enemies of the state (7 page)

“No, you’re dead on target.” Jack hitched his leg up, tucking one foot beneath his thigh. “Give yourself more credit. You’re better than you think. And you’re right. I don’t want to engage them on equal footing. I don’t want to give them that satisfaction. They invaded an ally. Seized Taiwan. Now, they want to go back to where we were before all of that? No, not while Taiwan is under Chinese occupation. I want to keep them on ice.” He frowned, twisting his lips before he spoke. “But something still isn’t adding up for me. Why invade Taiwan and then go dark? They haven’t tried to make a spectacle of the invasion. They haven’t pressed their military or any of our other allies. When Putin invaded Ukraine, it was years of posturing. With China, it’s like they want to be forgotten. And now this?”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. All his years in the Army, in the Special Forces, were sending warning signals to his brain. “I agree, sir. Something isn’t right. Could they be biding time? Saving up their energy for a bigger show? A bigger threat? Is this just a distraction?”

“Possibly. But there’s no indication that they’re making any moves like that. They’ve all but stopped trying to incite Japan into a conflict over those damn islands. On top of that, they’ve beefed up their aid projects in Iraq. Building new hospitals, along with about four new oil pipelines. But they haven’t scheduled any new military maneuvers, no exercises in the South China Sea, or anywhere near our fleet. They’re just…silent.” He exhaled. “Until now.”

“So, do you see what they have to say, or do you give them the cold shoulder?”

“They haven’t given me any compelling reason to engage with them. It’s practically a summons.”

“The President of the United States is never summoned by anyone or any nation.”

Jack smiled. “No, the office certainly isn’t. The man, Jack Spiers? I can be humble.” He rubbed his face, groaning under his breath. “Is there anything to this, or is it just them posturing and jockeying for acknowledgement? For equality?”

“I don’t know.” Ethan’s thoughts swam, tumbling around each other. “I’d play it cautious. If they haven’t given a compelling reason to engage with them, then they might just want to leverage this meeting as an acknowledgement, or worse, spin it as an acquiescence. They could leak the details to the press, and then it looks like we’re meeting the invaders in secret.”

“My thoughts exactly. There a lot of risks with accepting this overture.”

“And what do you lose if you don’t accept?”

Jack shook his head slowly. “Unknown.”

Silence, for a moment. The fire crackled as a log shifted, resettling in the grate. Ethan held Jack’s gaze, studying him. His heart beat faster. “What are you going to do, Mr. President?”

“I’m not going to accept.” Jack nodded once. “I’m not going to.” He leaned back, watching Ethan, seemingly appraising him. “Thoughts?”

God, he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be having this conversation. It was all kinds of wrong, six different kinds of illegal and had tragic implications for his career. “You’re more decisive than your predecessors, sir. It’s admirable.”

Jack chuckled. “You know, I’d love to hear your insight into my predecessors someday. Must be good.”

“Honestly, sir, not really. I try to tune most of it out. I’m not a politician. The sausage-making part of politics doesn’t interest me.”

Jack opened his mouth, ready to speak, when the lightbulb in the kitchen clicked on. Ethan leapt to his feet, standing over Jack instinctively, and reached for his holster. One hand dropped to Jack’s shoulder, steadying him. As if there’d be an intruder in Camp David’s lodge kitchen. Still, the instinct to protect was too ingrained, the urge to act bone-deep within him.

Jack stared up at Ethan, smiling.

A moment later, Daniels ambled out of the kitchen, freezing in the doorway. “Sir,” he said, addressing Jack and standing straighter. His eyes darkened as he turned to Ethan. “Agent Reichenbach. Need any help?”

Ethan tried to relax, but having Daniels catch him alone with Jack was almost as nerve wracking as an intruder. “No, thanks, Daniels.” He dropped his hands, letting them hang limp and useless in front of him. They felt like gorilla paws, useless and sweaty, and he shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargos. “I was just doing a final check before turning in.”

Ethan glanced down. Jack was watching him, his stormy eyes seeming to smolder beneath the crackling flames of the fire. Were those embers in his eyes a reflection, or was there something burning deep within? And that heat—that couldn’t be coming from Jack, could it?

