Page 173 of Enemy of My Enemy
Sergey’s fingers slipped over Ethan’s skin, slick with vodka and blood. Ethan’s teeth ground together. He groaned, but he never let go of Jack’s gaze.
He blinked, over and over. His eyes darted down to Jack’s sweatshirt—Ethan’s Secret Service sweatshirt. “Jack?”
Jack couldn’t speak. He fought the swelling of his heart, the panic he’d held just at bay since everything had fallen apart, and stared into Ethan’s eyes. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I had to come find you. Iloveyou. I couldn’t let you go. I won’t leave you. Not ever.”
Ethan’s voice was wrecked, his expression wrenched apart. “Your presidency—”
“How many times have I told you that you’re more important?” Wet drops appeared on Ethan’s cheeks, salt splashes raining from Jack’s eyes. “I meant it every single time.”
Ethan’s free hand rose, grasping Jack behind the neck. He tugged, pulling Jack down until their foreheads were pressed together. Jack’s tears flowed over Ethan’s pale skin, and even though Ethan roared through the agony of Sergey’s rough stitches and Sasha’s wild driving, he kept his gaze fixed on Jack as Jack whispered that he loved him over and over again.
* * *
Chapter 58
Ethan was burningup by the time they got back to the bunker and fading in and out of consciousness. Scott carried him inside, jogging behind Sergey. Sasha ran with Jack, guiding him to the storage room they had turned into a clinic.
Jack lingered on the side as Sergey tossed two prefilled syringes to Sasha and Scott laid Ethan down on a ratty cot. Sasha pulled down Ethan’s pants, stripping him to his underwear, and then stabbed him in the upper thigh with both syringes, one after the other. Scott watched, glaring, and grabbed a blanket to cover Ethan, wrapping him up tight as Sergey primed Ethan’s vein for an IV bag of fluids.
“What’d you give him?” Jack slowly stepped forward.
“Antibiotics and a pain reliever. He will need both. And rest. He lost a lot of blood.” Sasha wet a rag from a water bottle and rubbed at dried blood snaking over Sergey’s cheek and down his neck.
“He will be out for a while. You should stay, Jack. Be here when he wakes up.” Sergey sighed, but he rolled into Sasha’s touch. “We need to go over some things.” He eyed Scott. “Would you like to join us?”
For a moment, Scott seemed torn. Stay with Jack, a man he’d been professionally—and now personally—sworn to protect. Or, go with Sergey and get firsthand information on just what they were doing out here.
Jack nodded to Scott. “Go,” he said softly. “Please.”
Scott followed Sasha and Sergey out of the dim corner of the clinic, the private space they’d tried to give Jack and Ethan.
Slowly, Jack settled down on the concrete beside Ethan’s cot. Ethan had always seemed larger than life, a fierce fighter, sleek and powerful on the outside and hiding quiet depths and a sun-bright core within. Now, lying on the cot, he seemed small, almost boyish, and his battered face made Jack’s stomach curl. He reached for Ethan, cupping his cheek. “I love you,” he breathed. “Know that. No matter what. I love you. And I’ll do anything for this love, Ethan. Anything.”
His thumb stroked over Ethan’s black-and-blue cheek, the edges mottled with yellow and green. His skin was hot and damp, sweaty with fever.
Every piece and part of Jack ached, worn through with his own bruises and his own injuries, and the weary turmoil his heart had been put through. He was forty-six, not a young man anymore, and even his bones were exhausted. He wanted to rest. Not just lie down and sleep, but truly rest. Take Ethan and vanish, disappear to some corner of the world where they weren’t locked in a pitched battle with a madman, weren’t dead men living off the grid, weren’t trying to find a way to live their lives, and the only guide stone they had was the anchor of their love.
That wasn’t for them, though.
He pitched forward, resting his cheek on Ethan’s stomach and his palm on Ethan’s jaw. The slow rise and fall of Ethan’s breathing calmed him, centered him, and eventually, lulled him to sleep.
* * *
Buzzing woke him,a clatter vibrating against his chest.
Dazed, Jack fumbled in his pockets for Ethan’s phone. The battery was low. The screen was too bright. He squinted, but his blurry eyes managed to make out the number dialing in.
“I’m alive,” he grunted. “We’re all alive.”
“That’s great,” Elizabeth said quickly. She was all business. “But I’m calling about something else.”
His eyes slid closed. It was always something else, something more. “What is it?”
“Moroshkin’s forces have initiated a polar invasion of Canada. Russian naval forces have breached Canadian waters and missiles are landing as far south as Toronto and Vancouver. Russian soldiers are on deck, sweeping south through the Northwest Territories. Towns are falling like maple leaves. They’re attacking Yellowknife as we speak. Capital of the Northwest Territories.”
Jack stopped breathing.
“Russian helos and fighter jets are in the air. Canada’s military is scrambling to respond and they’ve asked for our support. I’m granting it. We’re about to be in an all-out war with Moroshkin’s Russia in Canada.”
