Page 95 of Hush
“That’s okay.” Mike nuzzled closer, as if he could crawl inside Tom. “I like cuddling.”
Tom wrapped his arms around Mike and rolled into him, and they fell asleep sandwiched together, a tangle of arms and legs on half of Mike’s queen bed as Etta Mae snored on the other half, completely undisturbed.
Mike woke with a Basset paw in his lower back and a raging hard on. He rolled Etta Mae over first and then woke Tom. Slowly. “To the shower,” Tom gasped. “I’m not ready to have sex in the same bed as my dog.”
They stroked each other, trading blowjobs and careful fingering, and then took their time washing. Etta Mae was still snoring when they emerged, utterly oblivious. Tom fixed her breakfast while Mike made coffee and grabbed two blueberry muffins he’d picked up the day before for them.
In the car, driving their circuitous route into DC before dawn, they heard the news on the radio.
“Overnight in Moscow, riots erupted again in the streets in front of the U.S. embassy. Rioters threw Molotov cocktails over the embassy fence, sparking multiple blazes that overwhelmed the Marines and destroyed a section of the embassy. The embassy fence was breached later in the night, and rioters gained entry to the U.S. embassy grounds and clashed with Marine guards. Six people were killed, and over 180 wounded. Russian police have surrounded the embassy, keeping all rioters back, but for the moment, no one is sure whether the police are there to help or to harm.
“Statements from the Kremlin condemn the violence but place the blame squarely on the United States. ‘Once again, the United States believes they can harm Russian citizens, this time on Russian soil. They fire indiscriminately into crowds of Russian protestors exercising their rights. The United States claims to support freedom of speech, freedom of protest, except when it is aimed against them. Their Marine forces were so overwhelmed by simple protestors that they reacted like cowards, shooting at unarmed civilians.’
“Reports from eyewitnesses on the ground suggest that the protestors who stormed the U.S. embassy were Russian special forces soldiers and FSB operatives.”
Tom grabbed Mike’s hand and held on for the entire car ride.
That afternoon, President Dimitry Vasiliev ordered all non-essential Russian personnel out of the Russian embassies and consulates in the United States. Two Russian subs were caught patrolling the edge of United States territorial waters. One off the coast of Maryland, and one inside the Gulf of Mexico.
The next day, President McDonough spoke at the funerals for the three slain Secret Service agents, laid to rest at Arlington. His speech was broadcast to the world, and he addressed President Vasiliev directly.
“These American heroes died serving their nation. Performing their duties to the limit of perfection, and beyond. These men made the ultimate sacrifice. They acted to help secure a better, safer, and freer world. True heroes act in the face of danger. True heroes rise to the occasion. True heroes ask what they can do, in that moment, to better the world. Whether that is to protect or to calm, to save a single life, or to speak and to act to save thousands, and perhaps millions more lives.
“The world hungers for peace. For unity. For freedom of all mankind. But, real, lasting peace in this world cannot come about while freedom is crushed by harsh words and savage actions made in retaliatory anger. The poet Aeschylus once wrote:
Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget
falls drop by drop upon the heart
until, in our own despair, against our will,
comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.
“These men, these heroes, are in the tender mercies of our Lord above today. And it is we who must endure the drop by drop of pain remembered as we live on without these great men. And it is we who must find, through all the despair of our days, the awful grace of God, and find the wisdom which these men ask of us. Their sacrifice must not be made in vain.
“The world is a difficult place. We are facing difficult times, full of uncertainty. But, together, we can create the world these men died to protect. President Vasiliev, let us tame the wilds of our countries’ hearts and turn away from the savageness of revenge. We must dedicate ourselves, together, to the pursuit of peace in honor of these brave men we lay to rest today.”
Thursday, reporters decamped from Tom’s house, figuring that he’d moved out for the trial. They still surrounded the courthouse and the Annex day in and day out, and profiles on Tom, Ballard, and Renner were nightly news staples. They scoured Tom’s past, hungry to speak with anyone who’d ever known him, who could provide insight into how he’d manage the trial. The twenty-four-hour news channels dissected his past federal cases, diving into his opinions and his motions and his papers, searching for clues as to how he might rule on a hundred possible scenarios in the trial.
Ballard, suddenly, went silent, not speaking to the cameras, not appearing on television. No leaks came from the U.S. Attorney’s Office, and the news media went rabid, circling through the same information they’d already dissected a thousand different ways, looking for a new tidbit to explore.
Tom stopped watching CNN. He couldn’t take seeing his face on-screen ten times a day, or hear commentators that he’d never met discuss his life, his decisions, his choices, as if they knew him better than he knew himself. More than half the time their commentary was wrong, and the rest was so full of superiority and assuredness that Tom almost started throwing things at his office TV.
Mike moved his laptop and his files into Tom’s office and worked out of the end of Tom’s conference table. Winters raised both eyebrows when he poked his head in, checking up on how they were handling everything so far. But, he didn’t say a word.
It was good, having Mike nearby. More than good. Having him nearby, in eyeshot, in stumbling distance if he really needed him, was a balm to his sanity. As he waited for the breaking news alert to scream across his monitor, shouting his secret to the world, having Mike nearby kept him from bolting. If he was left alone, the darkness would crawl up inside him again, the fear, and his old professor’s skeleton rattling and screaming that he was a fraud, a phony, and destined to die for his sins.
It would be too easy to run from Mike, hide in that darkness, if Mike wasn’t there all the time. Mike’s constant presence, his solidity, his unwavering commitment to Tom, was becoming the anchor of his world.
Chapter 25
July 3rd
Friday, just as the clock struck noon, Mike leaned back, stretched, and cleared his throat. He gazed at Tom, as if trying to figure out how to spit out what was inside him. Tom could practically see the gears grinding in his mind.
“Everything okay?”
“It’s the July 4thweekend.”
