“Your late husband’s golf club.”
“My who?” Thomas looked confused.
“Mr. Thomas.”
The president blinked several times. “Oh, yeah. Him.”
Shield was certain Moore was involved in the death of Thomas’s husband Jeffrey. But Thomas herself, under the influence of alcohol and unconstrained by lucid emotions and responses, seemed to be showing absolutely no emotion for her late husband. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad situation after all. It seemed a perfect opportunity to get more information from the president about what was going on. “How was your relationship with Mr. Thomas?”
“Just fine.”
“Did you love him?”
“Sure, he was my husband,” she said flippantly.
“And Moore?”
Thomas grimaced like she’d just licked a lemon. “What about him? I sure as hell don’t love him.”
At least she finally admits to disliking that bastard. “Did he and your late husband get along?”
The president shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess.”
Shield wasn’t about to remind Thomas of her previous statement, avowing how much Moore cared for her and her husband. “You must have been pretty scared during the attack.”
“That was something, all right.” Thomas’s voice and demeanor were devoid of any grief or melancholy. Anyone in her position would at least show discomfort at the mere mention of such a dramatic memory.
“What happened in there?”
“I can’t talk about that.” Thomas looked away. “But hey…I get to live.”
“It might help you cope if you share,” Shield said. “You need to talk to someone, Elizabeth. You can’t do it all on your own.”
“I can’t talk to anyone, especially not you.”
“Why not? You can trust me.”
“Funny you say that.” Thomas smiled. “Because I do, more so than anyone else I know. Which is also funny, since I hardly know you.”
“You know me well enough to understand I want to keep you safe. I’d never harm you, Elizabeth.”
“I also know you like to manipulate and humiliate.”
“I…”
“You acted like you wanted to kiss me.”
“I did that to make a point, not to hurt you.”
“Same thing,” the president said quietly. “And you did…hurt me.”
“Elizabeth, did your husband know you…like women?”
“No.”
“And Moore?”
“How could they? I’m not gay.”
“You do realize I’m a woman, right?”
“Of course, but I’m not gay, and I’ve never wanted to kiss a woman before.”
“Do you think it’s a shock reaction to your attack?”
“Who knows what it is?” Thomas raised her hands, exasperated. “All I know is that you made me feel stupid for feeling attractive.”
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention.”
Shield wasn’t getting the answers to the questions she wanted, and Thomas seemed to be sobering up pretty fast.
“Am I not your type?” the president asked.
“You’re a very attractive woman.”
Thomas blushed and probably didn’t even know it. She looked so soft and vulnerable at that moment, her cheeks flushed, that Shield found it hard not to stare. “But?”
“You’re the president, and I’m security.”
“What if I wasn’t?”
“Then I wouldn’t be here,” Shield answered diplomatically.
Thomas looked almost defeated. “Because I would be some plain Jane and not the president.”
Shield didn’t know how to respond to that. Truth was, she would have wanted to kiss Thomas no matter who she was, and it had taken all her restraint to walk away from that beautiful mouth. Having her just out of arm’s reach now, dressed so provocatively, was a true test of her professionalism.
“What’s your story, Kennedy? Why aren’t you capable of wanting someone who’s not all that powerful…like a plain florist, for example? Why does it take someone like a friggin’ president to get your rocks off?”
A florist? Where did that come from? “I never said that.”
“Oh, please. I bet you’re just as demanding for quality in your women as you are for your wines.” Thomas got up. “A simple house brand can be pretty damn good, too.”
Shield stood as well. “That’s very true.”
“Then maybe you should get off that high horse of yours and try it.”
“You don’t know me well enough to assume you know anything about me.” Shield was getting irritated with Thomas’s accusations.
“Then why don’t you tell me what it is about powerful women that does it for you?”
“That depends on your definition.” Shield struggled to keep her voice low. “If by power you mean I need a president or whoever with a title to get turned on, then you’re very mistaken.”
“What’s your definition?” Thomas asked.
“I like women who know what they want and fight for it. I like survivors—someone who’s not afraid of falling because they know they can get back up.”
The president stood a foot away, her head tilted to the side, staring at her. “What else?”
“Someone I can count on to stick with me when I fail, show me they love me, want me, and not just wait by the sidelines for me to comfort them for my failures because for some obscene reason their pain is way more important than mine.” Shield exhaled a long breath. “In other words, I don’t want powerful women. I want one strong one.” She raised her hands. “Okay? Satisfied?”
Without warning, Thomas closed the distance between them and placed her hands on Shield’s shoulders. On her tiptoes, she gave Shield a soft, almost shy kiss on the lips, then turned around and walked to the adjoining door.
Shield, in disbelief, remained rooted where she was.
“I’m not powerful,” Thomas said without turning around. “But you have no idea just how strong I am or how much I have to fight to survive.” Then she was gone.
Shield didn’t realize she’d licked her lips until the aftertaste hit her senses—wine, with a hint of Thomas’s own sweet flavor.
The situation between them was getting more absurd by the day.
How could Thomas feel such distress concerning Shield’s opinion of her and show absolutely zero sentiment about her husband’s death or the attack?
Shield had witnessed plenty of people in post-death and danger shock and denial, but no matter how strong they acted, she could always see the truth in their eyes. That was where grief could not be hidden or denied. Thomas, however, was so far removed from any emotion she hadn’t even asked why Shield had gone to her husband’s golf club. Come to think of it, Thomas had never shown any distress in regard to anyone, other than Moore.
Then again, she also didn’t seem emotionally inept. On the contrary, the president was a passionate woman, capable of deep sadness. Shield couldn’t remember a moment when Thomas hadn’t had to force a smile, except for the times they were alone.
A dirty political game was going on, but one of the players didn’t fit the profile.
Chapter Twenty-three
Houston, Texas
Jack sat in a comfortable leather armchair that faced away from the massive windows dominating one wall of the spacious apartment. It wasn’t like she could have admired the view, anyway. Retractable, locking window screens blocked any possibility she might be able to recognize where she was, but the amenities of her surroundings were a world away from those of her last captive environment.
The owner had an impressive bankroll and an appreciation for unparalleled excellence in all things. The floor looked like it was Italian marble, the rugs priceless Arabian antiquities, the furniture handcrafted of leather and expensive woods.
The most impressive features were the art and artifacts all around, which looked like originals as far as she could tell. Oil paintings in elaborate frames adorned the walls, and custom glass display cases held a variety of masks, tapestries, coins, and other ancient relics. More glass cases, custom designed with their own ornate stands, had been built to display the heavier and larger objects, which included sculptures, a full suit of armor, and what looked like pieces of an ancient Greek column and Egyptian obelisk.