enemies of the state (12 page)

It was exactly as it should have always been.

It felt like Ethan had scraped his heart raw with a cheese grater. His eyes lingered on Jack behind his sunglasses, wanting. No matter how much he told himself that this was how it was supposed to be, that this was how it had to be between himself and any president, the quiet, hopeful part of his heart—a part he’d tried to destroy, tried to bury entirely—mourned in silent, searing agony.

Ethan begged off Marine One, putting Daniels and Inada in charge of the detail back to the White House while he closed down Camp David. Inada had to get back to his family, he told himself. Even he didn’t believe his excuses.

Collard seemed to sense something was off, and he volunteered to help with the post-summit security wrap-up despite all of Ethan’s protestations. Hours after Marine One lifted off, taking Jack and the rest of the summit back to DC, Ethan and Collard piled into their armored SUV and began the long drive back to Washington.

Silence filled the truck for the first half hour. Collard let Ethan stew as he leaned back, napping behind his shades. Ethan’s jaw clenched over and over, the muscles bulging outward in time with his pounding pulse.

“How do you know when a woman likes you?” Ethan finally broke the oppressive silence.

Collard slowly turned toward Ethan, pulling off his shades as he stared at his friend. “That is honestly the last thing I expected to come out of your mouth.”

Ethan’s jaw clenched again, and held. He stayed silent.

“What’s this about?” Collard frowned.

Exhaling hard through his nose, Ethan’s hands gripped on the steering wheel, kneading the leather. “Seriously. How do you know when someone is flirting with you? How do straight people do it?”

“Is there…a woman that you’re interested in?” Confusion strained Collard’s voice.

“Scott, please,” Ethan growled. “Just help me out here?”

“What the fuck is this about, Ethan?” Collard’s voice turned hard, cutting. “What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know how you straight people fucking flirt, okay?” Ethan exploded. “I can’t tell when someone straight is trying to flirt with me, or if they’re just being friendly, or whatever. In my world, when I want a guy, I just go up to him and say so. I think he’s hot, he thinks I’m hot, and bam, we’re fucking.” Exhaling, Ethan’s knuckles went white as he clenched the wheel. “I don’t know how straight people do things.”

Silence, as Collard stared at Ethan. “If they’re straight, they’re ninety-nine percent likely to not be flirting with you.”

Ethan grunted.

“Someone you’re interested in?” Collard asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Ethan didn’t answer. He slammed down the turning indicator, jerking the SUV into the fast lane, and gunned the accelerator. “If someone was trying to spend time with you,
really
trying to be with you, and wanted your opinion on things, and joked around with you, and then asked you out for a drink, would that be flirting?”

“If we’re talking about a guy and a girl, then yeah, that’d be a pretty good guess. You could take that one to the bank.” Collard hesitated. “But if we’re talking about you and the Goddamn president…” He trailed off.

Ethan’s Adam’s apple rose and fell, slowly, as he swallowed hard.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Collard hissed. He whirled in his seat, leaning across the center console and jamming his finger into Ethan’s face. “What the fuck, Ethan? You said this wasn’t an issue. You said you had this bullshit under control!”

“I didn’t ask for this!” Ethan shouted back. “I didn’t ask for him to flirt with me! I didn’t ask for—” Ethan shut his mouth.

“For what?” Collard hissed. “What the fuck else aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing,” Ethan growled.

“It’s way past nothing, asshole!” Collard roared. “You’re so Goddamn compromised you’re beyond firing. This is everything that we are never supposed to do.” He started listing Ethan’s sins on his fingers. “Losing objectivity. Becoming overly familiar with a protectee. Inappropriate behavior with a protectee. And lying about it,” he finished with a roar. After a moment, Collard’s head whipped back around, glaring at Ethan. “And what the fuck did you say about he was asking your advice? Are you talking to him about political business?”

“He wanted my opinion—” Ethan began.

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ,” Collard groaned again, falling back in his seat. His hands rose, rubbing over his face. “Ethan, Jesus fuck.”

He hadn’t thought it would be possible to feel worse than he did after Jack had ignored him that morning, dismissing him as if he were nobody special, but Collard’s furious anger hit Ethan hard. It had been safe living in his insular fantasy world, where only he knew about his fantasies, and only he knew about Jack’s constant overtures of friendship. He was “handling it” to his friends and, behind their back, reveling in the forbidden. Suddenly, on a sunny afternoon in an armored SUV, it was all coming apart.

