by Liz Borino
Jordan nodded.
“Very well. Please let me know if that changes and you plan to travel,” Bryant said. “I would not recommend it. Dismissed.”
Chapter Seven
Aaron glanced up from his work at the sound of Jordan’s crutches squeaking as he entered the library. He planned to ask him to hang out for a few minutes while he finished the current assignment, but Jordan’s tense shoulders and wild eyes signaled that would not be a wise move. Aaron closed his computer as Jordan reached the desk. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“No. I’ll explain at home,” Jordan replied.
Up close, Aaron noted Jordan’s crutches shook and sweat moistened his brow. Oh God, this is bad. Aaron slipped the laptop into his messenger bag. Someone or something must have triggered a panic attack. Jordan only had one since he came home from the hospital a month ago. “Who was in the meeting?” Aaron threw the strap of his bag over his shoulder, and they made their way out of the library.
“Bryant. Please don’t ask me anything else until we’re home,” Jordan instructed and the two of them rode in silence, Aaron’s hand on Jordan’s leg. Upon entering the house fifteen minutes later, Jordan sat on the couch and started undressing.
“What are you…?”
“Shut down and unplug all computers, cell phones, and tablets.” Jordan handed Aaron his uniform. “Angel, please.” Jordan’s voice cracked the words in half.
Aaron bent down and kissed his lips. “Give me a moment.” He carried the uniform to the laundry basket in their room, dropped it in, and retrieved some sweats for Jordan. Aaron had no idea what was going on, but he did not need to understand to follow simple instructions. After he disconnected all the electronics, Aaron brought Jordan the sweatpants and sat down next to him while he put them on.
Jordan dressed in the loose pants, but disregarded the t-shirt. “I’m about to tell you things you don’t have the clearance to hear because I need you on my side.” Jordan raised his hand when Aaron opened his mouth to protest. “I know you are, but you don’t have all the information, and to truly help me, you have to understand everything, or as close to everything as I can remember.”
Intertwining their fingers, Aaron kissed the back of his hand. “You took off your uniform because it might be bugged?”
A ghost of a smile crossed Jordan’s lips. “Yes. It sounds paranoid, but—”
“You have to be safe. I get it,” Aaron assured him and Jordan’s shoulders relaxed.
“Afterward, I’ll ask you to tell me what happened here. Hopefully, we can construct a cohesive plan from both stories,” Jordan said.
Aaron swallowed hard. He dreaded the thought of telling Jordan about what led to Aaron’s acceptance of his death.
“Angel,” Jordan said softly, “I don’t blame you for anything you did after they announced my death. I wouldn’t have been happy to learn you were in a relationship with Hart, but I couldn’t fault you for it if you were.”
“I wasn’t,” Aaron repeated.
“I know. Promise me one thing before I start.”
“Anything,” Aaron said.
“Promise you won’t doubt what I tell you, no matter how crazy it seems,” Jordan pleaded.
“Jordan,” Aaron lifted his hands and brushed his cheek, “I told high-ranking military officials to go fuck themselves when they wanted me to believe you were dead without sufficient proof. I’m comfortable with crazy.”
Jordan blinked. “Did you use those words?”
“Eh, more or less. You heard all about the scandal I caused. Did you think I was polite about it?” Aaron chuckled at Jordan’s confusion. “I’ve never doubted your words or your instincts. Tell me. I’m listening.”
After kissing him one last time, Jordan began, “Remember when Bryant sent me home for refusing to lead an aid mission last year?” Aaron nodded, and Jordan continued, “That’s because the section of Afghanistan where the homeless were gathered was not Western-friendly. We lost soldiers every time we went near there. Bryant knew this. He said it was ordered from on high, and no amount of logic changed the major general’s mind.”
Major general, Aaron thought, the story coming together. “Troy.”
“Yes.”
“Something changed his mind, though. The mission was canceled.”
“No one would lead it. And the major general wasn’t doing a suicide mission.” Jordan rolled his shoulders back. “I have no proof of this, but I suspect he was the one to make the decision to switch you and Foster.”
