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“Because you've always done things on your own, and you don't want to owe anyone anything.”

That's true. I went against my better judgment with Kyle, and look where that landed me. I thought turning the tables on him and making him choose me as his running mate would put us on equal footing, that I wouldn't owe him anything. What a cluster that's turned out to be. Maybe that’s also why I’m hesitant to trust Vlad, the Russian president.

“All I'm saying is trust him, Mom.”

She doesn't know the real reason I'm pushing Trey away. But could what she's saying somehow be festering in the back of my subconscious, altering my decisions and choosing my path for me, and that’s why I keep taking the option that pushes us apart rather than together?

Growing up near the poverty line was difficult. So yeah, I've done a lot on my own because, well, someone had to. I've fought for everything I've had and always been one step behind. Maybe this whole time, I've just been waiting for Trey to disappoint me or leave or just say he's done because that's my life.

“When did you become so smart?” I mumble with a smile, rolling my head along the soft pillowcase to face her.

“Always have been. Got it from Dad, obviously.”

That's it.

Reaching across the bed, I dig my fingers into her ribs, searching for her ticklish spot. Taeler lets out a shriek as she attempts to wiggle away from my prodding fingers.

“Get off me,” she screams while sucking in air between laughing fits.

“Never,” I say in a deep, evil voice.

She shrieks again, swatting at my arms and tangling herself tighter in the quilts and sheets.

A whoosh of chilled air bursts through the room as the door swings open. One of the beta team agents rushes inside, gun in hand, eyes furiously scanning the room.

Taeler and I both pause, eyes blinking at the unexpected visitor.

“Can I help you?” I ask, trying like hell to remember the guy’s name.

“What’s going on in here?” Finally his intense gaze lands on me as he slowly holsters his gun. “I heard a scream.”

“Just a tickle fight. We're cool.” I shoot him a thumbs-up. When that doesn’t ease the concern from his harsh features, I drag the other hand out of the covers to make it a double.

Yep, I'm a moron. It's cool. I'm actually starting to embrace it.

What’s the phrase? If you can't beat the weirdness, just go with it?

I swear I saw that cross-stitched on a pillow, or maybe it was in the window at Hot Topic years ago. Either way, the phrase rings true.

Another body steps into the room behind the agent. Taeler sits upright beside me, quilts held close to her chest as Sam steps around the agent, moving closer to the bed.

Of course he’s shirtless.

Not that I'm complaining. At all.

Low-rise gray sweatpants hang on his hips in that seductive way that begs you to tug them down to discover the bulge beneath. Because yes, there is a bulge. A significant one.

Trailing my gaze up from the spot my attention should not be on, I follow the happy trail north over a muscular stomach and defined chest. A smirk plays at his full lips.

“Randi. Taeler.”

“Sam,” Taeler says with a bite to her tone I've never heard before.

His features tighten, leaving little doubt that he didn't pick up on it too. What the hell is her problem? Earlier she was acting just fine around him; now he's getting the cold shoulder.

“Welcome to the party,” I say, gesturing to Taeler and the uncomfortable-looking agent still standing by the door. “Did you bring snacks?”

Sam shakes his head and smiles. “No, sorry. I heard a commotion and thought I'd come check on you.”