by Kim Baldwin
Table of Contents
Synopsis
By the Authors
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Epilogue
About the Authors
What Reviewers Say About the Elite Operatives Series
Books Available From Bold Strokes Books
Synopsis
Agent Harper “Shield” Kennedy’s specialty within the Elite Operatives Organization is security, although she’s long lost any gratification from babysitting most VIPs. However, her new assignment—to safeguard the U.S. president—will prove to be the biggest challenge of her career. Shield’s mission to protect the first female chief executive is complicated by threats to her own life when she begins to question the president’s orders.
Loner Ryden Wagner is content with her life as a florist until she becomes a pawn in a political deception involving the highest office in the land. Trapped in a dangerous game where one false move could cost Ryden her life, she has to rely solely on the president’s new bodyguard.
As an attraction between the two women grows, so does the urgency for answers, but will the truth bring them together or tear them apart?
Sixth in the romantic intrigue series: Elite Operatives.
The Gemini Deception
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The Gemini Deception
© 2013 By Kim Baldwin and Xenia Alexiou. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-906-0
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: April 2013
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Shelley Thrasher
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
By the Authors
The Elite Operatives Series
Lethal Affairs
Thief of Always
Missing Lynx
Dying to Live
Demons are Forever
The Gemini Deception
By Kim Baldwin
Hunter’s Pursuit
Force of Nature
Whitewater Rendezvous
Flight Risk
Focus of Desire
Breaking the Ice
High Impact
Acknowledgments
The authors wish to thank all the talented women at Bold Strokes Books for making this book possible. Radclyffe, for her vision, faith in us, and example. Editor Shelley Thrasher, your insightful editing of this book is deeply appreciated. Jennifer Knight, for invaluable insights into how to craft a series. Graphic artist Sheri for another amazing cover. Connie Ward, BSB publicist and first-reader extraordinaire, and all of the other support staff who work behind the scenes to make each BSB book an exceptional read.
We’d also like to thank our dear friend and first-reader Jenny Harmon, for your invaluable feedback and insights. And finally, to the readers who encourage us by buying our books, showing up for personal appearances, and for taking the time to e-mail us. Thank you so much.
My dear friend Xenia, working with you on the Elite Operatives Series has been one of the most fun and rewarding endeavors I’ve ever undertaken, and I’ll long cherish the countless happy memories of writing, laughing, reading, and signing together. Here’s hoping we do many more projects together once book seven is finished.
For Marty, my family for more than forty years. Your enduring support has been a critical factor in any success I enjoy.
Mom and Dad, I miss you both so much, and know you’re watching out for me. And for my brother Tom, for always saying yes when I need a ride to the airport.
I also have to thank a wonderful bunch of friends who provide unwavering support for all my endeavors. Claudia and Esther, Pattie, Linda, Kat, Felicity. You are family, and near or far, I hold you always close to my heart.
Kim Baldwin 2013
My eternal gratitude and respect to my invaluable friend Kim. Thank you for pointing me in this direction and for being there every step of the way. I am always there for you, no matter what. With only one book left in the series, I can sincerely say it’s been an honor, a privilege, and a hell of a fun ride. Can’t wait for our next project!
Mom, Dad, and Sis. You are my biggest support and comfort. Thank you for everything.
May, you have made my world a richer place to write in and about.
Claudia, thank you for doing all that you do for me in Holland so that I can live my dream in Greece. You’re the world’s best “wingman.”
And as always a very big thank you to my wonderfully tolerant friends. Esther, Nicki, Dennis, and Steven, you were there from the beginning to constantly support and encourage me, and I will always be grateful. Last but never least, a big bow of appreciation to all the readers who enjoy the stories and make writing one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done. YOU ALL ROCK.
Xenia Alexiou 2013
To my nephews Alexi and Dimitri
May you always listen to your heart, follow your dreams, and chase your passions.
I love you guys,
Xenia
You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you don’t trust enough.
—Frank Crane
Prologue
Durham, North Carolina
Late January
When Ryden Wagner woke from the final surgery, even the massive doses of painkillers pouring through her IV couldn’t completely eradicate the pain in her face. Still groggy, she skimmed her fingers over the bandages that covered her straightened nose and higher, new cheekbones. The swelling was so bad she had to view the sterile room through half-open eyes, but she could see she was alon
e.