Aaron thought back. Keller, his former boss at the CIA, had mentioned that the decision to send his coworker, Foster, was made above his pay grade. “Troy waited until the day you left to show his face at the office.”
“Yes. Here’s my theory, you and I knew too damn much. We understood the Afghanistan politics, had all the background information on Nadar, and had worked with the Loya Jirga before. Foster, on the other hand, was eager to follow orders.”
“But our knowledge base should have been a good thing,” Aaron said. “The point of the mission was to get Americans out alive, no?”
Jordan chewed his bottom lip. “That was our mission, but Hart was far more concerned with covering his ass. The United States government does not appreciate military officials who work with the enemy. He had spoken to Nadar several times while I was there and insisted that I knew the whereabouts of a Muslim leader, Jalalabad.”
“The one that went missing six months ago?” Aaron asked.
“Yes. What do you know about him?”
Aaron shrugged. “Only that the Afghanistan government has a hard-on for him. They think we took him during the raid nine months or so ago.”
“Did we?”
“I couldn’t find him in any of our databases. He isn’t a registered prisoner in Guantanamo Bay like they keep swearing he is,” Aaron recalled what he could of that aspect of the mission he had studied for so long. “He’s harmless.”
“So, he isn’t wanted by our government?” Jordan questioned.
“Not technically. They were a little suspicious when the Afghanistan government got so bent out of shape over his disappearance, but he was a well-respected Almin, and they didn’t want to lose him. Can’t say I blame them, honestly.”
“Why the hell didn’t I have this information?”
Throwing up his hands, Aaron responded, “I don’t know why you wouldn’t. His name was in multiple documents.”
“None that I saw,” Jordan told him.
Aaron massaged his temples. “They edited the reports you got, didn’t they?”
Jordan shut his eyes. “The CIA reports I saw were approved by someone higher than me.”
“Which makes total sense. We don’t all want to have the same information. That would be stupid,” Aaron huffed. “Okay, go on. Troy spoke to Nadar during the time you were imprisoned.”
Taking another breath, Jordan said, “The day I escaped, Hart had spoken to Nadar and told him that if I wasn’t going to tell him where Jalalabad was, then he should execute me.”
“That fucker!” It was Aaron’s turn to squeeze his eyes tight. Troy must have made that call two days before meeting Aaron at the theater, which made his speech about how supportive he had been to Aaron all the more repulsive.
****
Jordan took his hand in response to the anger painting Aaron’s features. “It’s okay.”
Aaron’s eyes flew open. “No! It is not okay. That dirty ass-wipe not only convinced me you were dead, he tried to kill you. How is that even in the punching distance of okay?”
“Because he failed,” Jordan said. Aaron swallowed hard and his shoulders began to tremble. Jordan pulled him into his arms as the first tears fell. His husband had managed to stay composed for most of the five weeks he’d been home, internalizing his emotions instead of going off on the rages Jordan knew he was capable of. Capable was the wrong word. Aaron needed those moments of venting to keep his head straight. To say Aaron had been dealing wit
h a lot would be a vast understatement. Even though Aaron hadn’t been dating him, Jordan observed a sadness come over him when they talked about Hart. Anger he understood, but the sadness always confused Jordan.
“I’m sorry.” Aaron tried to pull away, but Jordan held him tighter.
“Don’t be sorry, Angel. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Jordan rubbed his back under his shirt.
Aaron opened his mouth to protest, but leaned into Jordan again. “I apologized because I can’t be a help to you if I’m out of control.”
“I think you’ve earned a breakdown or two, love. You are a tremendous help.” Jordan hesitated, then asked, “Stupid question, what prompted it?”
“I don’t love him if that’s what you’re worried about,” Aaron told him.
“It’s not. You honestly think I wouldn’t have been able to tell that the day I came home?”
He smiled briefly and said, “I’m upset because Troy was the only one who stood by my side and actively supported me in my search for you. Your dad didn’t try to stop me, for which I’m grateful, but I was convinced that Troy was searching. So, when he handed me the picture… my mind didn’t go to Photoshop like it would have with anyone else.”
