Kim Baldwin - The Gemini Deception

“Don’t be stupid. She took me by surprise.”

TQ arched one eyebrow. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”

“Hey, I’m not superhuman.” Jack looked down at the small puddle of blood at her feet.

“You’re also not an amateur. I’m sure you didn’t get your rep by making unintelligent moves.” TQ paced the room. “You killed a man you knew nothing about—an innocent individual who could have been a fed or cop—in front of me, without so much as flinching. You did it while practically blind and then went back for one more shot.” She crossed her arms.” You want me to believe some woman managed to take your weapon, punch you, steal the keys, and shoot you, all in the process of escaping?”

“That’s the gist of it.” Jack shrugged. She had to play it down. Any show of fear or diffidence would trigger TQ’s thinly veiled patience and anger at tonight’s massive failure. “My apologies.”

“I’ll get them next time,” Bill said.

“Next time.” TQ mumbled, more to herself than either of them. “Of course, because this was some silly, inconsequential job that can be done any old time.” She removed invisible lint from her stiff and white-as-herself shirt.

Jack knew the signs. TQ was about to throw a shit fit. The two of them were about to get very dirty.

“Yeah, no biggie,” Bill said. Was he stupid, or did he have a death wish? Didn’t he recognize sarcasm and lethal composure?

Without taking her eyes off her shirt, TQ sighed. “Remove him from my life.”

One of the two guys who’d brought them here—a short, barrel-chested guy who’d been watching the goings-on from a position near the door—drew a pistol and shot the dumbass in the chest. Bill fell to his knees and then slumped forward and lay still.

The short goon then trained his gun on Jack and waited.

“What to do, what to do.” TQ started to pace again.

Jack tried to remain calm, but TQ was unpredictable. These could be her last moments. The bitch had just tossed the coin of Jack’s life in the air, and all she could do was wait for the deciding heads or tails.

Yet it wasn’t her own existence she cared about. They said that your life passes before your eyes before you die, but all Jack could see was Cass’s future—one where TQ killed Cass as well.

“Look.” Jack shifted her weight and cringed as pain shot up her leg. “I know I screwed up, but I’m good at what I do. You can’t judge me based on one failure.” She stuffed her hands in her jeans. “I need my own team to perform. Let me put one together next time, a few people I can count on. Not clowns like him.” She looked down at the lifeless body next to her. “The guy couldn’t even manage to keep the car keys in his pocket.”

“Why didn’t you pull the trigger, Jack?”

“I have anger-management issues,” she replied. “The contractor insulted and threatened me with her organization.”

“Since when do you care about contractors?”

“Since they almost killed me during a job.”

“Why is it you’re not concerned about me executing you instead?” TQ asked.

“I know—”

“Do you think I need you enough to overlook your failures, Jack?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“I know you want to keep me alive for as long as it takes to get over yourself, which could be never.”

“Myself?” TQ sounded intrigued. “How interesting. Do explain.”

“You didn’t come after me because I killed your brother. I doubt you care enough about anyone to seek revenge on their behalf.” She had to remind TQ why she’d wanted Jack in the first place; she had to put TQ’s anger back into perspective if she wanted to keep Cass alive. “I’m just here because you can’t cope with someone else deciding destiny or calling the shots. I put a glitch in your plans, in your perfectly choreographed life, when I killed your brother and rubbed it in your face. If anyone should have decided about his miserable life and reveled in the choice of his death, it should have been you.”

TQ clapped slowly. “Brava. Not bad for a lowlife assassin.”

“You’re not that complicated. Pretty transparent, actually.”

TQ laughed. “Am I, now?”

“Just another statistic, really.”

“How precious. Kitchen psychology.” She approached Jack.

“Probably a case of a messed-up childhood,” Jack replied. “Parents didn’t love you, think you were good enough. For some reason, gave more love or saw more potential in your paraplegic brother. Maybe they never wanted a daughter in the first place and treated you like an afterthought. But you proved them wrong. You got even by becoming powerful and rich. You showed them who really calls the shots when it comes to rejection and pain—”

“Shut up.” TQ shouted, completely out of character.

“How am I doing so far?”

“I said, shut up,” TQ repeated, quietly this time.

“The truth’s a remorseless bitch, isn’t she?”

“Undoubtedly.” TQ traced the scar on Jack’s cheek with her index finger. “Yet nothing, compared to me.” She went to the door but turned back, her hand on the knob. “I can end your life with the wave of my hand.”

“But you won’t.”

TQ smiled. “My game, my terms, remember? You get to live for as long as I deem necessary. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take care of your failure.”

She addressed the short goon standing there and his friend Hulk on the opposite corner. “You two…I want you to demonstrate just how remorseless I am, until I say otherwise.”

Chapter Thirty-two

Burke, Virginia

Shield drove slowly past the safe house. The cracker-box home was dark, and the overgrown yard, if it could even be called a yard, told her it hadn’t been used in a while.

The isolated safe house was near the northern edge of Lake Accotink Park, an enormous wooded area big enough to get lost in. She skirted the edge of the park for nearly three miles before she began looking seriously for a good dump site.

She’d hoped to hide the van among the trees, but every possible avenue she explored had problems or carried too much risk of immediate discovery. She spotted the solution in an enormous car dealership coming up on the right. Shield followed the signs to the service department around back and parked in a lot filled with older vehicles waiting to be repaired or picked up by their owners. “Let’s go,” she told Wagner as she slid the keys under the front mat. “Follow me closely, keep quiet, and don’t draw attention to yourself.”

After a two-block jog they were inside the tree line at the edge of the park. They’d made it there unobserved, fortunately, because the bloodstain on Wagner’s light-blue hoodie was getting too large to ignore. Since it was still much too early for park visitors, Shield kept to the main path that led north through the woods, confident they wouldn’t be seen. Still, she remained quiet, alert to any noise or sign of movement ahead or behind them. Though it was black as pitch out, they could move quickly because the pathway was wide and had been paved for bicycles. Wagner did a good job of keeping up, though she was breathing heavily.

The one-story safe house, set a good distance from any neighboring homes, was sadly neglected, with peeling paint, an iffy roof, and a driveway of cracked concrete and tall weeds. All the curtains were drawn, and every window was opaque with filth. From the look of it, it might have been years since anyone had last used the residence for any significant amount of time.

Shield hoped they’d at least find a working phone.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Wagner bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. The sleeve where she’d been shot was saturated with blood.