you guys.”

“We've known most of them for a while, all good guys. There are a few new ones on the team, however.” Tank clears his throat like he's just stopped himself short of saying more.

“What,” I say. Not a question.

“A few didn't want to stay on the beta team when the presidential seat shifted to you.”

I lift my chin in defiance. “Because of my background, or because I don't have a dick?”

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