enemies of the state (5 page)

“We could always do a pushup contest.” Ethan clamped his mouth shut. Who was this guy who stole his tongue and spoke for him in front of the president? He always said the dumbest things.

President Spiers laughed. He flexed, and his compact musculature didn’t stand a chance against Ethan. Where Ethan was buff and brawny, the president was lean and trim, a swimmer with a tight musculature and body. Even in his forties, the president was fit and tight, with only a tiny cushion padding his midsection. Ethan hadn’t boasted a washboard set of abs since he was in his twenties, but he had a flat stomach and a broad chest, and he’d never gone home alone when he wanted to pull at the bars. His arms, as big as some people’s thighs, pulled so many in.

“I’ll sit on your back for a handicap; then you can do pushups,” the president said. Across the gym, the bike spun out again, and the agent cursed, covering up their slip with loud coughing.

Ethan let it go, setting up his treadmill next to the president. He started slow, building steadily, but let the president run at a faster pace than him. He wasn’t a sprinter, but he could run for hours once he found his pace. A pace that was generally faster than the president’s. But he was doing this for the president, and that meant working out at his speed.

He kept telling himself this was all part of the job.

The smile on the president’s face didn’t hurt, either.

“So, Ethan?” The president was grinning, his face nearly split in two.

“Yes, Mr. President?”

“I was thinking of taking up kick boxing. Want to spar?”

“Don’t push your luck, sir. I’m already off the grid doing this. I’m not throwing a punch at you, Mr. President.”

Laughing out loud, the president threw him a wry grin. Ethan shook his head but smiled back. Jokes. Now they were doing jokes and teasing each other. Christ, he was in trouble. He needed to stop this.

“Since we’re working out together, you really can call me Jack.” This time, the president wasn’t joking.

“Yes, Mr. President.”

Neither was Ethan.

They ran in silence for the next twenty minutes, until the president signaled the end, and then they moved to the free weights.

Ethan felt the heavy weight of his agents’ stares on his back for the entire morning workout.

Chapter Three

President Spiers Visits Arlington National Cemetery for Memorial Day, Pays Visit to Deceased Wife’s Grave

President Spiers visited Arlington National Cemetery today to pay his respects as Commander in Chief to the nation’s fallen military heroes. President Spiers participated in a wreath-laying ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier before making his way across the memorial on a personal mission. Fifteen years ago, President Spiers’s wife, Captain Leslie Spiers, was killed in combat during the War in Iraq. She was laid to rest in Arlington National Cemetery. The president spent half an hour in silence at her headstone, in private, with only his detail nearby.

Islamic Caliphate Attempts to Shoot Down Commercial Airliner Over Iraqi Airspace

The Islamic Caliphate attempted to shoot down a commercial airliner on a flight from India to Berlin yesterday. Islamic Caliphate fighters fired anti-aircraft missiles, stolen from the Iraqi military and the former Syrian government, at the passenger jet as they cruised at 31,000 feet. The pilot engaged in evasive action, putting the passenger plane in a dive before diverting the plane into Azerbaijani airspace.

* * * * *

Spring and summer meant travel at the White House. It was a rule, along with “don’t touch the cookies baked for the president” and “never trust that a microphone is ever truly off.” First up was the G-7 summit in Turin, Italy. Ethan had already dispatched the advance team and everything was set for the president to arrive Monday evening. That just left the packing.

The president—
Jack
, a traitorous voice inside his head insisted—wanted to go to Camp David the weekend before the summit. Ethan gave Inada and Collard the weekend off to spend with their families and drove with Daniels and the president up to Camp David, along with 300 other agents and staffers in a convoy. A weekend away is what the president might have wanted, but Washington, DC, all but came with him.

Still, Camp David was a world away from the pressure cooker that was DC. Ethan had always loved traveling with past presidents up to the retreat, even with presidents he hadn’t liked. He’d take shifts in the woods, walking the perimeter or standing post out in the solitude, just enjoying the silence for once. Though it was only an illusion of being alone, the feeling of peace he got from those moments would sustain him once they returned to DC. Now, on the drive up with President Spiers for the first time, Ethan closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking in the fresh scent of pine and crisp mountain air, of kicked up dust and meadow grasses, and spring flowers bursting free from winter’s ground. Memories bubbled up through his brain, days as a child running in the backwaters of Wyoming, fresh pine logs crackling in fire pits, and fingers sticky with tree sap grasping at the rusted handles of his single-speed bike.

