Page 272 of Incisive

I haven’t had a dissociative episode this serious in years, walking nightmares that leave me sick and shaky.

Mostly because I’ve had Jordan.

“Mister President, are you all right?” he whispers.

I finally nod. “I just need a moment.”

He’s a beautiful shining light illuminating my dark soul. It’s no secret why Leo fell hard and fast for him. Hell, I fell for him at first sight.

He stands there, waiting.

Always waiting.

Fuck, this isn’t fair to him. Right now he’s my faithful Sir, who won’t leave my side. Even if he’s light and I’m darkness and I don’t deserve someone with as beautifully innocent a soul as he possesses.

This was supposed to be several easy months ahead of the election to give Jordan a break, and here he is, back in the thick of the shitstorm.

I ended up near a bank of monitors so anyone else will think I simply walked down there for a better look. When I scan the room I realize the only one paying close attention to me right now is Jordan. Most everyone seated at the conference table is either on the phone or engaged talking with each other or heads-down over a computer of their own. Glancing at a clock on the wall, I realize I likely only lost a minute or two of time.

On a monitor in front of me plays a live feed from a police helo filming a house in California, where one subject has been cornered by law enforcement. Shots were exchanged and they’re about to fire tear gas now that they’ve ascertained the suspect is the only one inside and residents from surrounding houses have been safely evacuated.

There’s a legitimate fear the suspect’s booby-trapped his home, or might be heavily armed, and rushing in with officers could lead to more casualties.

Jordan watches me with an intensity in his hazel-green eyes that makes me want to drop to my knees in front of him and let him comfort me.

But I can’t. Not only because I’m Commander in Chief and there are too many witnesses in this room.

Mostly because I need to nut up and do my job.

“I’ve seen combat, you know.”

He nods. “I know, Mister President.”

I think he knows I’m stalling, covering, trying to hide the fact that I have no memory of even standing, much less walking around.

What am I saying? Ofcoursehe knows. This is Jordan Remington Walsh, a man who looks innocent and yet who can be brutally ruthless in the political arena.

Or even in the bedroom, before Leo was with us full-time.

Even back then, when the ruthless brutality ended and we snuggled before falling asleep, his gentle tenderness returned and he showed me the innocent purity of his soul.

And he owns every bit of me, the way I own him, even if Leo owns us both.

Thank god I never had to choose between them.

I feel the weight of Jordan’s gaze on me as I stare at the monitors. I remember the day Jordan was in here with me, right after he returned to DC to work for me while Shae was still POTUS. We watched a horrific video of a man’s murder at the hands of radical insurgents.

Jordan literally almost passed out. It was the first time he’d ever been exposed to anything like that.

I remember how I struggled to remain in my seat once I belatedly realized how bad off he was. To not jump up and pull him into my arms and hold him, soothe him, comfort him.

How I wanted to slug Leo for not immediately moving to usher Jordan out of here. That it was Kev who noticed and spoke up, calling attention to Jordan’s state.

Another failure on my part. Because I should have paid more attention to Jordan but I damn near puked while watching that video, both from the video itself and the flashbacks that slammed into me.

I couldn’t show it, though. Instead, I sat there and tried to think about Jordan and disassociate myself from what was going on.

Plus I was trying to ignore Leo. It was his first day back from a long trip with President Samuels. I was so angry at him for letting Jordan leave in the first place and, yes, I was being petty and wanted to punish Leo for that failure.