The Gemini Deception (16 page)

She’d eaten dinner then and was headed to her bedroom to get her cell for another call to Pierce, when she spotted the president leaving the private dining room.

“Does this mean you’re on duty again?” Thomas asked her.

Shield was used to the cold, formal attitude of her subjects and even found it interesting when it came to attractive women, but Thomas had pushed all the wrong buttons when she’d accused her of playing on the job. Shield knew she had to be a professional and swallow her pride when it came to difficult and downright rude individuals, but nothing vexed her more than unfairness. That, combined with the fact that the EOO hadn’t been able to offer any news yet in response to her inquiry, had put her in a less than pleasant mood. “Yes, it does, Madam President.”

“Good, because I would like a word with you.”

“Of course, Madam President.” Shield looked at the other agent and nodded. Jason headed toward the stairway while she started down the hall toward the president.

Thomas met her halfway and gestured toward the room Shield had just come out of. “I don’t see why we can’t talk in there. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” Shield let the president go first into the Yellow Oval Room and shut the door behind them.

Thomas scanned the room and her gaze fell on Shield’s meal tray. “I didn’t know you were allowed to take your dinner in here.”

“The perks of not being your average Secret Service.”

Thomas approached the small table by the open balcony doors where Shield had sat and looked down at the bottle of wine. “They let you drink on duty?”

“You may have noticed I haven’t opened the bottle.”

“Then why is it here?”

“Because I felt the need to look at it since I can’t be at home,” Shield explained.

“I don’t understand. You want to look at the bottle?”

“It reminds me of home and the job I love. I make my own wine.”

“As in moonshine?”

“As in, I have my own company. A vineyard back home in Tuscany. It’s quite a successful label.”

Thomas picked up the bottle. “Il Grigio Angelo,” she read. “They serve this here, although I haven’t tried it yet.” She sounded surprised.

“Here. In Europe. In every good restaurant.”

“So, if you live in Tuscany, how did you end up in Washington?” Was Thomas going to get to the point of her request to see her, or were they going to talk about Shield’s bio?

“The organization I work for—”

“The EOO.”

“Yes, has us stationed all over the world. I usually baby…
guard
,” Shield corrected herself, “European political dignitaries, and occasionally American ones. It depends on where I’m needed.”

“Are you as good as they say?” the president asked.

“I must be, or I wouldn’t be here.”

“How does the wine fit into your life?”

“It’s what I do when I’m not on a job.”

Thomas sat down at the table, on the armchair opposite the one Shield had been in. “How did you decide to start a vineyard?” She sounded sincerely interested.

Shield sat down, too. “I started out by helping the owner—a friend. Eventually, I inherited the vineyard, improved the wine, and marketed it worldwide.”

“I doubt you need this job, then.”

“I don’t. I do it because part of me
wants
to—even though I hate being taken away from my home—and part of me
has
to.”

“Has to?”

“It’s a long story, but let’s just say I’m contracted to work for my employer indefinitely. In other words, until I’m no longer fit for my work.”

“It must be difficult to leave your loved ones.”

“Not really. I don’t have any.”

“I don’t just mean a girlfriend,” Thomas said.

“Why would you assume I had a girlfriend?”

“I…I simply meant I saw the way the waitress was looking at you.”

Shield was glad for the opening. “About that. I never play on the job, and I have a strong disliking for being accused of something I didn’t do.”

“My apologies,” Thomas said. “I never meant to offend you. I was tired and looking for someone to blame. I should never have reacted the way I did. It was uncalled for and unprofessional.”

“I won’t argue that.”

“It’s why I wanted to see you. I wanted to say I was sorry.” The president was looking at her with an expression of sincere regret, a response Shield found uncharacteristic in light of her previous bodyguard’s experience, but welcome nonetheless. Elizabeth Thomas continued to confound and surprise her.

“I appreciate that.”

“I’m glad.” Thomas smiled. “But what I meant earlier is that I assumed you prefer the same sex.”

“How presumptuous. Is it because of my job?”

“I don’t have to be a homosexual to have a gaydar. Am I wrong?”

