Deep Cover

CHAPTER 9

KRIS MET SHELBY'S gaze. She would have had to be blind to have missed the surprise in those gorgeous green eyes when the analyst overheard her conversation with Earl. At that instant she'd realized that Shelby had never really believed that she was Blue. It's better this way. She'll be afraid of me and back off.

Shelby was at a loss for words. Kris seemed more distant than ever. She wracked her brain for anything that might dispel the tension permeating the apartment, and then caught a glimpse of the underside of Kris' arm. "You're still bleeding." She headed for the kitchen, calling back over her shoulder, "I'll get some peroxide to clean that up."

Kris stared at Shelby's retreating figure, confused. She hadn't sensed the fear she'd expected to see. Doesn't she get it? She should be afraid - very afraid. Why isn't she? Irritably, she growled, "Surprised?"

Shelby sighed. Stopping, she turned to face the operative. "Surprised about what, Kris? That you bleed, just like I do? Or that you are Blue?"

Narrowing her eyes as she approached Shelby, Blue snorted, then drawled sardonically, "Both. I'm sure you've heard the rumors."

Nodding, Shelby ignored the derisive expression and met Blue's intense gaze. "Yes, I have. So, all of a sudden I'm supposed to think you're some invincible, cold-blooded machine? You're still human, Kris. You have feelings no matter how deeply you bury them, and you can get hurt, too, even though you're loath to admit it; and yes, you bleed, just like I do. So, just what am I supposed to be so surprised about?"

Blue snapped. "Don't you get it? I am NOT like you. You should be afraid of me. Think about who I am."

Shelby stared at the intimidating woman glaring down at her. Kris did scare her when she was like this, but it was a fear of what the operative was capable of, not fear for her own safety. Shelby spoke with quiet certainty. "You wouldn't hurt me."

Kris' eyes widened in amazement and she looked away, biting off a scathing retort. The operative had faced down many powerful foes, yet this woman refused to be intimidated; she struggled to understand that. She wanted to scream in frustration. This was totally outside her realm of experience.

Blue was an expert at manipulation and could usually cajole the most unlikely people into doing whatever she wanted them to. As for those that didn't – well, there were other ways to get them to comply with her wishes. But the woman standing in front of her wasn't like those countless other dupes. She didn't want to try to manipulate Shelby and wasn't sure she could, anyway. Her interest in the analyst had long since totally surpassed anything she could rationalize. Why is she different? And why am I letting her get to me? Kris knew part of the answer. Because she cares.

Kris became angry. Angry because Shelby cared, and angry because she was glad that Shelby cared, and angry because she couldn't let Shelby know that she cared.

Shelby watched the naked emotions play across the usually unrevealing face as the operative's eyes turned distant and troubled. She wanted to say something, anything, to stop Kris from looking so unhappy and angry, but was leery of interrupting her thoughts, knowing she had very probably pushed her too far already. She turned around, reaching into the cupboard for the bottle of peroxide.

"How's your arm?"

Surprised, she plucked the bottle from the shelf and turned around. "It's a little sore."

"Mind if I check it out?"

"Uh, sure." Shelby held out her left arm and the tall woman grasped it, gently probing the bruised area around the analyst's wrist with deft, sure fingers.

Kris looked up. "I wanted to make sure we didn't need to get it x-rayed. It feels okay, but it's going to be sore for a few days. You were limping?"

"I landed on my hip." Shelby smiled wanly. "I have more padding there." She handed Kris the peroxide. "Need some help?"

Kris shook her head. "Why don't you go ahead and shower? Then I'll take mine and clean this up."

The operative watched Shelby slowly make her way down the hall, before returning to the door to retrieve the forgotten bag of lunchmeat one of Earl's men had recovered from the parking lot and delivered. She put the perishables in the refrigerator, laid the partly squashed loaf of bread on the counter, and walked into the living room.

Shelby returned to the kitchen a short time later, smiling when she saw the bread. It would make some interesting looking sandwiches. She saw Kris looking out the balcony door. "Your turn."

