Page 17 of Enemy of My Enemy
“And you saved the world.” Scott wrapped one arm around Ethan’s shoulders. “Enjoy your life. Stop trying to worry yourself out of this.” Ethan snorted, and Scott squeezed his shoulder again, shaking him slightly. “I know you.”
Ethan’s smile faded, and he looked down at the carpet.
“How are you? Really?”
“I’m… all right. Overwhelmed.” He gestured to the bins of cards and thought of Irwin and the strike mission they’d signed up for. “Definitely way over my head and certain that this will all end up a disaster somehow, but…” He chuckled. “But I’m pretty damn happy.”
Scott shook his head.
“It feels weird not to be armed.” Ethan frowned and mimed reaching for the weapon that used to sit on his hip every single day. He’d had to surrender all of his weapons, even his personal handguns, to Scott after resigning from the Secret Service, as long as he was living in the Residence. “I feel naked.”
“Sorry I’m late!” Daniels bustled in. He shed his wool coat and unwrapped a red scarf from around his neck, tossing the snow-covered clothes on the back of Ethan’s couch, holding out a six-pack of Ethan’s favorite beer. “They just started plowing while I was making the run.”
“What the hell?” Ethan looked askance between his two friends, both grinning wildly and popping the tops of their beer bottles.
Daniels passed an open bottle to him. “First day celebration. C’mon, take it. You didn’t think we were going to let this pass without some kind of toast, did you?”
Was there a better word, a bigger word, than thanks? How could he convey to his friends, to these two best friends of his, just what their unwavering support meant to him? From hell and back, from the brink of the end of the world to his uncertain steps as Jack’s partner, they had never faltered, even when he’d been an utter idiot. “Guys—”
Scott grabbed his shoulder again and raised his beer bottle. “To the first gentleman of the United States. Ethan Reichenbach.”
Bottles clinked. Daniels whooped, and the three men drank. “Also,” Ethan said after he swallowed, “to Levi Daniels, the new head of my detail.”
More cheering, another clink of their bottles, and another deep drag from their beers.
“Harry said to say hi.” Daniels smiled, but it was tight. Their friend, Harry Inada, had transferred to headquarters and the intel teams. Getting shot by his boss in the Oval Office had made Inada reevaluate his priorities, especially with twin daughters waiting for him at home. He’d almost quit, but instead, made the transfer to I Street.
“Did you tell our new first gentleman his code name?” Scott spoke to Daniels but winked at Ethan.
“Oh no.” Ethan groaned.
“Not yet.” Swirling his beer, Daniels slowly smirked. “I can’t take full credit for it, though—”
“Under the bus!” Scott shook his head and took a swig. “Traitor.”
“This was all Scott’s idea.”
Knowing Scott, Ethan was up shit creek. “I’m scared to ask.”
“We always gotta match the first letter of the code names for the first family. The president is ‘Vigilant.’ So we had to pick a V name for you.” Daniels winked.
Ethan glared at Scott. “Victory, Valiant, Venture, hell, even Vegetable.”
“Ohh, Vegetable, I like that. But your code name has already been chosen. It’s deployed in the system.”
“Goddamn it.”
“First gentleman of the United States, code name…Vigor.”
“Vigor? Jesus Christ!”
“It’s accurate.” Scott shrugged and downed another drag of beer.
“Daniels here,” Daniels pretended to speak into his cuff, pantomiming a scene from the detail. “I’ve got BOTUS Vigor inbound for Vigilant. Make sure Vigilant is armed and ready.”
Ethan’s cheeks blazed, heat coursing through him from head to toe. “Jesus…”
Scott and Daniels laughed.