She’d been in the private clinic for more than a month and during that time had undergone a series of procedures to radically change her appearance; this latest was the final alteration. A chin implant came first, then dental work when that was healed, followed by Lasik eye surgery to allow her to finally shed her thick, black-framed glasses. Yesterday, a stylist had come in and cut several inches off her hair. The man had dyed it as well, from light mousy brown to a darker brunette, but Ryden only knew that from the snippets of hair that fell into her lap. They still refused to let her anywhere near a mirror.
Horrific circumstances had gotten her here, and her unremarkable but satisfying life was about to radically change.
She would miss her work at The Bloom Room, the flower and candle shop where she worked in suburban Philadelphia. Not the day-to-day mundane tasks of cutting and trimming endless roses and arranging bouquets, nor the chatty interactions with customers she had to endure when the shop’s owner was occupied, for she was by nature a loner who loathed small talk. Ryden would miss seeing people’s reactions to the ornate candles that were the outlet for her creative side. At home, she spent most of her time dipping and sculpting the unique creations. Most who bought them at the shop or online declared them far too beautiful to ever touch a match to, and that response never failed to warm her.
The nurse who’d been tending to her came in, white shoes squeaking loudly on the faded linoleum, and smiled when she saw her awake. “How are you feeling?” She checked the nearly flaccid bag hanging from the IV stand.
“Sore,” Ryden replied, “and thirsty as hell. Can I have some water?”
The nurse gave her some ice chips, and as she sucked on them gratefully, she once again explored the unfamiliar landscape of her mouth with her tongue. Porcelain veneers now covered most of her teeth, obliterating the big chip in front that had been with her since the orphanage, when a bigger kid had punched her.
The lawyer who’d brought her here had explained very little of what she was in for next, only that she would undergo extensive training after the operations to prepare her to impersonate someone for a few weeks, perhaps months. Then the threat of prison would be behind her, and she could resume her life.
Three days later, the nurse and doctor came in for the long-anticipated unveiling. She would finally be allowed to see her new self. An unfamiliar woman several years older than Ryden accompanied them. The stranger’s makeup and hair, pulled back in a severe bun, were flawless, and her clothes and jewelry shrieked money. When she introduced herself, her hazel eyes held no hint of warmth.
“I’m Tonya.” The woman extended a well-manicured hand in Ryden’s direction. “I’ll be your tutor during your recovery.”
“Ryden. How’s it going?” She returned the weak handshake before reaching for the remote to the TV on the opposite wall. She’d been watching the inauguration of Elizabeth Thomas, the first female president. A liberal Democrat from Maine, Thomas had served in the U.S. Senate for ten years before her narrow win in the elections nearly three months earlier. Though Ryden muted the sound, she kept the set on, intending to return to the broadcast once her visitors departed.
The doctor reached for a pair of surgical scissors on the tray beside the bed and snipped the sterile gauze wrapped around her head. Then he carefully peeled away the bandages beneath. “You’re a fast healer,” he told Ryden, leaning back with a satisfied expression. “The rest of the bruising will be gone in a few days.” Turning in Tonya’s direction, he added, “Some of my best work. The scars will be virtually undetectable.” He smoothed his thumb lightly over the twin worry lines in Ryden’s forehead, above her nose. “We can get rid of these with a little Botox.”
“Can I see?” Ryden asked impatiently. The doctor glanced at Tonya, who responded to the query with a slight nod, never taking her eyes off Ryden. Her expression gave nothing away of what she thought of the doctor’s handiwork.
The nurse departed, and Ryden returned her gaze to the television while waiting for her to return. The new president was just taking the oath of office. Though Ryden had no real interest in politics, she had voted for Thomas and was glad to see a woman finally take control of the Oval Office.
When the nurse returned with a small hand mirror, Tonya intercepted it and waited for the nurse and doctor to leave before she handed it over.
