Page 119 of Enemy of My Enemy

Jack nodded. “All right. Sounds good.” He closed his eyes again and then snapped them open when Ethan’s wide smile blazed in the darkness behind his eyelids.

“Jack?” Elizabeth leaned in, trying to catch his gaze. “Are you okay?”

“No. I’m very, very far from okay.”

* * *

He canceledhis appointments for the rest of the week and hid in the Oval Office after the disastrous briefing in the Situation Room. Irwin and Elizabeth promised to stay on top of the operations in Russia and bring him regular updates. He tried to text Sergey, but the message bounced back, undeliverable. Cell service was barely functional in Russia, disabled by Moroshkin. They needed to get cell towers to Sergey’s insurgency, get their service up again.

He was supposed to be working, supposed to be figuring out how to save the world, save his friends, protect America, but instead he sat slumped at his desk, his head buried in his palms.

Knocking at the office door, finally, made him stir. “Come in.”

Pete and Gus poked their heads in, hard looks on their faces.

God, he did not want to do this. “What’s up?”

“Mr. President, we have to talk about the current situation.” Pete’s expression shifted, his jaw clenching as he strode toward Jack’s desk.

He inhaled deeply. “Which situation, Pete?”

“Yourwife, Mr. President.” Gus squinted at Jack. “The press is going crazy. You guys have released exactlyjack shitabout what happened with her rescue, and rumors are flying. And people have noticed that someone is missing at the White House. Where’s Reichenbach?”

Pete looked down at his feet.

Where’s Reichenbach?echoed in Jack’s chest, bouncing off his ribs and sinking to his curdled stomach. “The White House doesn’t comment on the personal lives—”

“No, no, no!” Gus interrupted Jack. “We don’tdothat shit anymore, remember? We changed our tone and we can’t go back now.”

“What do you want me to say? What the hell do you want me to say about this, when I don’t even know what the fuck is going on?”

“You want my advice?” Gus’s voice rose with Jack’s until they were both shouting. “Dump Reichenbach for good! Stick with your wife! Play up the rescuer angle and how devoted you are to her. The public loves hero stories, and you’ll poll a hell of a lot better with your hero wife back from being held captive, and probably tortured for years, on your arm instead of her being tossed aside for a piece of dick.”

Jack’s jaw dropped. He stopped breathing.

“You are going to be forgotten as ‘that gay president’ if you don’t ditch Reichenbach,right now.”

“Howdareyou…”

Gus ignored him. “Your legacy—”

“I have done important things in this office!” Jack’s teeth clenched and his voice shook, rage underlying his words. “I’ve dedicated myheartandsoulto this presidency. To the world!”

“No one cares! No one cares about the details. The public wants someone they can like. Nixon opened China; does anyone give afuckabout his legacy? Anyone say he’s their favorite president? What hedidfor the people, for the world, doesn’t matter! How he’s rememberedis!”

Silence.

“The choices you makeright nowwill define you, Mr. President. Be remembered forever for being a white knight. Or fade away as the public chews you up and spits you out. Another forgotten, meaningless president.”

He was shaking, trembling, and he couldn’t stop. White-hot rage raced through him, searing his bones. “I. Matter,” Jack hissed. “Imatter, and who I’m with doesn’t change that.”

“Grow up! Who you choose to fuckdoesmatter. You made a big Goddamn deal out of being bisexual, Mr. President. Time to prove it. Stick with yourwife. Dump this gay thing. End it. Now!”

He thought about murder for a moment. About launching across the desk, grabbing Gus by the neck and squeezing his hands around his throat. Squeezing so tight, until Gus was down on his knees, gasping for breath, begging for forgiveness.

Exhaling hard, Jack turned away.

Pictures of him and Ethan were scattered on the table behind his desk. Smiling in the Rose Garden. A selfie on the couch. The Christmas ball. His heart stuttered, wailing, and his lungs refused to work.