enemies of the state (27 page)

Jack’s knees pushed at Ethan’s thighs, spreading them wider as his arms wound around Ethan’s head and neck. He pulled back, breathless. “Lose the boxers?” Jack asked, whispering.

“If you’re—”

“I’m sure.” Jack grinned down at Ethan, cutting him off.

Jack sat back and slid his boxers down his legs. His cock jerked free, rock hard and leaking. Ethan lifted his hips and shucked his own pair, throwing them to the side carelessly.

Slowly, Jack clambered back into Ethan’s arms, and between Ethan’s legs. Their thighs brushed and then their cocks, and they were naked together, rocking against each other, body to body, for the first time.

Ethan’s heart lodged in his throat, frantic and terrified and hopeful. Everything else they’d done could be excused, but being naked cock to naked cock, and writhing in the arms of another man, sweaty and needy and wanting, was a pivotal moment.

They moved together, bucking their hips, Jack on top and driving his cock against Ethan’s. Ethan kissed him and never let go, sharing breaths between nibbles and sucks on Jack’s lower lip. His legs wrapped around Jack’s waist, urging him on, trying to draw him closer. Jack was everywhere, all around him, his arms around Ethan’s neck, his thighs pushing against the backs of Ethan’s legs, his cock driving into Ethan’s cock, slick with precome. Ethan wasn’t used to this, to be being surrounded and enveloped by another man, but Jack was taking control, wrapping Ethan up in his arms and kissing him breathless. Ethan wasn’t usually the one being made love to, but he realized, in that moment, as Jack breathed a kiss against his cheek before burying his face in Ethan’s neck, that that was exactly what was happening.

Jack came with a gasp, moaning against Ethan’s neck. The heat of his come, scorching on Ethan’s cock, triggered his own orgasm. Ethan grabbed Jack’s hips and pulled him down, rutted up into the slick, wet heat, and exploded.

Pulling back, Jack beamed down at Ethan, breathless and laughing. “We just…”

“Yeah.” Ethan smoothed strands of Jack’s hair, sweaty against his skin, off his forehead. “Yeah. We did.” He licked his lips. Then, grinned. “Okay?”

“Great.” Jack was still beaming as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to Ethan’s lips.

* * * * *

Only two days later, and they were jolted awake in the middle of the night with the news from Nairobi.

It was too big, suddenly, to bother with hiding. Once they were dressed, Jack motioned for Ethan to come with him. He jogged with Jack down the main staircase, ignoring his agent’s looks of surprise as they breezed by their posts in the Cross Hall.

“What on earth happened?” Jack’s heels rang out on the marble, fast and clipped. “Where did this come from?”

Ethan scrolled through his phone, reading headlines as fast as they came in. “The Islamic Caliphate has claimed responsibility.”

“Is this because of what we’re doing with the Russians? Payback for the UN mission in Syria?”

“It’s got to be.” Ethan tugged open the door to the West Wing for Jack. “There isn’t a reason given yet. News reports are just saying that they claimed responsibility, but they’re not reporting a manifesto or anything.” They jogged through the empty West Wing, bypassing the night cleaning crew as they ran for the staircase leading down to the ground floor.

Jack stopped before the last step. “Ethan…I want you in there with me.”

“You know I can’t.” Ethan shook his head, pocketing his phone. “I’m not supposed to know any of this. I’m not supposed to be advising you on anything.”

“Or be my boyfriend, but you are.”

He couldn’t help it. Ethan smiled and looked down, trying to hide his blush. “Boyfriend, huh?”

“Yeah.” Jack pushed on Ethan’s shoulder, grinning. “You a commitment-phobe?”

Now was not the time for that conversation. “Go save the world, Jack.” He looked up and down the stairs before leaning in for a quick kiss. “I can’t be by your side right now. But I am with you all the way.”

Jack cupped his cheek, smiled, and then jogged down the last step and around the corner, into the Situation Room.

Later, after Ethan had checked in on the agents posted around the West Wing for the night shift and reassigned two agents inside the Situation Room, seated at the back, he prepared four cups of coffee from the White House Mess and piled them all on a tray. Ethan slipped into the Situation Room and passed out two cups to his detail agents.

He took the third to Jack, meeting his gaze briefly as Jack bounced rapid-fire questions off his national security team and the Joint Chiefs. Everyone was sleepy, but they had the wide-eyed look of adrenaline-fueled fright running through their veins. There hadn’t been a nuclear strike since World War II.

