Page 129 of Enemy of My Enemy
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Anti-Moroshkin Insurgency Gains Strength in Southern Russia;
US Launches Airstrikes in Support
An insurgency mounted against General Moroshkin’s coup is gaining strength, based out of southwestern Russia in the Caucasus, from Sochi all the way to Kazakhstan and beginning to stretch into the Volga valley. Former federal and local police have flocked to the insurgent movement, reportedly led by the deposed President Puchkov.
The United States led a series of NATO air strikes against Moroshkin’s forces in the region, hoping to give the insurgents some cover and protection against the general’s forces.
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Chapter 44
Silver Springs, Maryland
Scott and Danielswent back to the White House the next morning, leaving Ethan alone in Scott’s empty house.
“There’s food in the kitchen. And we got you some clothes.” Scott kicked the bags Daniels had brought in. “Thought you might need something, until—”
Until he figured out what to do next.
Where do you go from here, Ethan? Where do you go when your life shatters and everything you planned for evaporates? You’re forty-one, and you changed everything for this man. Your job, your home, your whole world. What’s left for you now?
He ended up flat on his back on Scott’s couch, slowing working his way through Scott’s bottle of whiskey. He’d drift off, lapsing into unconsciousness masquerading as sleep. Dreams evaded him, his mind, instead, replaying memory after memory. They were so real, so vivid, that he’d wake up reaching for Jack, or laughing at his ridiculous jokes.
And then his eyes would open, and he’d see Scott’s ceiling, he’d taste the whiskey and bile in the back of his throat, and it would all come crashing back. He’d grab the whiskey again and take another swig straight from the bottle.
He’d given up the tumbler a long time ago.
One day of whiskey and wallowing, and then he’d figure out what to do.
But for now, he lay back and let the darkness claim him again.
Jack’s flushed face and kiss-red lips hovered over him, his hips grinding over Ethan’s cock as he worked himself down. His face was half in shadow, but his eyes were burning, staring down at Ethan like his soul was the sun. Ethan’s hands slid up his sides, over his shoulders, and his fingers carded through his hair. He tried to pull him closer, tried to kiss him. “Ethan,” his dream Jack breathed.
The voice was all wrong. Ethan frowned, staring at Jack as he kept grinding. “Ethan.Ethan!”
A hard shove on his shoulder jerked him awake. He flailed, his arms pinwheeling as he struggled to sit up. He managed to grab a leather couch cushion in one hand and get one foot down on the carpet, but nothing else. Bleary, he blinked and let his head fall back, his eyes closing. It was probably Scott, about to ream him for drinking his whiskey.
“It’s a law, I think. That you’re allowed to fall completely apart when it feels like your world has ended. When you’ve lost the one you love.”
Eyes wide open, Ethan scrambled up, hauling himself to his ass on the couch and glaring across the study.
Lawrence Irwin stood beside the coffee table, staring at him with his eyebrows arched and the half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hands. “You planning on drinking until the pain stops?”
His head screamed, the blinding roar of a whiskey hangover. “Something like that.”
“Doesn’t work. I tried it, too.” Irwin set the bottle down on Scott’s desk. “My wife passed away thirteen years ago. Cancer. I thought the same thing, for a little while.”
Jesus Christ. If he never, ever heard the word “wife” again, it would be too soon. Ethan rubbed his eyelids, pressing on his eyeballs.
Irwin kept going. “I get what the president is going through. If Kathy walked through the door right now, you had better believe I’d be right at her side.”
Ethan glared up at Irwin. “This pep talk supposed to be helping?”
“Jack’s not seeing clearly right now.”
Ethan snorted and buried his face in his hands. “He’s still made his choice, and as you said, you understand him.”
