Page 76 of Enemy of My Enemy
“Mr. President!” Scott crashed into him from behind, throwing his body over Jack’s as he ducked them both down, finding cover behind the gun carriage. Sasha leaped on Sergey, dragging him beside Jack as the Presidential Security Service and Secret Service agents arrayed themselves, weapons drawn. Screams echoed from the marchers, scattering away as Jack and Sergey’s presidential SUVs pulled in along the parade route, screeching to a halt behind the carriage.
In seconds, Jack was hauled into the SUV, still bent over with Scott draped over his back, bodily shielding him as best he could from every direction. Across the parade route, Sergey was thrown into his own SUV, covered by Sasha. Both vehicles roared away, heading together for the red walls of the Kremlin, opposite the Red Square.
“What the hell is going on?” Jack tried to sit up, but Scott and another agent pushed him down, lying him flat on the seat as they flanked him, weapons still drawn inside the SUV.
“A bomb has gone off at the Red Square, Mr. President. Looks like a suicide bomber. We’re getting reports of more going off around Moscow. We’re taking you back to the Kremlin and then evacuating to Air Force One.”
They zoomed through the Kremlin gates behind Sergey, getting air as they roared over the cobblestones. Sergey’s car wound past the Kremlin Palace and took them deeper within to the Senate building and the heart of the Kremlin, completely secluded from everyone else.
Scott and his men set up a perimeter before letting Jack out of the SUV. Ahead, Sergey had pushed his way free, but Sasha still stuck to his side with a gun in his hand.
“Jack!” Sergey jogged back to him, his suit disheveled, hair awry. “Jack, are you all right?”
“I’m okay.” His hands shook. Sergey grabbed his forearms, steadying him. “What’s happening?”
Sergey cursed in gutter Russian, growling. “The murderer. Madigan’s man. He had a dynamite vest under his jacket.” He cursed again, and Jack caught General Moroshkin’s name in the long string of Russian.
“How many are hurt?”
Sergey’s hands ran through his hair. He laced his fingers behind his head as he started to pace. “I don’t know. First reports said dozens. The square was full.”
Sasha had a cell phone to his ear and a scowl stretched over his face. “Mr. President, there have been five more suicide bombers in Moscow. Casualties are high.”
Jack slumped backward, leaning against the side of his SUV. Scott gripped his shoulder. Jack could feel Scott’s hand trembling through his touch. “What about Evgeni Konnikov’s family?”
Sergey ran his hand over his mouth. “Ilya is personally escorting the family now. They got out of there.”
Jack nodded. In his pocket, his cell phone rang.
He pulled it out.Ethan.
“I’m all right. Ethan, I’m all right.”
“I saw the news.”Tension thrummed through Ethan’s voice. Jack could picture him pacing back and forth, his lips pursed and one hand fisted over his mouth.
“Bombs are going off all over Moscow. The first was by the murderer. Madigan’s man. He had a suicide vest on.”
Ethan cursed, and a dull thump echoed over the line.
“I’m all right. Scott got me out.” He swallowed, and the coffin on the back of the gun carriage flashed before his eyes. “Ethan—” His voice broke, and he closed his eyes.
“I want you back here. Now. Safe.”
Scott was on the radio beside him, calling in their chopper to the Kremlin. Sergey was surrounded, Sasha on his right and another advisor on his left. Frowning, Sergey nodded as he listened to their fast Russian. One of Sergey’s hands gripped Sasha’s arm, as if he needed the steadying presence.
“I’m on my way. Scott’s getting us out right now.” Above, his chopper roared, the rotors whooshing over the Kremlin as it came down. Jack turned away, cupping his hand over the speaker. “Ethan… Ineedyou.” He needed Ethan, badly. He needed to be with Ethan, feel his body, his presence. Feel the clench of muscles in Ethan’s arms as they wrapped around him. See the light ignite in Ethan’s eyes, a brilliance that came just before his smile, a smile that was Jack’s alone. Run his hands down Ethan’s back, and run his fingers through Ethan’s chest hair. Watch him sleep, and feel him reach for Jack’s body. Feel his own heart clench, the force of his love for Ethan so overwhelming, so blindsiding that it scared him at times.
He needed to bury himself in their love. Let go of the world for a moment, and just be a man who had fallen in love with another man. In love with Ethan.
“I’m here, Jack. Always. Come home to me.”
* * *
White House
Ethan endedthe call and braced himself against the window in his office, leaning heavily on his forearm over his head. Eyes closed, he tried to block out the breaking news, the reporter’s voice saying Jack and Sergey had been whisked away from the funeral. The bombs going off. Numbers of casualties. Anchors arguing back and forth about Sergey’s decision to hold the funeral—and make himself and Jack targets—and the Russian military’s absence, their maneuvers outside of Moscow.
“Do you want to take a break, sir?”