The fourth cup he kept, nursing it as he lingered in the background, trying to stay out of sight. Intelligence was flashing up on the screens around the room. A Navy commander onboard a ship stationed in the Red Sea was reporting details of their ongoing reconnaissance flights over Nairobi. News was streaming in from Africa—Kampala, Dar es Salaam, and Addis Ababa. The secure feed to the US embassy in Nairobi was down, and the secretary of state couldn’t confirm whether the embassy had been hit or not.

The deputy director of the CIA barged in an hour late, trailed by the NSA director. “Mr. President,” Gary Luss, CIA Deputy Director, said, dropping a pile of file folders and a stack of messy papers on the edge of the conference table. He had a cell phone jammed between his ear and his shoulder. “I have contact with the CIA station chief from Nairobi. Bill Dix.”

Luss threw the cell phone back to the NSA watch officers, who transferred the call to the secure speakerphone embedded in the center of the table. Jack leaned forward, taking over the call. “Bill, are you with us? This is President Spiers.”

“Mr. President!” On the phone, Bill coughed hard. “I’m here. Don’t know how long the battery will last on this sat phone, but I’m here.”

“Where are you? Are you safe?”

“The bomb went off somewhere south of us toward downtown. The mushroom cloud covered us, but that’s dissipated now. Everyone in the embassy made it into the shelters. We’ve got a lot of wounded. Lots of burns and cuts. All the windows blew, and the heat was incredible. People got hurt in the evacuation to the shelter. The ambassador is pretty banged up.”

“We’re already working on an evacuation plan for everyone there. We’ve got the
USS Truman
headed to the Med right now, and the
Arleigh Burke
is in the Red Sea. We’ll get you guys out of there and get you treated ASAP.” Jack nodded to the Joint Chiefs. Already, attachés were scrambling, working two cell phones each and typing furiously on secured laptops.

“Thank you, Mr. President. That will be very welcome news for everyone here.”

“Do you have any information about the ground situation, Bill?”

“Yes, sir.” Bill cleared his throat again. “The bomb leveled a crater half a mile wide. We could see it from the embassy. About a mile outside of that, everyone in the area was crisped up. Buildings blew out, and everything around here is on fire. There’s mass panic in the streets. We haven’t heard from the government. Military vehicles have been driving through the capital, and we’ve heard a lot of gunfire.”

“Is there any indication that this could have been a prelude to a larger attack? Any evidence of foreign fighters moving in?”

“I don’t have that intelligence, sir. I’m sorry.” Bill coughed again, sounding like he was about to hack up a lung.

“Bill, you’re just fine. Thank you for making contact. Sit tight, keep the phone near you, and we’ll call you with our rescue plan shortly.” Jack waved to the chief of staff for the Navy and then pointed to the phone. Nodding, the chief stood and jogged back to the watch officers to take over the phone call. Then, the speakerphone went dead.

The meeting rolled on, and slowly, more information and intelligence flowed in. Ethan hung in the background, catching Jack’s eye every so often. By dawn, the room was exhausted, buzzing from caffeine and running on fumes. They had a plan, though, to evacuate the embassy and any American personnel in-country, and a deployment schedule for reconnaissance flights over the impact zone. Intelligence assets were being contacted, searching for any clues or insights into the attack, and into what was happening in the broader terror world.

And, Jack demanded that the country spearhead a relief operation, beginning that day. A combined task force of military personnel and aid organizations were being assembled, along with decon equipment, food, shelter, and medical assistance.

“I want to address the nation at eight AM.” Jack rubbed his eyes and pinched his nose. His jaw cracked as he yawned wide.

Gottschalk, standing next to Ethan and fielding emails on three different phones, nodded and stepped forward. “I’ll get Pete on it.” Pete Reyes was Jack’s press secretary. “He’s already working on some early drafts. I’ll get with him. We’ll have something for you by seven thirty.”

Jack nodded. “Everyone else, report back in with updated intelligence as you receive it. I want comprehensive briefs on the hour. I also want to talk to the Russians, the Ugandans, the Tanzanians, and anyone you can get on the line in Kenya. And the British.”

And with that, Jack stood, thanked everyone for coming in, and headed out. Ethan fell in beside him, as did Gottschalk. The two detail agents trailed behind as they headed up the stairs for the Oval Office.

