Page 32 of Escape into the Night

“Fuck me sideways, you're cute as fuck,” Caleb murmured, his lips tracing the slope of Elias’ neck as he smiled in response.

“No, I won't be doing any sideways fucking, love.” Elias reached back with a shaky hand to brush a sweaty curl fromCaleb's brow. “I did very much like the idea of you riding my cock though.”

“Mm. Same. I need you pinned down and writhing as I have my way with your delicious body.”

The shiver of pleasure his words inspired in Elias was a power-trip of the best kind. These moments were his favorite—the languid, sensual seconds immediately after intense sex, where they basked in the tiny touches, shared breaths, and murmured promises while still joined together, reluctant to part. In these moments, it was just them.

Chapter Eighteen

Elias

Twoweeksafterthegrid collapse, life was more or less back to normal, but it was a new normal for Elias. He straightened his tie in the small hotel room one last time before fiddling with his hair to get it to sit right—casual but well-groomed. Cay had touted the benefits of this laid back style for appearances, but he suspected the real motive was how it highlighted the silvery strands and gave the impression of having just crawled out of bed. He had to admit he looked more… approachable. A little less buttoned up, at the very least. A man of the people. With a shrug to his reflection, he departed the room and followed the harried man tasked with getting him to and from where he needed to be. He had a whole team now. It was a little overwhelming if he thought too hard about it.

A personal assistant, a stylist, and not one, but two bodyguards sourced and selected by Connor personally followed in his wake as he made his way to the conference hall of the DC hotel selected for this interview. His new normal featured a jam-packed schedule in their efforts to secure as many delegates as possible. If he couldn't secure the DNC nomination, thewhole thing would be moot. Given how late in the game he had announced his intentions, they had a lot of work to do. A touch of sadness crept in as he entered the conference hall to find even more people in a flurry of activity. He’d experienced this fervor from the sidelines when Adelaide campaigned for the nomination, and he'd followed along for the run up to her Election Day. It was a stark contrast to be on the other side fighting against her to secure the nomination.

“Mm mm mm, baby doll. You look scrumptious.” Caleb appeared out of thin air wearing his characteristic grin and wielding his padfolio like a General preparing for war. He stole a moment to reel his partner closer and press a kiss to his lips.

“Thanks to you,” Elias murmured, fighting to keep his smile from becoming too lovestruck. He failed, of course. The click and flash of a camera resulted in them both laughing. This was their new normal—sound bites and photo ops. The only saving grace was that he knew none of his optics were manufactured. He’d gladly give the world a glimpse of how madly in love he was with his husband.

“Did you run through your notes again?” Caleb fussed briefly, touching tender fingertips to his tie, pin, and pocket square before plucking a lint that might have been imaginary from the lapel of his suit jacket.

“Three times. I'm not worried about this one. Janine is a solid player.”

“She is, but be on your toes. You know how things get, and we’re really throwing a monkey wrench into this situation with Adelaide.” Caleb nodded, more to himself than anyone else, before stepping back with another smile. “Give’em hell, boss man.”

The makeshift stage was a hot spot of light in the middle of the austere conference hall. Rings of cameras, lights, and dozens of staff surrounded the seating area constructed for their interview.He had no clue where the plush leather chairs came from, nor did he think the arrival of carefully curated houseplants and table lamps was the result of the hotel's efforts. It looked almost cozy. Optics. He shook his head and stepped up onto the platform to greet the CNN journalist waiting for his arrival.

Janine Whittiker was a powerhouse for government reporting. Mid to late thirties, sharply dressed, and even more sharply prepared for this exclusive Caleb had managed to secure. She was the kind of woman who could be a boon or bane, depending on which side of her good graces an interviewee landed on. Once upon a time, she was a staunch supporter of Adelaide Montgomery. That was no longer the case, given all the events that had transpired. For now, Elias had her support. That could change with the slightest misstep. They shook hands and exchanged genuine pleasantries, but the hawk-eyed journalist was no doubt ready to pounce if the opportunity arose.