It felt like ice cracking, like a glacier fracturing, deep in his chest. He inhaled against the pain, the sharp, stabbing lances and the frigid chill sweeping through him.
Must be my heart
. His throat closed, and Ethan blinked fast behind his shades, trying to keep back a rush of hot tears. God, how long had it been since he’d cried? Twelve years? More?

“I didn’t—” Ethan started but stopped when his voice wavered, heavy with unshed tears. Collard turned his head, staring at his profile. “I didn’t ask for this,” he finished through clenched teeth.

“You didn’t do anything to stop it either.” Collard wasn’t shouting anymore, at least, but his voice was still hard.

“I didn’t want to stop it,” Ethan finally admitted.
I still don’t.

A heavy sigh, as Collard leaned forward in his seat, bracing his elbows on his knees. The seat belt stretched long, whirring through the buckle, the only sound in the cabin.

“You know the president is straight, right?” Collard finally said. “I mean, he was married. To a woman. He’s a widower.”

Lots of gay men were married before
, the traitorous part of his mind tried to protest. Ethan shut that down. He didn’t need any more false hope. False hope was what got him to this place. “I know,” he choked out. “And that’s what’s been driving me crazy. He’s not…” Ethan hesitated. Was he really going to talk about this? “He’s not giving me any signals like I’d expect from a gay guy. I mean, if he just wanted to fuck, we could have already done that a hundred times.”

“Jesus Christ,” Collard muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Thank God for small miracles.”

“What the fuck, Scott?” Hurt wound through Ethan’s words.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Collard groaned again, closing his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck that you’re gay, Ethan. You know I love you like a brother. But I am worried as hell about your career, and about your decision-making skills right now. This is
insane
, Ethan! We’re talking about you freaking out wondering if the president is flirting with you? Really?”

“Is what he’s doing something that straight guys do?”

“Ethan…” Collard’s tone held a warning as he exhaled.

“Scott, please. I’m going crazy.”

“No shit!” Collard snapped. After a moment, he continued, “I mean, yeah, straight guys do all of that. How did you and I become friends? We drank together, bullshitted together, laughed together. All of that. You weren’t confused over me, were you?”

“No offense, man, but I never wondered about you.” Ethan ground his teeth.
I never wanted you either. Not like I want—
He shut down his brain, gunning the engine to drown out his thoughts.

Collard sighed. “I’ve thought for a while that whatever you and the president were doing together was weird even before Levi came to me with his concerns. Whatever you two are doing, whatever kind of bromance friendship you’ve got going on, it’s strange. And you’re doing a shit job of hiding it.”

Silence filled the SUV again, save for the slapping of the tires against the road and the hum of the engine.

“What are you going to do?” Collard finally asked.

Wasn’t that the real question? What was he going to do? What did he want to do? Had he even let himself think about what he wanted?

His heart surged and then sobbed, and he inhaled sharply against the sudden pain. What he wanted was impossible.

He wanted Jack.

And not just in the physical sense. He didn’t just want to fuck and run. No, not a one-night stand for that man. He wanted everything. The American dream, the apple pie life. The morning after, and seeing Jack slowly wake up in his arms. His hair, mussed and standing on end. His lazy morning smile, sleepy in the sunshine. He wanted to hear Jack talk about politics and the world and how he was going to bring order to a chaotic, desperate, deadly planet. He wanted to rub Jack’s shoulders when he slouched, undo his tie at the end of the day, and bury his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling that damned pine scent, that perfect, heavenly pine scent Jack seemed to exude.

How could that ever happen? Their lives, their jobs, Jack’s sexuality. Everything was against Ethan.

“I don’t know,” he choked out, fighting back the lump in his throat. “I know what I want,” he quipped, trying to smile.

“Yeah, no shit. I know what you want too.”

“Scott, please.” Ethan shook his head, his shoulders slumping. “This isn’t easy for me. I don’t do…this.”