Shield snickered at Thomas’s use of the word
gaydar
and the president smiled. “No, you’re not wrong. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Not at all. What you do in your spare time is none of my business.”

“I’m glad,” Shield repeated, and smiled, too.

“How about your family?” the president asked next. “Don’t you miss them?”

“I don’t have one. I was adopted by the organization when I was six.” Shield rarely volunteered such information, but with Thomas, it didn’t matter. The president certainly had a briefing file somewhere about the EOO, if she cared to read it.

Thomas looked at her intently, then averted her gaze. “That must have been rough.”

“I guess…at times, anyway. I’ve never spent too much time dwelling on what could or should have been.”

“You’ve never wondered what it would have been like to have a family?”

“Sure, but I can’t say I’ve ever missed it,” Shield replied. “It’s hard to long for something you’ve never experienced.”

Thomas stared out the window toward the Washington Monument in the distance for a long while, seemingly lost in thought. In Shield’s experience, people often felt sorry for you when you told them you were adopted, but Thomas instead looked hurt. “So, I assume you’ve never felt the need to look for them,” the president finally said.

“Never. All I know is I was born and adopted in Melbourne, Australia.”

The president raised an eyebrow. “An Aussie?”

“In blood, yes, but an Italian at heart.”

“How was it growing up in an organization?”

“It’s funny how that varies from kid to kid. Some love it, make friends and enjoy the constant playing and schooling and find it a home, and others…don’t.”

“And how about you?”

“I was one of those who didn’t. I’ve never liked noise, and boy, there was a lot of that.”

“Yes.” Thomas sounded wistful. “I mean, kids seem to love screaming. My sister’s kids do, anyway.”

“Not me, and I was never very social. Spent a lot time on my own and out of other people’s way. Kids welcomed me when I sought them out, but they never went out of their way to track me down. I think they found me a bit odd. Most adopted kids crave acceptance. I just looked forward to getting out and on with my life. I wanted to find my place in the world, not a family.”

“Did you?”

“I did,” Shield replied. “When I found Italy.”

Thomas sighed. “It must be wonderful to know where you belong.”

“You sound like you don’t, when you appear to have everything.”

“Appear being the key word.”

“It’s definitely not easy being you.”

Thomas shook her head almost imperceptibly and let out a small laugh devoid of humor. “You have no idea.”

“I don’t even want to imagine having to live your life.”

“This life, the one before. Trust me, you don’t want to imagine either.”

Rich political families could definitely come with drawbacks. Cold, ambitious parents more interested in grooming successors than in loving their child. But no one could have forced Thomas to become president. You needed to want and fight for that position wholeheartedly in order to obtain it, especially if you were the first female to hold the highest office in the world. But she couldn’t argue that it came with a lot of sacrifices and potential dirty work. “I guess no one is ever really prepared for what’s expected in your position, no matter how much they groom you for it.”

The president looked away. “You can say that again. Sometimes I wish I had made different choices, but…” Thomas massaged her temples. “Well, what choice did I really have?”

“What is it you want?” Shield asked.

“I should say I want my life back, but I don’t. I…I just want to live. For once, I want to be free of everything, including myself…who I was before all this.”

Shield didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. If she hated anything, it was superficial sentiments and conventional comfort speeches. She wasn’t about to tell Thomas her life wasn’t so bad, because it clearly was, and who was Shield to tell her otherwise? She also wasn’t about to tell Thomas things could get better because Shield couldn’t know that, either. If she was right and the president had gotten to the point of having to fake an attack and get five people killed in the process, chances were things could only get a lot worse.

Judging from her panic attacks and almost tangible fear, Thomas had clearly been persuaded to do something she didn’t want. Her statements tonight seemed to confirm that supposition. Shield was almost positive the president had to be
convinced
to go along with whatever was happening, because one sentiment was missing from her demeanor: guilt. But who could have so much power over the president of the United States?

They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Shield picked up the bottle of Il Grigio Angelo. “Would you do me the honor of trying my wine?” she asked Thomas. “Since I’m sure you’re an excellent critic, your opinion is important to me.”

“I don’t know that I’m an expert and by no means a connoisseur.”