Ryden cautiously lifted the mirror to her face and gasped aloud. She looked back to the TV, then the mirror—back and forth another two or three times before she finally was able to speak. “Oh, my God.” The realization of who she’d been manufactured to double was chilling. What had she gotten herself into?
Ryden snapped out of the trance when the TV clicked off but was unable to tear her gaze from the bruised but stunning stranger in the mirror. “I look just like—”
“The president,” Tonya said. “And very convincingly, might I add. The eyes are still wrong—you’ll need to wear brown contacts—but otherwise, you’re perfect.”
“I was never told—”
“Security reasons. We couldn’t risk you backing out or talking. But from here on, you belong to us. To the government.”
“What happens when my commitment to you is over? I mean, I’ll still look like her,” Ryden said.
“When that time comes, we will make new alterations.”
“To my face…again.”
Tonya nodded.
“Damn,” Ryden muttered. “The president’s double.”
“Lesson number one: no more profanity,” Tonya said. “And as far as the world is concerned, you are the president.”
Chapter One
Philadelphia
Five weeks earlier, December 16
Ryden set the half dozen matching bridesmaid bouquets she’d been working on into the large glass-walled cooler and stepped back to admire her handiwork. The compact arrays of tiny pink tea roses, baby’s breath, and delicate greenery weren’t what she would have chosen, not that any weddings were in her future, but she knew the bride-to-be would be delighted.
“What do you think, Shadow? Meet with your approval?” she asked the ebony shop cat as he leapt onto the counter and purred to be petted. The name was apropos. Since she’d rescued him from the city animal shelter, the stray rarely left her side, except to chase down the occasional moth or bug that caught his eye.
Movement out of the corner of her eye made her glance toward the shop window. Tim Lauden was waving at her, and she had to force herself to keep from rolling her eyes. He was later than usual; normally he stopped in around lunchtime and it was now just an hour before closing. Magda Pagoni, the owner of the shop, was unpacking a fresh shipment of poinsettias in the back.
“Got caught up at the office,” Tim said when he walked in. “Hope all the good stuff isn’t gone.”
“It’s all good stuff,” Ryden replied. “What varies is taste.”
“Of course.” Tim leaned over the counter, ostensibly to study what was left of the loose flowers in the bottom tier of the cooler, and Ryden took a step back. He was a friendly guy and she even tolerated the occasional chat with him, but his insistence at flirting with her was at times overwhelming, and so was his tendency to get too close to her. She had little patience for any invasion of her personal space.
He’d come into the shop two months ago for the first time to buy flowers for his mother, who was hospitalized for minor surgery. Though the woman had long since recovered, Tim continued to stop by at least once a week and had become a valued customer. He never ordered a ready-made bouquet, instead choosing something seasonal in stock—something that would take Ryden time to put together.
She had begun to wonder what he did with the flowers once he left the shop, since his visits were clearly now just an excuse to see her. Tim was in his mid-forties, with a perpetual five-o’clock shadow, receding hairline, and a beer belly that protruded over his belt. From their chats, she’d gleaned that he spent most of his time watching television, usually war documentaries on the Histo
ry Channel. Ryden had no illusions about her own attractiveness; she considered herself average at best. But if Tim was the best she could do, then no wonder she’d rather be alone.
Magda, who’d caught on to Tim’s intentions immediately, tried to play matchmaker by making herself scarce during his visits. Although Ryden had made it clear that she wasn’t interested in him or in anyone else, for that matter, Magda’s winks and meaningful smiles never ceased. Her intentions were as well meaning as all of her other attempts to get closer to Ryden, but as she did with everyone else in her life, Ryden kept her employer at arm’s length. She had no close friends, only colleagues and acquaintances.
“The roses look beautiful today,” Tim said. He was always very courteous and the perfect gentleman, but Ryden despised idle conversation, and most of their interactions lately had consisted of inane exchanges about the weather or flowers. Having been raised in foster homes where no one really cared for her opinion, or thought it silly if not meaningless, she had become accustomed to keeping her thoughts, dreams, and talents to herself. Now, as an adult, not only didn’t she feel the need to share, but she viewed everyone who showed any interest in her as an intruder who could potentially ridicule or reject who or how she was.
