Kim Baldwin - The Gemini Deception

Ryden also didn’t know when or how, but they had closed the distance between them until she could feel Kennedy’s hips and breasts against her own. They moved as one.

“Who are you?” Kennedy suddenly asked.

It took a few seconds for the question to register. “You know who I am.” Ryden’s voice sounded breathless, even to her own ears.

“I mean, aside from the obvious.”

Was this a serious question or a trick one? Kennedy knew very well who Ryden was.

“Who is the woman behind the façade and what does she want?” Kennedy asked.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Would it clear it up if I said, what we did yesterday, what we’re doing now, is highly unprofessional on my behalf and vastly unconventional on yours.”

“I know.”

“What’s going on, Elizabeth?”

“I…” Ryden stopped dancing and let go. She walked to the CD player and turned it off. “I don’t know, but…”

“But?”

“It has to stop.”

Kennedy stared down at her feet. “I know.” She looked disappointed, or maybe embarrassed. Ryden couldn’t tell which, but maybe, like her, Kennedy felt both.

Exasperated, she ran her hand through her hair. “You can’t even begin to imagine what…what…”

“Of course I can,” Kennedy replied quietly. “And I would never say anything.”

A knock on the door interrupted them.

“Come in,” Ryden said.

The aide who’d left them the CD player entered and stopped just inside the door. “Madam President, Advisor Moore asked me to remind you of your appointment with him in thirty minutes.”

“Tell him I’m aware,” Ryden lied, and headed toward him. In reality she’d forgotten about it completely. She was happy she could remember her name at this point.

“Of course,” the aide replied, and moved to the side as Ryden passed him by.

Kennedy followed her to her bedroom and Ryden stopped outside the door. Unable to face Kennedy, she remained with her back turned. “I was going to say, you can’t even begin to imagine what you’re doing to me,” she said before she disappeared into her room.

Chapter Seventeen

Denver, Colorado

Jack had been warned about TQ and the influence she had on higher-ups, but it boggled her mind that the bitch had been able to find out about Cassady—certainly no easy feat. Too afraid to call Cass, the only other option that crossed her mind was Montgomery Pierce. She hated to admit it, but the EOO probably had the kind of power needed to deal with someone like the Broker. Jack reached for her phone a few times during her drive to Denver but couldn’t make herself contact him.

It wasn’t so much pride that stopped her, but fear. She had no control over what Pierce and the rest would do, and she refused to take any chances with the woman she loved. Cass had already been through too much, and Jack was damned if she would let that bitch hurt her.

No, this was Jack’s war. Pierce had warned her that the Broker wouldn’t forget, and from the short discussion with TQ, Jack knew she wasn’t the type of woman to forgive, either. She had fueled this war by killing Dario, and she was going to make sure no one else paid the price.

Jack parked her black 1967 Mustang in front of the warehouse. That way, it was exposed and clear for anyone to see; now was not the time for heroics or taking stupid risks. She knew TQ meant it when she said she’d terminate Cass if she tried anything or wasn’t on time, because it was exactly what Jack would do. She grabbed her Glock from the passenger seat and got out.

The place was massive and long abandoned. The warehouses on either side were, too. TQ had done her homework. There was no point in looking for another entrance. The bitch would have enough eyes and capable manpower to sure as hell have this place completely secured. They could likely take her out at any moment.

The sun was about to set when Jack knocked twice on the metal door, then went inside, Glock exposed to show she meant business but not concealed so as to get herself killed. They’d expect her to be carrying, so there was no point in denying or hiding it.

Jack cautiously entered the dim warehouse. She detected no sound from within or sign of movement, and she couldn’t see clearly where she was going, but she was sure she’d find out soon enough where the bitch wanted her.

She took a few more steps through the dark entryway and reached an open door. The fading daylight through the filthy windows inside allowed her to make out one chair in the center of the otherwise empty room, a pair of handcuffs resting on the seat.

Jack looked around before she picked up the cuffs and sat. She didn’t expect TQ to show up in person. As far as anyone knew, the woman was a ghost. No one in law enforcement and no one Jack knew in the underworld had ever met or seen her, and who knew if that was even her fucking name.

Jack was curious where TQ’s men would take her. She didn’t know what the woman had planned for her, but immediate death clearly wasn’t it. She had mentioned working for her. Jack figured if she got close enough to the Broker to discuss a deal, she’d find a way to either kill or bargain herself out of it. She just hoped the miserable bitch would keep her word and leave Cass alone.

She placed the Glock gingerly on the ground in front of her, kicked it a few feet away, and handcuffed herself to the chair like they expected her to. “Let’s get on with the show.”

Moments later, a small man or woman—Jack couldn’t tell which in the fading light because he / she was wearing black clothes and a black plastic mask—approached from the front. Without saying a word, the stranger stopped before her and lifted one gloved hand to expose a syringe.

“I guess it’s good night, motherfucker,” Jack said.

*

The White House

Next evening, March 3

Ryden stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, unable to believe it was really her staring back in bewilderment. Never had she been this beautiful—the stunning dress and hair, the jewelry, the shoes. She looked like a princess. What would Kennedy think of her tonight, especially in light of her not-so-spontaneous admission?

Ryden knew she would regret saying what she had, but at that moment, the closeness, the feel of Kennedy had overpowered her, and she was helpless to deny or dismiss the attraction. Yes, Kennedy was a woman, but Ryden hadn’t cared and still didn’t.

If Kennedy wanted to, she could get her in serious trouble, but Ryden somehow knew she wouldn’t. For some inexplicable reason, she trusted Kennedy. Or at least she wanted to, just as much as she wanted to kiss her.

She touched her lips; it had been years since she’d used them for that purpose. “What if I forgot how to kiss?” she said to her image. “What if I never knew how?” She shrugged. “What does it matter? It’s not like it’s ever going to happen.”

The knock at the door meant it was time to exit her dream world and enter the nightmare with Ratman at its center. It was time for their meeting.

She opened the door for him and then immediately went and sat at her vanity table.

“Are you adequately prepared for this evening?” Ratman asked as he entered. He stopped in the middle of the room.

Ryden picked up the guest list and scanned it for the hundredth time. Anything to look busy and get him away from her as quickly as possible. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” She’d created her own memory game for matching faces with names and titles.

“Most of these people are new to you, so you need to be absolutely clear on who’s who.”

“Unless someone has recently had a major face job, I can handle it.” Now get your ugly self out of my room.