Jordan loosened his grip. “Can I see it?”
Aaron raised his eyebrow. “The picture?”
Jordan nodded.
“Are you sure?”
No. “Yes. It may not have been Photoshopped,” he said.
“How…?
“Please get it,” Jordan requested again. Aaron released a breath and walked to the other room. Jordan listened as Aaron opened a drawer and removed everything. He had to concentrate on Aaron’s specific movements or else his mind would drift to what he was about to see. Not many people had the opportunity to evaluate their postmortem pictures. Aaron handed him a grainy, black and white photograph as he sat down again. It was him, all right. Pale, wide-eyed, but him. He squinted at the welt marks on his shoulder. “Shock,” he said and passed the picture to Aaron, who set it face-down on the opposite side table. “The guards used canes to try to wake me from anesthesia.”
“Don’t they have medicine for that?” Aaron asked in horror.
“If by ‘they’ you mean medical facilities, yes, but Adeela was working with limited power resources.”
“Power resources?”
“She didn’t always get what she asked for in terms of medicine, and her husband often ordered the guards to beat me against her recommendations.” Jordan shook the memory from his head. He couldn’t flashback now. “When did Hart show you the picture?”
“The day I hacked into the CIA database. I don’t remember the date,” Aaron responded.
A smirk tugged on the corner of Jordan’s mouth. “You hacked into the CIA database?”
Aaron shrugged. “I tried to login in legally, but they blocked me when I was terminated.”
Jordan let a chuckle escape. The implication was that Aaron had no choice except to break the law. “What did you find?”
“The newspapers mentioned that you and Parks arrived with two security guards each. However, only three were mentioned in the media and database. I had asked Troy about the other one and he freaked the fuck out,” Aaron told him.
Jordan tried to conjure the image of that day. He could not remember the names of his guards. “One guard didn’t quite fit. He fidgeted during negotiations, and I was about to say something when the gun fired.” Jordan turned to Aaron. “Hart got scared at the mention of that guard.”
“I was on to something,” Aaron said. “I should have seen it.”
“Stop, Angel. I could not be more proud of how you’ve handled yourself.” Jordan brushed his cheek with the tips of his fingers. “I’m so sorry he hurt you in this process.”
Aaron embraced him. “As long as I can do this, I’ll deal with the rest.”
Jordan gave him a squeeze and replied, “We need to find the missing information.”
“I want to take him down, too, but—”
“No but. Bryant claims to be doing a search for the government official who kept me imprisoned, but he hasn’t found anything.”
“Which means he’s searching as vigorously as he did for you,” Aaron added.
“Yeah, worse than that, though. If they don’t prove that my execution was imminent, I will be court martialed in six weeks’ time for accepting favors from the enemy. He tossed the word terrorist out. We’re talking dishonorable discharge, if I’m lucky. Prison if I’m not.” Jordan let out a shaky breath. “I can’t take that chance. I would rather be dead than back behind bars.”
“I won’t allow either of those options. Court date in six weeks? Then we have five to compile evidence.” The hysteria was gone from Aaron’s voice.
“And if it takes longer?”
“We leave until we can clear your name. They don’t get to take you from me for even one day,” Aaron said.
“We can’t—”
“We can. It won’t be pleasant for a while, maybe, but I am not tolerating bullshit from people who don’t give a damn. The only thing we can’t do is allow them to put you behind bars.”
“I was strongly encouraged to stay in the area during the investigation. They’re watching us.”
“I’m sure they are. Let them. We’ll use our legal accounts to act normally and open a secret server to communicate with anyone who could help us. Would Adeela?” Aaron asked.
“If she can, yes. I also have to protect her from the terrorist label.” Jordan rolled his eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of it.
“You’ve talked to her since you’ve been home, right?”
“A couple of times through email,” Jordan answered.
“Then we can assume Anwar doesn’t check that,” Aaron commented. He sighed. “At best she could only provide a fraction of the information. Troy has the rest.”
