“I’m awesome,” Luke assures, and decides not to turn his head and kiss his boyfriend’s cheek, them being in the damn Senate Building, and all.
Hal makes a pleased sound and pulls back.
He changes, though, the second they exit and step out into the rapidly-darkening evening. From sweet, dopey Hal to razor-sharp security detail. Head on a swivel, positioned right at Matt’s back, eyes missing nothing.
Luke shouldn’t be surprised to see a handful of media waiting on the sidewalk, but for some reason is. They hold microphones, their cameramen lurking behind them with handhelds. Luke spots the glowing screens of a few iPhones held above the heads of the others.
“If they ask you anything, just say ‘no comment,’” Matt advises.
“Senator Maddox!” they start to shout over one another. “Senator Maddox, a word?”
“Can we ask–”
“Our viewers want to know–”
“Senator, is it true–”
Someone shoves a mic in Luke’s face, almost clipping his nose with it. “Can you tell me what your relationship is with the senator?” a woman with too much mascara asks, her face right in Luke’s; he can smell coffee on her breath.
“I…no comment.” He takes a step back, knees loose and weak, stressed in a way he hasn’t ever been before.
Hal’s hand settles on his shoulder and his voice lifts above the din of questions. “That’s enough for now – the senator isn’t answering any questions tonight,” he tells the throng, and steers Luke and Matt away from them.
Luke is grateful to walk away, all the accusatory, disgruntled faces flashing past as he turns his head…
But there’s one face. It sticks out. The sight of it trips a warning alarm inside his body.
The reporters all look annoyed and huffy because they’ve been denied an interview. But this man – he’s young, he’s standing just behind a cameraman, and he holds something tightly in both hands, tucked in low against his stomach – looksscared. Luke sees the whites of his eyes, the flare of his nostrils. This man lookspetrified.
“Wait–” Luke starts to say, shoes dragging on the sidewalk.
And then the man moves. He shoulders past the cameraman and leaps onto the sidewalk, directly into their path.
Several things happen all at once.
The man shoves whatever he’s carrying into Matt’s hands.
Hal grabs hold of Matt’s jacket andthrowshim to the ground.
The man takes off running.
The thing rolls across the sidewalk. It’s a package, wrapped in brown paper, about the size of a brick.
“Bomb!” one of the reporters screams. “It’s a bomb!”
And then everyone’s screaming.
The bomb lies over a crack in the sidewalk. Beside a dollop of bird shit. It looks so innocuous, like a postal delivery.
“Luke!” Hal shouts behind him. “Get down!”
He turns to look over his shoulder and sees that Hal has Matt face-down on the concrete, using his body as a shield, covering the senator. Protecting his client. Protecting his country. Doing the job he takes so seriously.
Luke remembers the way Hal looked when he came home from war, battered and burned.
He looks at the desperate panic on Hal’s face, the way he’s breathing through his mouth and reaching toward him with one hand.
“Luke, please!”