Shield found it hard to believe that the president hadn’t had her share of good wine, coming from a prominent family and considering all the formal dinners she’d no doubt attended as a senator. She was probably just downplaying her privileged background and being careful not to give the impression of a chief executive who enjoyed alcohol. “But you enjoy a glass now and then?”

“Very much.”

“Will you try some?”

“I’d love to.”

Shield uncorked the bottle and poured for the president.

“How about you?” Thomas asked.

“I’m on duty.”

“I won’t tell, and I’m sure just one won’t compromise your ability to protect me.”

Shield smiled. “It won’t. But aside from that, we only have one wineglass and I’d rather not ask for another. It would draw attention, and I don’t want that.”

“Very well.” Thomas lifted the goblet. “Cheers, then.” She took a sip.

Odd
, Shield thought. The president, because of her position, had to have been trained in the basics of wine. Yet Thomas had skipped swirling, sniffing, and allowing the burgundy liquid to permeate her palate before she swallowed. Maybe wine wasn’t her thing, after all. Shield was disappointed. She didn’t know why, but she wanted Thomas to like it. “What do you think?”

“It’s heavenly.” Thomas leaned back in the armchair with the goblet. “Truly delicious.”

“Do you generally enjoy wine?”

“I know this will sound very wrong, but I really don’t know much about it.”

Shield laughed. “I can tell.”

Thomas looked chagrined. “Uh-oh. That bad, huh?”

“May I?” Shield looked at the glass.

Thomas handed it over and Shield held it up to the setting sun. “This is a merlot.”

“Okay.”

“Can you describe the color?”

“Red.”

“Red wine is produced from grapes that are not only red, but purple and blue as well. The many different varietals of red wine give it names like dark red, light red, almost black, maroon, deep violet, and burgundy. If you look at it again, how would you describe it?”

Thomas looked from her to the wine. She stared at it for a while and pursed her lips. “Maroon, almost black.”

“Very good.” Shield lifted the wineglass and swirled it. “Aerating the wine like this introduces more air molecules into it, which can capture the aroma molecules and carry them up to the nose. More dominant aromatics that arise after swirling can overwhelm some subtle ones, so most professional tasters will sniff the wine briefly first before swirling. The closer the nose is to the wine, even right inside the glass, the greater the chances of capturing aromatics. A series of short, quick sniffs versus one long inhale will also maximize the likelihood of detecting aromatics. The human nose starts to fatigue after around six seconds, and so a pause may be necessary between sniffs.” She stopped swirling and placed the goblet under Thomas’s nose.

The president took successive brief sniffs.

Fast learner
, Shield thought. “What do you smell?”

“Fruit, but not sweet. Earth, and…smoke?”

“Excellent. Inferior merlots can smell like vinegar.”

“This definitely doesn’t smell like vinegar.”

“I know.” Shield didn’t want to sound arrogant, but she prided herself on the quality of her wine.

“How would you describe it?” Thomas asked.

“A full-bodied and complex ruby, with a soft sweetness and velvety aftertaste. Hints of wild cherry and blackberry, finessed with a slight cocoa tone and undercurrents reminiscent of the rich, smoky soil of Tuscany.”

Thomas sighed. “That’s beautiful. So…romantic.”

“And now, finally, is the time to taste.”

Thomas lifted the glass to her mouth, never taking her eyes off Shield’s, as if waiting for her permission.

“Before you…” Shield stopped.

“Yes?”

They were staring at each other and Shield couldn’t look away. The president looked more relaxed at that moment than Shield had ever seen her—softer, somehow, and more…
real
, not the figurehead politician, but a warm and inviting woman. Again, Shield was struck by how beautiful Thomas was when she was stripped of her perfect media-friendly hairdo and flawless makeup. She’d evidently showered after her workday before changing into the comfortable-looking long-sleeved blue T-shirt and designer sweatpants she now wore; her fresh-scrubbed face and slightly flyaway, short brown hair gave her an enticing approachability. But the vulnerability in Elizabeth Thomas’s dark eyes really drew her in and made her forget momentarily what she’d been about to say.