Inhaling—
and damn that pine scent wafting from Jack!
—Ethan pulled away, tearing himself from Jack’s side. He was seeing things, imagining sights that weren’t there. He might want to believe Jack looked at him with something other than comradeship, but that wasn’t reality. In reality, he was out of line, projecting his desires inappropriately on his protectee.

“I’ll walk back with you.” Ethan crossed the great room to Daniels, leaving Jack behind. “Good night, Mr. President,” he called out, turning at the kitchen doorway.

Jack nodded back, waving one hand. “Night Ethan. See you tomorrow.”

Daniels was silent the whole walk back to the Secret Service guesthouse. He gripped Ethan’s shoulder, squeezing once, and then left him to his thoughts.

* * * * *

Just after dawn, knocking broke the serenity of the only morning Ethan and Daniels had to sleep in, shattering their day of rest and relaxation inside the confines of Camp David. Banging echoed through the Secret Service’s guesthouse, waking both men. Ethan jolted awake and then padded to the door in his boxers and T-shirt as Daniels studiously ignored the knocking and stayed in his bedroom, groaning through the door.

Grumbling, Ethan threw open the door with a glare. If whoever it was wanted to be a dick and wake him up like this, then they could deal with his grumpy morning growl.

He froze when he saw Jack on the guesthouse stoop, clad in running shorts and a long-sleeved Dallas Cowboys shirt, and stretching out his calf muscles.

“Great morning for a run!” Jack said with a smile. “Want to head out?” He frowned a moment later, catching sight of Ethan’s bedridden state. “Did I…wake you?”

Collecting himself, Ethan scrambled for words in his sleep-befuddled brain. Shock stilled him, blanking his mind. Seeing Jack so unexpectedly, and in his domain, sent his heart into a wild frenzy and his throat into the grips of a vice. “Mr. President,” he choked out. “We were planning on taking the morning off. Naval security and the Marines were going to pull shifts today.” It was considered a professional courtesy to both sides; the Navy and the Marines got the prestige of pulling personal security for the president, and the Secret Service took some time off.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Ethan.” Jack backed away, his eyes full of embarrassment. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just barged down here like this.” He turned away, heading back for the main lodge.

No, you shouldn’t have, but that’s my fault for letting you think that any of this is all right.
Sighing, Ethan thunked his forehead against the door, cursing under his breath as he watched Jack walking off. “Mr. President, I’ll be ready in just a minute.”

He shut the door on Jack’s “are you sure” and jogged back to his room. Daniels was cursing from behind his door, cussing out whoever had woken him up and at Ethan for not telling them to go fuck off. Ethan ignored his grumbles as he stripped, pulling out his running shorts from his duffel bag and throwing them on. He left his sleep shirt on and grabbed his hoodie, pulling it over his head. Nothing to do for his mussed hair. He grabbed his Secret Service ball cap and plunked it on his head. Socks and sneakers later, he was back outside, rolling his shoulders next to Jack.

“Shall we?” he grunted.

Jack was quiet as they took off. Guilt poured off Jack in waves, amid sidelong wary glances and pinched frowns cast his way. Ethan stayed quiet, unnaturally so compared to the ribbing and teasing they usually bantered back and forth in the White House gym. He kept his eyes forward, staring at branches and the wet, needle-covered ground winding before him.

He couldn’t keep this up. This had to end. Whatever longing and sexual fascination he’d developed for Jack, he had let it get too far. Jack couldn’t be seeking him out like this. He just couldn’t. It wasn’t right; it wasn’t appropriate, and he’d be lucky if he got off with a write-up and a reassignment. And for the president to ask him for advice about foreign policy? That was dangerous in the extreme.

He’d stayed up nearly all night, tossing and turning as moonlight crept in through his guesthouse bedroom window, filtered through the trees. Self-castigation turned to anger, which morphed into shame as the clock struck three AM. While Jack had been lonely, seeking out a friendship and some regular ole male bonding, he’d perverted the situation, turning it into his own twisted fantasy. He’d taken advantage of Jack's want of a friend, and he’d inserted his own desires.

This was why objectivity, distance, and non-involvement were so important. He couldn’t let anything get in the way of his duties, and oh boy, was this hugely blowing it.