Finally, Collard seemed to look at him, to really see him. Ethan felt Collard’s eyes tracing his profile, roaming over his face, over his pounding vein in his temples, his clenched jaw, and the heavy sorrow clinging to him. “What is
up
, Ethan?” he finally asked, almost whispering.

“I don’t chase straight guys,” Ethan blurted out. “I fucking hate this shit. I don’t like reading signs, and trying to figure out what someone means when they say or do something. I hate it. I hate this shit. This fucking uncertainty. I like my simple life. I like just picking up guys for no-strings-attached sex. I never wanted a boyfriend. I never wanted to go through any relationship crap. Trying to find someone, trying to figure out if they like you, and on and on.” Ethan shook his head, exhaling hard. “That shit is hard enough in the gay scene. No, thanks. And trying to screw around with straight guys? Forget it. Just give me a good old-fashioned one-night stand with a gay guy. I like gay guys.”

“Until now.”

His damn eyes were watering again, threatening the corners of Ethan’s eyes. He blinked fast, cleared his throat. “Until now,” he grunted.

“You know, I wondered why you never dated anyone. I mean, you’re a good guy, Ethan.” Collard crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in the seat. “Sounds like you’ve gone and broke both of your rules at the same time.”

Ethan nodded, not speaking.

Collard squinted at him. “How well do you think you really know the president, Ethan? I mean, you work out with him, you’ve spent time with him off the record, you guys chat here and there. Is that enough for you to fall for him?” Skepticism colored his words. “Enough to throw away your career?”

A long sigh, as Ethan clenched the steering wheel, nearly bruising the leather beneath his fingers. “No.”

“You going to tell the president how you feel?”

“Fuck, no!” Ethan gunned the accelerator, pushing the SUV faster down the highway. “Are you crazy?”

“This whole situation is just a shit-show of emotions for you, huh?” Collard waited, watching Ethan’s nod, before he spoke again. “So. What are you going to do?”

“I think the president already did enough. I told him I couldn’t stay for a drink last night in his suite—”

“In
his
suite?” Collard’s jaw dropped.

“Yeah. Told him I couldn’t. I was his detail lead. He buttoned up, apologized for any professional misunderstanding, and then left. He’s given me the cold shoulder all morning.”

Collard whistled. “You just blew your big gay chance there.”

“Don’t say that,” Ethan snapped. “Don’t fucking even joke about it.”

“Okay, okay!” Collard held his hands up, surrendering. “Look, you did the right thing. You’re strung out, losing your mind, and pissed off. How much longer were you going to do this, huh? Pretend to be his friend while you really wanted more? Hiding what you guys were doing? Someone was going to find out, and you better be happy it was just me and Daniels who caught on.”

“Jeff knew something was up.”

“Jeff?”

“Gottschalk. Chief—”

“—of staff. Shit, Ethan.” Collard shook his head. “Look, just put it behind you. Move on. You get to keep your job if you kill this. Today.”

Put this behind you.
How many times had he scoffed at guys in the bars, wounded and hurt and depressed after the end of their relationship? He’d been snide, then, secure in his knowledge that he would never hurt like they were hurting.

Now, he was going to have to get over his own “man who got away.” He’d have to wrestle with the “what-ifs” and the “whys.” And over a straight guy to boot.

He needed a drink. God, he needed about ten.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “I know. It’s for the best. And you’re right. I don’t really know the guy. I shouldn’t be this wound up over him.”

Collard nodded. He reached across for the radio, turning it on to the satellite radio channel for hard rock. Bass threaded through the SUV, shaking the windows. “Forget about it, man,” Collard shouted over the music. “Really.”

Heavy metal took them the rest of the way back to DC, pounding and pulsing in the strained silence between the two men. Ethan stewed, lost in the wilderness of his aching heart and his swirling mind. Scott was right. There was no happy ending here, no way to sweep the guy off his feet and ride into the sunset. There was no future to this fantasy, no relationship, no morning wake-up with Jack in his arms. The only thing he could hope for was to salvage his job for the next three and half years—or seven and a half, if the president won reelection. Maybe he could ask for a reassignment. Work a different detail. There would be questions, and it would hurt his career. There were rumors that he was being reviewed as possible Assistant Special Agent in Charge for the Secret Service Headquarters office in DC. If he requested a reassignment off the presidential detail, he’d torpedo any possible promotion.