Kim Baldwin - The Gemini Deception

“Options.”

“I can either bury or burn you. I’m open to both.”

“The options, arrogant friend, are for you.”

“Interesting. Do enlighten me.”

“You are either going to come to me out of your own free will, or I am going to force you.”

“Chilling scenario,” Jack said as she slathered some mayo on a piece of bread. “You should sell the movie rights.”

“I see the financial possibilities in that.” TQ laughed. “But I’m holding out for a conclusion.”

“I hate to keep you in anticipation, so here’s how many fucks I give: I’m holding up a finger. Guess which one.”

“Although I’m enjoying the banter, this conversation is becoming more counterproductive by the retort, and I’m a very busy woman. I suggest we bring it to a close fairly soon.”

“Good, because I’ve gotten more excitement out of a Cracker Jack box, and I’ve got things to do myself,” Jack replied. “That BLT ain’t gonna eat itself.”

“Very well.” TQ paused. “You either come to me, or I can come and get you.”

“I’m more than willing to meet you in person,” Jack said.

“And what would you do once we met?”

“Pretty much the same as you, and something tells me that doesn’t include dinner and drinks.”

“You’re wrong, Jack. I don’t want to hurt you. I merely want your cooperation.”

“Explain.”

“I want you to work for me,” TQ said.

“Say what?”

“You come highly recommended.”

“Have you been taking expired drugs?”

“I’ve experienced firsthand how…capable you are.”

“It doesn’t take a lot of skill to execute point-blank,” she said.

“But it takes a lot of nerve to kill someone like my brother.”

“Not really, him being a cripple and all.”

TQ chuckled. “It’s not polite to mock the physically challenged.”

Jack took a bite of her sandwich. “It is when they’re organ-stealing murderers. In other words, deranged assholes. Pretty much like you.”

“My brother was a talentless little man who depended on me for a reason—to wheel his sorry existence out of bed. I, on the other hand, Jack, am a savior. I give to people what doctors and belief cannot. I give them life.”

“I think I just heard harps play and angels sing. You do realize you kill people every time you save a life.”

“Some deserve to live more than others.”

“The ones who can afford you,” Jack said.

“Those who put a loved one above the costs.”

“Let’s just agree you’re—”

“God?” TQ sounded serious.

Jack laughed so hard she thought she might lose her lunch. “You…are…hysterical,” she said between spurts of laughter.

“You know what else is hilarious, Jack?”

Jack poured a glass of milk to wash down the sandwich. “Let me have a swig of milk before I choke.” She lifted the glass to her mouth.

It was TQ’s turn to laugh. “I hear a talented violinist is rehearsing for this weekend’s performance of Albinoni’s ‘Adagio in G minor.’ And I happen to know you’re not with her, since her every move is being monitored.”

Jack slowly placed her glass back on the counter. “This is between you and me.” She reached in her back pocket for her regular cell phone.

“Oh, and don’t bother warning Ms. Monroe. You see, a certain gentleman is seated in the dark auditorium as we speak. Should she happen to reach for her cell, he is instructed to execute her on the spot.”

“Don’t hurt her.”

“The only one who can harm her is you. It’s your call, Jackie. Had you agreed to come to me of your own will, you would have saved yourself the agony of option number two.”

“Where?”

“Someone will pick you up at the old Bingham’s warehouse in Denver.”

How the hell did she know they were in Colorado? “I can be there in two hours.”

“Oh, and Jack? Please come alone. My men are going to follow Ms. Monroe until you are safe and sound in my company. One wrong move or phone call and I will finish what Rózsa couldn’t.”

Jack’s heart rate accelerated. “That’s ridiculous. Anyone could call her, her work—”

“Then the sooner you get here, the less chance of that happening while she’s being watched,” TQ said calmly.

“Make it an hour and a half, bitch.” Jack hung up.

Chapter Sixteen

The White House

Shield wasn’t sure what had prompted her to make the offer, but Thomas’s reply had made her immediately regret it. She couldn’t figure the president out, and that was frustrating. One moment, Thomas was in control: witty, charming, and respectful of Shield. The next, she was afraid, humorless, distant, and rude. The president clearly had regrets about their flirtatious exchange, which was understandable. It was also probably why she had to point out that Shield was a woman and thereby incapable of teaching her to dance. But did Thomas have to keep her back turned to her all morning or act so appalled at being touched?

Shield knocked on her bedroom door an hour later, dreading the alone time with the president.

Thomas opened the door and stepped out. She’d changed from the casual attire she always wore at breakfast to a tailored gray silk blouse and charcoal skirt. “I’m ready.” She’d taken a few steps down the hallway before Shield noticed her shoes.

“Madam President.”

Thomas stopped. “Yes?” she replied without turning around.

“Your footwear.”

“What about it?” she asked, still with her back turned.

“Not suitable for a dance lesson.”

Thomas looked down at her low-heeled black pumps. “They’re comfortable.”

“But inappropriate. You’ll have to learn to dance in heels, because I presume that’s what you’ll be wearing tomorrow night for the dinner.”

The president turned and walked past Shield back toward her room. “I’ll make the adjustment.” When she reemerged a short time later, she was wearing three-inch lavender heels, and the added lift brought her up roughly to Shield’s height.

Thomas swept past without a glance and headed down the Grand Staircase to the East Room, the largest room in the White House, where the entertainment portion of the state dinner would be held. A small stage had already been set up on one side for the orchestra, and folding chairs were stacked against one wall. The rest of the room was bare; the grand piano had been taken out, and the Aubusson-style carpet had been removed from one end to expose the polished oak parquet floor for dancing. Either the president or Moore had evidently called ahead, because a White House aide was standing by with a portable music player and speakers.

“Good morning, Madam President,” he said as soon as they entered. “I’ve gotten the music list from the orchestra and have a couple of their waltz selections for you to choose from.”

“Thank you,” Thomas replied. “That will be all for now. I’ll call you if we need you.”

As he departed, Shield disconnected her communications device. She went to the president and faced her. “First, let’s go over the hold. You place your left hand on my right shoulder, with your elbow bent.”

Thomas placed her hand on Shield’s upper arm.

“Higher, please.” Shield took her hand and moved it to her shoulder. “Very good. Now…” Shield extended her left arm. “Put your right hand in mine, in a loose grip, and I’ll put my right hand around your waist, like this.”

Thomas stiffened as soon as Shield touched her.

“I know I’m not a man.” Shield couldn’t help herself, remembering the president’s previous comments. “But please try to relax.”

Thomas avoided eye contact when she replied. “I didn’t mean…”