He’d resolved to put distance between them. A Grand Canyon’s worth of distance. A chasm, in fact, furrowed deep into the Earth. Daniels could take over the morning workouts. He’d promote Collard into the lead on the president’s detail and take a more administrative role. He’d stay back, stay out of Jack’s orbit, and let this—whatever it was—die. He had to be ruthless. He had to be quick. Kill it entirely. One shot, one kill. Take out the threat and go back to normal operations. He’d excise Jack from his life. And he’d go back to the bars, pull some fresh piece of ass, and pound this out of his system.

He’d decided all of that as the clock struck four AM, and he’d finally been able to sleep a little while later.

So why was he running at eight thirty in the morning with Jack?

Anger clung to his bones, made his feet hit the dirt harder than normal. He ran faster, pushing his body in a physical exorcism. Beside him, Jack breathed hard, but stayed by his side. Worried glances burned on Ethan’s profile, Jack’s eyes tracking over his skin every so often.

Jack would realize this was crazy. That this whole morning was weird and awkward, and not all right. He’d pull back too. He’d have to. This just wasn’t normal.

Ethan worked hard to convince himself, repeating his decision inside his head like a bassline drumbeat, pounding it into his brain with every slap of his feet against the earth. By the time they rounded the last bend of the trail and headed down the final stretch back toward the lodge, he couldn’t think of anything else other than getting as far from Jack as he possibly could.

They slowed to a stop, breathing hard, and stretched in the back clearing behind the lodge, beneath the pool deck and near the guesthouse parking area. Jack was doubled over, hands on his knees, sweat dripping from his salt-and-pepper temples. He gazed up at Ethan from his slouch, a question buried deep in his eyes.

Ethan turned away. His stomach clenched. He swallowed, but he couldn’t shake the mass of guilt lodged in his throat.

“I’m sorry, Ethan,” Jack said between breaths. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

It wasn’t a bother, sir. Always happy to run with you, Mr. President. I’d do this every day if I could, Jack.
Ethan shut his eyes against his rebellious mind, throwing his decision in his face as his desire flared. He wanted to comfort and soothe, reassure Jack that it was all good, and take him back out for a more private exploration of the trails, and of his body. Start at the top and work his way down, licking sweat from his neck and stroking his skin. Seduction 101, his usual game. Seduce and sweep him off his feet, a whirlwind of sexual delight.

He squeezed his fists until his nails bit into his palms. “If you need anything security wise, Mr. President, the Navy and the Marines will be able to assist you until tomorrow morning. We’ll take over for the drive back to DC.” He nodded once, briefly meeting Jack’s eyes.

Jack nodded. He looked down, staring at the dirt as a bead of sweat rolled down the tip of his nose.

Ethan wanted to lick it off.

“Understood, Agent Reichenbach. Have a good day.” Straightening, Jack headed back for the lodge, his shoulders square, back straight, and head held high. He never looked back.

Ethan watched him until he disappeared into the lodge’s back door. Turning, Ethan trudged back to the guesthouse, slipping between the parked SUVs hovering around the door.

He whirled around, slamming his fist against the reinforced steel plating on the president’s backup SUV. It didn’t dent, but the pain slammed through him, rocketing up his arm as the skin across his knuckles split. Blood welled and slipped down to the gravel beneath his feet.

He had to cut this out, excise this fascination, this sexual obsession.

It just sucked to do so. It hurt, even more than it should.

Chapter Four

Rumors of American - Chinese Communications Chilled at G-7 Summit Amid Reports of Increased Chinese Aid to Iraq and Africa

Rumors swirled at the G-7 Summit in Turin, Italy, that conversations between American diplomats and Chinese envoys had chilled, perhaps even freezing altogether. China, while not a member of the G-7 summit, did send envoys to the world event, as did other nations on the periphery of the G-7 nations. According to one unnamed source, China attempted to reach out to American diplomats at the summit but were dismissed and not given an audience. “China demanded to speak with top-level American diplomats,” the source claimed. “China doesn’t have that kind of pull.” When asked if there were any meetings at all between the Chinese and any American diplomats, the source refused to comment. The rumors of a Sino-American freeze come amid the Chinese government publishing reports that they will be increasing their aid packages to Iraq and to East Africa. Totaled at two billion US dollars, the aid packages include the construction of hospitals, schools, and increased infrastructure, including roads, oil pipelines, and shipping ports.