He opened his eyes, a grin lingering on his face, and froze.

In the backseat, the president smiled at him through the rearview mirror. “Love the woods, Ethan?”

“Mr. President, Camp David is definitely one of my favorite places. You’re going to love it up here.” And those weren’t just words. The president—
Jack
—really was going to love it. Ethan knew him well enough now to say that with certainty.

Morning workouts had become a regular occurrence almost by accident. Neither man spoke up about changing the routine or altering the schedule, and Ethan just kept showing up. Ethan let the other agents go, though, and it was just the two of them, alone, in the early mornings. The president was always there, always smiling. Some days they pushed each other, racing in sprints or on the stationary bikes, and other days they took it easy, jogging slow and trading stories from their past. Ethan knew an uncomfortable amount of truly blackmail-worthy stories about Congress from the president’s—
Jack’s
—days there.

His traitorous mind had never let go of the president’s request to call him by his name. It had become a struggle to refer to him by his title even in his own mind. He was at war with himself, trying to hold back from this man’s overtures of friendship, fighting and hating that restraint with every breath.

“I can’t wait. Are there running trails? Think we can go out for a jog?”

Ethan inhaled deep, ignoring Daniels’s sidelong glance. Unspoken in the president’s request was “think we can go out for a jog together?”

“We’ll send a team out and check the trails,” Ethan punted. “See if they’re in good order. Safe.”

The president—
Jack
— nodded and leaned back. He’d been doing that more and more recently as well. Instead of pushing, he’d close up, go silent, and look away. On the drive, he’d spent most of his time looking out the windows, watching the concrete jungle fade from sight, replaced by rolling fields and meadows and eventually the pine forest surrounding Camp David. Ethan watched him in the mirror for a moment before turning away.

Arriving at Camp David was an exercise in orchestrated madness. The staff and military personnel at Camp David took over, Navy stewards and military officers bustling the president around on a grand tour. They showed him the presidential lodge, the master bedroom suite overlooking the pristine forest, and the great room with a fireplace that took up one whole wall. They showed him the porches and the back patio, the fire pit, and the pool deck before loading him up in a caravan of golf carts and driving him around the grounds. There were two chapels, tennis courts, a golf range, hiking, biking, and jogging trails, and an animal preserve at the retreat, all for the president’s pleasure.

Ethan didn’t have to accompany him. The detail was almost superfluous there, secluded as they were on one of the most secure military installations in the United States. It was a pseudo-vacation for the agents as well, as they weren’t the sole layer of protection for the weekend.

He watched from the porch steps as the president—
Jack
—was escorted around and waved back a smiling “no” when he invited Ethan down to the golf cart for the rest of the tour. Daniels’s eyes burning into his shoulder blades held him back, as did his self-castigating conscience. They leaned up against the porch railing as the caravan drove off, kicking up dust and leaving them in silence.

“Gonna go check the trails?” Daniels eyeballed Ethan sideways.

“Yeah.” Ethan hesitated. “Want to take a walk?” He hadn’t spent much time with Daniels outside of their detail duties, and when they were on, they were on. There wasn’t any time for small talk or distractions. Catching up with Daniels would be good. “I haven’t heard about Annie Perkins in a while.”

“Man, forget that girl.” Daniels smiled as he sauntered down the steps, shaking his head and his long arms, seemingly shaking DC out of his system with a great breath of fresh air. “I’m enjoying the single life again.”

Ahh, one of those times. Ethan chuckled as he followed, and the two set off down the road before turning out at the main trailhead. Daniels let them walk in silence for the first half mile, and Ethan simply enjoyed the squish of the damp earth and the crunch of dried and fallen pine needles beneath their boots. Both had worn cargos and bloused combat boots for the drive up, along with their Secret Service polos.