After another round of fussing and fiddling, they finally got down to business. The crew counted down the cameras, the lights turned ruthless, and his breathing settled with the calm familiarity of press briefings and negotiations, skills he had no doubt he possessed. Janine started them off easy with casual questions, a sort of meet and greet for the benefit of viewers. Sooner rather than later, they shifted into the heart of the matter.

“Mr. Cohen-Williams, the American people are scared.” Janine shifted in her seat, leaning forward with an unflappable expression. “The entire DC area was plunged into darkness. Financial systems were hit, transportation collapsed, and the government came to a standstill. Critics say this attack proves we are vulnerable in ways your party has consistently failed to address. How do you respond to that?”

Elias smoothed a hand over his tie before mirroring her engaged posture. “First, let’s be clear—this was an attack, nota failure of governance. And I promise you, the people truly responsible for this will be found and held accountable.”

“What about national security? We now know that sensitive government files were accessed during the attack. Do you believe this was a foreign operation or are you concerned about a domestic threat?”

Theo’s devastated expression flitted to the forefront of Elias’ mind, but he schooled his features and responded with the well-practiced words needed to address Janine’s question. “I have it on good authority that our intelligence agencies are working diligently to determine the source of the breach. What I can tell you is this—our enemies, both foreign and domestic, have one goal and that is to see us divided. They want chaos. They want fear. And I refuse to let them win.”

As the interview wound down, a heavy weight settled in Elias’ chest. For all his carefully chosen words, he had not told the truth. Not the full truth, anyway. Yes, the FBI was investigating the breach, but other agencies weren't investigating. They were fabricating the story, framing Theo and God knows who else. Not a single one of them had escaped the questioning, the investigation, the interviews to determine Theo’s location, the story they’d concocted about the Montgomery children's abrupt vacation to warmer climes. If it weren't for the Directors of the FBI and the Secret Service backing them up, the whole charade would have crumbled. He supposed it paid to have friends in high places.

“You did phenomenally. We're still in control of the story.” Caleb met him in the wings, pulling him close by the lapels and lowering his voice to maintain discretion.

Elias rubbed the nape of his neck with a sigh. “Are we, though?”

Caleb searched his face, quiet and unrevealing, before patting Elias’ chest. “Come on. We have a schedule, my love.”

His non-answer was all the answer he needed. They might have the story under control for now, but it was a tightrope walk Elias wasn't sure he could follow through on. One wrong move and it would all come toppling down.

The community center was small, tucked between aging buildings on the outskirts of the city and still recovering from the effects of the blackout. The entire neighborhood was still recovering. He understood on a practical level why the power had been restored in waves, why the center of the city had been prioritized, why the hierarchy had been established. The reality of what that looked like for the residents of this neighborhood niggled at his heart. Garbage piled on the curb, a potable water truck remained parked in the parking lot, and listless citizens wandered the sidewalks with hollow expressions, appearing lost and saddened despite the brilliance of the October afternoon.

With his diligent bodyguards and husband in tow, Elias stepped through the familiar doors and paused as the nostalgia hit him full force in the center of his chest. This place was important to him. This place was solace. He took a moment to breathe in the scent of coffee, old books, and painful memories. His gaze swept over the walls, taking in the flags from every branch of the armed forces as well as the memorial plaques and pictures glowing softly under the illumination from the overhead lighting. Without a second thought, his feet carried him to the far wall, to the photograph he'd hung himself eight years earlier.

“This is the same one Parker has in his room, isn't it?” Caleb tucked in close beside him, gathering Elias’ hand between his own.

“Mhmm. The last photo I took.” Elias reached out with his free hand to gently straighten the frame. “It was the morning of her last deployment.”

The bright smile on his late wife’s face in the photograph stung for so many reasons. He keenly remembered the fighting, the arguing, the tears that had come before this moment captured forever by his shaky hand as he prepared to say goodbye to his wife. If he had known at the time that it would be the last moment they shared together, he might have fought harder, tried harder to get her to stay, or at least forced her to hold her infant son one last time. But he hadn't known. Something like that was unknowable. So he’d settled for a snapshot. A snapshot of his wife smiling that brilliant smile, her face exuding pure, unadulterated joy over the opportunity to return to the frontlines to fight for her country.

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