“I thought we had some delivered before I went to visit myfamily?”
“We did, but I took it with me to the apartment to share with Lyosha.” Kyle shoved the ceramic coffee container away and opted to dig through the refrigerator instead. “Beeritis.”
“Grab me one,willyou?”
Kyle came back into the front area of the open-plan condo a few moments later, flopping down on the couch next to Jamie. He handed Jamie an open bottle of beer before crossing his legs on the cushion. Kyle could contort his body into uncomfortable-looking positions that never bothered him. Years spent as a sniper meant the only thing he ever worried about on a mission was his target, not his own comfort. It made their love life interesting, which Jamie would never complainabout.
“Your dad’s poll numbers are up,” Kyle said, eyes glued to the numbers flashing across the chyron running beneath theeveningnews.
They’d slept for half the day after their round of early-morning sex, but it wouldn’t affect their sleep schedule. Both of them had long ago mastered the knack of falling asleep whenever and whereverpossible.
“Yeah,” Jamie agreed, not bothering to keep the frustration out of his voice. He was home, spending time with the man he loved, not surrounded by the public with prying cameras and even more prying eyes. Jamie didn’t need to hide his true feelingsfromKyle.
“You don’t sound too happyaboutthat.”
Jamie nodded at the television where footage taken from his father’s latest campaign rally three days ago was being played. “He’s leading in the polls and I should be happy about that, but all I can think about is how stressful my life is going to be if he wins thepresidency.”
“The odds favor him. I mean, the vice president is polling in fourth place, and that’s with the tepid support of the president,” Kyle pointed out. “Your dad might be a billionaire, but he’s been a politician for years and Majority Leader of the Senate for a while now. That’s a better background for winning the presidency than a divisive former governor. Your dad has the insidetrack.”
“That doesn’t guaranteeawin.”
“If you’re holding out hope the Democrat or Independent candidates will beat your father, I have news for you. It ain’t gonna happen. They don’t have the money reach.” Kyle took a sip of his beer, not taking his eyes off the television. “You made any decision on what you’re going to do ifhewins?”
“I’m not leaving the MDF or the team,” Jamieimmediatelysaid.
Kyle nudged Jamie in the side with his elbow. “We don’t want you to, but all the digging into your background will getworse.”
Jamie tipped his head back and sighed. “Iknow.”
The situation was only getting more complicated. Ever since the start of the Pavluhkin mission back in January, Jamie’s background had become a murky mess to satisfy too many different parties. For the Pavluhkins, he’d been dismissed from the Marines almost three years ago, but for the media, he was still active duty, currently on a long leave to help out with his father’s campaign. The conflicting stories were held together by the thinnest of explanations—that Richard Callahan’s political reach and money could buy Jamie’s way out oftrouble.
It rankled, though, that his career and reputation were being dragged through the mud. For all that Jamie was dedicated to his service to the country, he was getting tired of shouldering a lie that turned him into something he wasn’t. It wore on him, and the campaign wasn’t making it anyeasier.
“I’m not giving up my team, no matter what my father wants,” Jamie said after a moment. He took Kyle’s hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m not givingyouup, in case you were worriedaboutthat.”
Kyle shook his head. “I’mnot.”
Jamie liked to think Kyle was telling the truth. They both knew where they stood in this relationship built upon a need for secrecy so they could stay together. Kyle’s family knew they were together, but only Jamie’s younger sister, Leah, was privy to the fact that he was in a serious long-termrelationship.
As much as Jamie wanted to tell his parents about Kyle, doing so would cause a separation between them Jamie knew he wouldn’t like. Ever since the mission in Tripoli, Libya, that had killed off most of his old platoon and turned him into a metahuman, Jamie had a difficult time trusting his team to the care of anyone else. When it came to Kyle, Jamie didn’t trust anyone outside the team with hislover’slife.
It was a form of PTSD that years of therapy still hadn’t managed to break down and bury completely. Jamie knew he would always have nightmares about losing his people in Tripoli, but the thought of not having Kyle fighting by his side was a particular kind of horror he would never be ready to face. He knew it was one which would come to pass in some way if he ever informed his parents that he was in lovewithKyle.
If his father won the presidency, there was no way Jamie or Kyle could escape that spotlight for long. It would be even worse if Jamie put action to the idea floating through his mind that had grown stronger over the past few months of making what they had together a permanent thing. The logistics would be headache-inducing, but that hadn’t stopped Jamie from discreetly enlisting the services of a top-tier Manhattan-based jeweler at the end ofsummer.
The designer zealously guarded his clientele’s privacy, meeting after hours around Jamie’s insane schedule to accommodate his needs. Jamie had been more than satisfied with the final product when it was finally delivered to him before he gave it to Katie for safekeeping. Hiding something from Kyle’s sharp eyes was difficult, but Jamie was determined to succeed at this personalmission.
Jamie knew he and Kyle had promised no secrets between them, but this was one Jamie was holding close to his chest until he found the right moment to ask the most important question ofhislife.
The sharp chime in his ears of his comms going off with an incoming call drew Jamie out of his thoughts. He glanced at the bioware embedded beneath the skin of his left forearm, frowning at the long string of numbers that shined throughhisskin.
“Shit,” Kylemuttered.
His military-grade bioware could only warn him the call was encrypted, but wouldn’t be able to trace the source. Only one person went through all that trouble to reach himthesedays.
Jamie answered the call, double-checking to be sure his bioware was recording it. “Callahan.”
“Ah, Jamie. It’s been a while,” StanislavPavluhkinsaid.
