That anger feels so… distant and strange now.
Especially now.
Everything’s changed in our world since that day.
Especially today.
Shit. I’m doing it again.
As I force myself to take long, slow breaths I ball my hands into fists and dig my fingernails into my palms to ground and anchor me.
I turn to him. “How’s the speech coming?”
Jordan’s gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Declan’s hammering out a draft for me to look at.”
I nod and drop my voice. “Leo?”
“Is climbing thefuckingwalls down there.” He smiles. “I’m throwing you under the bus on this one, too.”
“I’ll take the fall for it.” I glance around before continuing. “I’m going to have to fly out, aren’t I?”
“I think it would be best, yes. Ciro should be landing within an hour.”
“I’m not leaving until after I give the address,” I say. “If they were going to attack here they would have done it by now, not waited for us to get reinforcements. We’ll wait until after dark. Once I make the broadcast, have Angie call a lid and prepare to leave with us.”
“Yes, sir.” Jordan turns to go hand out my orders but I reach out and grab his right wrist, my fingers wrapping around his arm and feeling the two chainmail bracelets.
“I’m sorry.”
I understand the confusion rumpling his brown. “For what, sir?”
“I owe you even more now.” I tip my head, indicating the rest of the room. “I’ll make it up to you,boy.” I deliver that last word in a whisper I know no one else can hear.
The grimmest hint of a smile tries to emerge. “You don’t owe me anything, sir. I serve at the pleasure of the president.” Now his smirk peeks through.
“Yes.” I squeeze his wrist hard enough he knows what I’m doing. “You certainly do. Keep up the good work.”
The outer edges of his eyes narrow just a smidge, indicating his acknowledgement of this dangerous game we’re playing under the most deadly of circumstances. “Thank you, Mister President. I will do my best to keep you happy.”
Releasing his wrist after one final squeeze, I clamp my hand on his shoulder, an affectionate gesture no one in this room will question.
Except Jordan knows.
“Ask them if it’s safe to let Leo return to the residence,” I say. “If it is, have them bring him back up there. He can start packing for us.”
“Uh, he’s not supposed to do anything except not hurt his knee.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I have time I can head up and start packing for us,” he says. “Declan can go up with me. He can type while I pack.”
“Do it. If it’s safe,” I add. “Oh, and maybe confiscate his phone so he can’t call and chew me out.”
He finally smiles, this time genuine. “I’m sorry, Mister President, but that is one battle I will leave the two of you to duke out between you.”
CHAPTERSEVENTY-ONE
During the restof the afternoon there are more phone calls with governors and other state officials, as well as incoming calls of condolence from other countries, along with offers of any assistance we might need.
