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I smirk ignoring my friend. “Sure, baby. I'd love to feel you behind me.”

“I said no.”

Randi and I exchange a quick look, both knowing what the other is thinking, and take off in a sprint toward my bike, Tank's demanding shouts trailing behind us.

24

Randi

I'm going to vomit.

Again.

Yep, I said again, because I've thrown up consistently for the last hour as I waited at home, nerves going haywire, for this moment. Now the time is here. Outside the Suburban's dark windows, the city zooms past as we glide through the downtown DC streets, getting us to our end destination faster than I'd like. If we never got there, I might be okay with that too. Not that I want us to die in a crash, but maybe slightly injured where they have to wire my jaw shut?

I shake my head and swallow past the anxiety lumped in my throat making it difficult to even breathe normally. Reaching down, I snag the spare bottle of water always stored in my side door and pull it free, the crinkle of the thin plastic breaking the tense silence.

Trey shifts in the passenger seat but doesn't turn. He's been quiet since this morning, not that I blame him. We did accuse his father of sleeping with underage girls and his mom for some pretty random kinks. Jessica, the smart woman, has already released a statement on social media that she and Trey are done. She also sent text earlier saying she was sorry for everything and was leaving for a few weeks to escape the media storm in Switzerland.

I wish I could forgive her, especially knowing that Trey's mom was behind some of the cattiness Jessica showed, but I can't. Not yet. I’ll give it a few days and revisit it then. It would be nice to have my friend back, someone to talk to besides Taeler and Trey. But once trust is broken, it's difficult to reestablish.

Only time will tell.

The plastic teeth of the bottle crack as I twist the cap. It’s almost to my lips when Trey turns.

“You okay?”

Lowering the bottle, I twist the cap back on and set it in the cup holder.

“Yes. No. Maybe. Can anyone be okay with what's about to go down? Knowing they're about to alter a country’s future?”

Understanding settles over his features. “Right.” A quiet pause settles over us. “Sam still pissed?”

I snort. Yeah, he's still pissed. When I told him I needed to do this alone—well, alone with T and Trey and the fifteen other agents at my side in case Kyle goes all violent on me—Sam was less than pleased. But he really didn't have a choice in the matter. We don't need the DOJ present tonight. We're not filing for impeachment unless we have to. It's still in the best interest of everyone to get Kyle out of the president seat sooner rather than later, before more damage can be done. Tonight we tell Kyle to either step down effective immediately, or we’ll present the evidence to the attorney general, who will then file for impeachment.

At this point, honestly, I'm not sure which way Kyle will go.

On one hand, he doesn't seem to be the type who will take being cornered without a fight, but then again, if we go through with the impeachment filing, everyone will know what he's done. Which will he choose, pride or the public’s perception? I don't care what excuse Kyle gives for him needing to step down immediately, just that he does, by eight tomorrow morning.

There are a lot of unknowns, which is why my stomach churns again, readying to push whatever I have left inside it up my throat. I hate this. We have a plan, but it could go sideways at any second.

Not ideal. We did plan ahead and request extra security put on Taeler. Even though the possibility of Kyle even knowing where she is over in Europe is slim, I didn’t want to take any chances.

“Can I have some of that?” Turning from the window, I catch Trey hitching his chin toward the water bottle.

“Yeah, sure. Haven't even taken a sip yet. I'm a little afraid it’ll just come right back up. The last thing we need is me puking on Kyle and ruining his political career all at the same time.”

“He deserves it.”

With a comforting smile, he takes the bottle from my outstretched hand and twists back around to face the windshield. Needing a distraction, I slide my thumb across the phone screen, causing it to brighten the dark back seat.

It was my idea to hold the meeting in a more public area. The Oval Office doesn't have cameras or anything that would protect us if Kyle goes postal. Instead, I turned this into an informal—or so Kyle thinks—dinner meeting at an overpriced trendy new restaurant close to the Capitol. Even though we have a private room reserved, it's still more visible than anything inside the White House.

“Why does this smell weird?”

I ignore Trey as I scroll through the few news sites, searching for anything new. Ever since I found out about the oil issue through Taeler instead of someone on my team, I’ve dedicated myself to looking through the news at least twice a day to make sure nothing slips through the cracks again.

“Where did you get this, Mess?” The tightness of his voice draws a bit of my attention from the phone. Without looking up, I give him a questioning “Hmm?” not understanding what he's referring to and not really caring. “Randi.”