The quiet wasn’t to last, though. Ethan was waiting for it when Daniels spoke up. “Why are you getting all buddy-buddy with this president, Ethan? You’ve been like the Iceman for the past three guys, ever since you became an agent. You taught us all distance and non-interference when we joined, two terms back. Now you’re working out with the guy on the regular?” Daniels shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

“The Iceman?” Ethan stalled.

“‘Iceman Reichenbach.’ That’s what they called you when they told me I was gonna be working with you.” Daniels let the moment go, watching Ethan as they turned down one of the side trails.

Swallowing, Ethan shook his head. “I’m trying to figure it all out, Levi.” He put one foot in front of the other, pine needles and branches crunching beneath his boots. “Distance is important. Critically important. You can’t be objective if you’re involved with the protectee.”

“You telling me you’re ‘involved’ with the president?”

“No,” Ethan answered quickly. “I’m just the detail lead. And, as part of my job, I’m trying to keep him safe and sane.”

“That what you’re telling yourself?”

Ethan sighed again. “He’s a good guy. Better than the last three. I’m not talking about politics or anything. I mean, he’s a good man. A good person.”

Silence. Then, “Are you attracted to him?”

“What?” Ethan shot Daniels a horrified glare. “What the hell, Levi? What kind of question is that?”

“I’d ask any female agent, or any male agent who is attracted to men, the same question if they were spending time with an attractive male protectee. He’s a good-looking guy, Ethan. I’m not into men, but I ain’t blind.” Daniels’s eyes were kind as he gazed at Ethan, trekking beneath the cyprus, juniper, and spruce. Holly bushes bracketed the sides of the trail, berries in ripe red bloom. Above, bird calls split the air, twittering and warbling between the branches.

“I’m a professional,” Ethan grumbled. “It’s out of the question.”

His mind warred with his heart, calling him a liar and a scoundrel. Daniels had called him out on it, had really called him out on the one thing he had tried to hide and bury and escape from. Physical attraction was one thing. He’d dealt with that before. His insides squirmed, his stomach twisting as he tried to swallow past the lump lodged in his throat. Daniels’s eyes stayed on him, watching.

Was is
just
attraction? Just physical lust? All this time, he’d been yelling, chastising, and berating himself for wanting to call the man “Jack” in the privacy of his own mind, and running up against the shackles of his own training, his own ingrained respect for authority.

Falling for a protectee was part of Secret Service Agent 101 training and summed up in one word—
don’t.

Why would he have fallen for the president, for Jack Spiers? Was it his nerdy appeal? That long, lean body? Or the stormy eyes and the Roman features? He had the look of a military man, cleanly trimmed, and that had always attracted Ethan, but he’d seen attractive men before and hadn’t compromised his professionalism. The attachés to the Joint Chiefs were some of the hottest pieces of ass on the planet, especially in their dress uniforms, but Ethan hadn’t been panting around the Situation Room for prizes they’d toss his way.

Was it, instead, the president’s—
oh for the love of God, Jack’s
—character, then? Those indefinable attributes that made him
him
? His quirky smile and the way he loved to poke fun at Ethan? His wry sense of humor, finally coming out and making itself known? How he lit up when he thought he’d made a human connection, and how lonely and alone he’d seemed those first few months after Ethan had taken over the detail?

No. No, he wasn’t thinking about this. He wasn’t going to allow himself. So what if he popped a boner for him every once in a while? It stopped there. No further. He wouldn’t allow it.

“I’m just trying to help,” Ethan finally grunted. “He’s having a hard time adjusting to a full-time protective detail. I’ll pull back when he’s got his legs under him. I was just trying to help. Just trying to…” His voice faded away, gruff and choked. “Be friendly, I guess.”

“All right, Ethan. Sounds good. Lemme know if you need any help when you need to pull back.” Daniels slapped one hand on Ethan’s back and let it linger as they walked the last of the trails back to the lodge.

* * * * *

Sometime around midnight, Ethan restlessly wandered the main lodge at Camp David. His thoughts kept skipping, lingering on memories of the president—
Jack
—from their workout that morning and from the prior evening when he’d walked him from the Oval Office to the Residence. The president had carried his suit jacket over his shoulder, hooked on a finger, and his sleeves were rolled up, showing off his arms. Ethan’s eyes had wandered over the skin below his elbow.