“You should get some rest, Mr. President,” Gottschalk said.

“I’m fine.”

“Mr. President.” Ethan glanced sideways at Jack. “At least try to lie down for a little bit.”

“Did you get any rest last night, sir?” Gottschalk shot Ethan a quick, dry look, hiding a smirk.

“Yes,” Jack said, at the same time Ethan said, “Not much, no.”

Jack glared at Ethan. “This is conspiracy.”

“Collusion,” Gottschalk corrected. “And it’s for your benefit. Try to lie down in your office, sir. You don’t want to look like a ghost when you address the nation.” Gottschalk tried, and failed, to smother another grin. “I’ll try to keep Agent Reichenbach out of your hair, sir.”

They stopped outside the door to the Oval Office. Sighing, Jack turned to both men, fixing each with a glare. The effect would have been greater if there weren’t dark circles beneath his eyes, belying his exhaustion. “I want to see one of you in there at seven fifteen. Not a minute later.”

Gottschalk and Ethan nodded, and after Jack disappeared into the Oval Office, they shared a small, tired grin before heading their separate ways.

Chapter Twelve

US Leads World in Providing Massive Aid and Relief to Nuclear-Stricken Nairobi; Announces Joint Air Strikes with Russians Against Islamic Caliphate

The United States has organized a massive response to nuclear-stricken Nairobi, assembling the largest aid response ever, just hours after the terrorist attack. Over twenty nations have committed significant resources to the African nation, and Russia has emerged as a strong partner in the humanitarian effort. Sources in the White House say that President Puchkov and President Spiers have spent many hours on the phone together, a sign of strengthening relations between the two countries. Also significant, the United States and Russia have planned joint military operations against the Caliphate in response to the attack on Nairobi and are cooperating with intelligence in the region.

* * * * *

“Hey Scott, you got a minute?” Daniels hovered behind Collard on the White House terrace above the West Wing, waiting while Collard finished a call on his cell phone.

Collard whirled around, eyes wide. “Jesus, Daniels. You startled me.” He slid the phone into his pocket. “What do you need?”

“I was called into headquarters this morning.”

Collard’s eyebrows shot straight up. “HQ? Why? And all by yourself?”

Daniels nodded. “Yeah. They wanted to ask me about Ethan.” Daniels licked his lips. “About Ethan and the president.”

“Shit.” Collard pulled Daniels away from the walkway, until they were tucked around back and hidden from view. “What kind of questions? And who was asking?”

“Man, it was the Director!” Daniels exhaled, shifting across his feet as he shoved his hands in his suit pants. “They called me straight up to Director Stahl’s office, and then he was talking to me one-on-one. Asking me questions about how much time Ethan was spending with the president. About whether I had seen anything unprofessional or in violation of regulations. And was there anything going on between the two of them.”

“Jesus. What did you say?”

“I said I hadn’t seen anything. And that, as far as I knew, there wasn’t anything going on. But, Scott. Shit, man. Should we tell ’em?”

Collard sighed and leaned back against the wall beneath the awning. “I’ll take care of it.”

Daniels nodded. “Thanks. And, you know, lemme know if they need anything. For real.”

* * * * *

One week after the nuclear blast, aid organizations and the US military had flooded Nairobi. Refugee camps had been built north of the capital, out of the range of the radiation and the winds, and away from the devastation, the disease, and the decay of the rubble. Thousands had died. Thousands had been incinerated in the initial blast, and the shock wave crashed through Nairobi’s shantytowns and business districts cramped together in the capital. Burned and decaying bodies lay in the streets next to twisted concrete and melted steel.

In medical tents, hundreds of people sweated and vomited through radiation sickness. Twenty died each hour.

The survivors huddled together, living in refugee tents and shelters set up by the bevy of aid organizations and militaries that had flooded in. Borderless Doctors managed five hospitals around Nairobi. The African Union had mobilized troops from Tanzania, Uganda, Nigeria, and South Africa. American soldiers patrolled the streets side by side with their African partners.

Random soccer matches broke out amongst the soldiers and teenagers trailing behind the patrols.

Through the fear, people were surviving.

Questions still lingered. “Why” hung in the air, unanswered. The Islamic Caliphate had been noticeably—suspiciously—quiet, and even operations inside of Syria and Iraq had dwindled.