“Yeah,” Jordan confirmed. “I have an idea, but you’d have to agree.” Aaron met his eyes in question, and Jordan continued, “What if you told him you wanted to be friends? Got him to trust you the way you trusted him?” Aaron scrunched his face in disgust, to which Jordan responded, “I hate this, too, but I can’t think of any other way.”
Aaron shook his head. “I’m not opposed to faking a friendship to bring him down. But he doesn’t want to be friends. When I heard you outside, he was seconds from… forcing himself on me. The surge of adrenaline from the possibility of an intruder was the only thing that stopped him.”
Jordan tensed as the meaning of Aaron’s words hit him.
“Sorry. I…” Aaron started, but stopped once more at Jordan’s raised hand.
“Also not your fault. I’m glad, really,” Jordan said.
“…glad?”
Jordan nodded. “Oh yeah. I’m thrilled to add another reason to kill him at the first opportunity.”
“Can we start there?” Aaron questioned.
“No, that will look suspicious,” Jordan answered, seething.
Aaron sat next to him in silence, then whispered, “Should I…”
Jordan turned back to him. “What?”
He licked his lips. “Offer myself?”
“No. Wait, that isn’t strong enough. Fuck no. That bastard does not get to touch you. He sure as fuck doesn’t get to touch you in pursuit of information for me.” Jordan grabbed Aaron’s shoulders and kissed his lips hard. “You are mine, Angel. Do you understand?”
One corner of Aaron’s mouth turned up. “I’m confused. You better show me.”
A ravenous growl reverberated through Jordan’s chest and throat. Aaron’s eyes widened as Jordan carried him to the bedroom over his shoulder. Goddamn crutch, Jordan cursed silently. He would have taken him on the couch, but Aaron’s height made that uncomfortable. Jordan rolled Aaron onto the bed and sent his crutch crashing to the floor. A smile now accompanied the shocked expression. Jordan straddled Aaron’s hips and took possession of his mouth as he worked the buttons on his shirt open. “There are too many of th
ese,” Jordan hissed. He nipped Aaron’s ear and neck, making no progress on the shirt. He pulled away long enough to tear open the material. Buttons flew in all directions. Aaron’s pants gave little resistance as Jordan undid the button with his teeth and pulled them down.
“Oh fuck,” Aaron moaned, kicking the pants off.
Jordan bit Aaron’s nipples, pecs, and abs, adorning his torso with hickeys. No man would ever touch his husband, especially against his will. The very thought of it lit a fire in Jordan incomparable to any he experienced before. Jordan yanked his fly down and whipped out his throbbing cock, coincidentally matching Aaron’s. “You like this.”
“Fuck yes!” Aaron stroked lube onto Jordan’s member, as if afraid he’d forget.
Ignoring the difficulty of maneuvering around his cast, Jordan hiked Aaron’s legs up and thrust in. “Listen close,” he growled between gasps. “You are mine. No one else gets to have you this way.” Jordan hit the cluster of nerves deep in his husband’s channel again and again while he cried out in ecstasy. They moved to their shared rhythm faster and faster. Right at the edge, Jordan stopped and said, “But I’m yours, too.” After they exploded white-hot cream, Jordan cleaned them both up, kissed Aaron, and asked, “Any questions?”
Aaron grinned and replied, “No, I’m good now, though I may think of some later.”
Chapter Eight
Jordan chuckled as Aaron shifted on the couch next to him, trying to get comfortable. “Aren’t you being melodramatic? It’s been two days. You’d think it was the first time we had rough sex.”
“First in a long time,” Aaron responded.
“Fine, no more,” Jordan said.
“I like how you think you get to decide that.” Aaron signed onto Skype on their secure server. Jordan had asked Adeela to call today so they could evaluate what information she had for them. He and Aaron decided that they would wait to involve Hart until they spoke with her.
“Should I not sit so close to you?” Aaron questioned.
Raising an eyebrow, Jordan asked, “Why?”
“Muslim woman?”
Jordan shook his head. “She knows we’re married. I wouldn’t worry unless you get uncontrollable hormones.”