She opened the refrigerator, retrieving the braunschweiger, sliced turkey, spicy mustard, and a small jar of Miracle Whip. Taking out an onion, she set it on the counter with the rest of the food and reached into the cupboard for a couple of saucers before remembering she had used the last of the napkins. She pulled the step stool over and climbed on it to reach the extra package stored in one of the high cupboards.

Kris rounded the doorway into the kitchen only to bump solidly into Shelby, who was stepping off the stool. Her surprise gave way to a plethora of fleeting impressions as her body reacted to the contact. She steadied Shelby and stepped away. "You okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

No. No I'm not okay. Shelby tried to slow her racing heart and had trouble finding her voice. "Yeah. Sorry."

"My fault. I didn't want you to go to any trouble on my account." She even remembered how I like my sandwich. "You go ahead and make yours. I'll make mine when I get out of the shower."

"I have a better idea. Why don't you go take your shower, and I'll fix both sandwiches. I really don't mind." She smiled winningly. "Okay?"

Gazing at Shelby, Kris nodded slowly. "Thank you. I'd like that."

Shelby smiled with relief at the small victory, turning her attention back to the sandwiches once Kris had left. She was still wired from the energy rolling off the operative in waves a few moments earlier, and her body instinctively reveled in the sensation.

Her thoughts turned reflective. She had given up trying to justify her feelings for Kris. For the first time in her life, Shelby thought she understood what her sister, Jackie, had said two years before about her decision to marry Steven and move to Seattle.

"Shelby, have you ever met anyone that just took your breath away and you didn't know why, but they did? Such a strong attraction that you couldn't ignore it, and you just knew you had to know more about that person? That's how I felt about Steve. I was lucky. He felt the same way."

Shelby knew now. Kris had never encouraged her interest in any way; and to the best of her knowledge, the operative had no interest in her. Yet, her burning desire to know all about the enigmatic woman increased with each passing day. She smiled ruefully. Hey, Jackie, what would you think if I told you I know what you mean now? What would you think if I told you I have that feeling...for another woman? What would you think if I told you she was an assassin? What would you think if I told you she was on a list of suspects for a series of unsanctioned hits?

The internal conversation ended as Shelby acknowledged that it didn't matter what her sister or anyone else thought. What mattered was what she felt, and it didn't matter to her that Kris was a woman. She really didn't think her partner was the killer they were looking for - so she dismissed that part of the equation.

If the rumors were to be believed, Kris was indeed a very deadly assassin. On a logical level, she understood the operative's activities were government sanctioned, but she wondered how Kris could've become hard and calloused enough to kill without remorse. Or did she? Shelby suddenly realized she didn't know the answer to that.

She briefly pondered why she didn't have more of a problem dealing with her feelings for a woman. Her mother and stepfather had both preached about the sins of society and in their minds, homosexuality was one of them. Her face darkened momentarily. Like he had the right to talk about anyone else.

Shelby's mind continued its meanderings. Her background in psychology had demanded much self-analysis. She genuinely enjoyed interacting with others, but trust was something she guarded zealously. Do I trust Kris? Beyond the surface? I want to. Do I dare to?

She sadly acknowledged that she was unlikely to ever find out because she was trapped in a no win situation. Her feelings weren't something that were going to go away when Kris left, and the chance of them being reciprocated was infinitesimally small.

Kris took her time in the shower. Shelby had thrown her for a loop and she needed some time to try and get a handle on her feelings. She grinned ruefully. Even though she had mentally prepared to face a different reaction from Shelby, her body had obviously not listened to her mind and she had to physically refrain from just wrapping the small woman into hug when they had collided. She snorted. Don't think that would've gone over very well. An image of Shelby's flushed face appeared in her mind. Or would it have? It was an accident. Why had she been embarrassed? Maybe she wasn't.

She cares about me. Kris savored that thought as it caressed her mind, liking the way it felt. She wouldn't if she knew who and what you really are. The cold stark reality of the logical observation quickly extinguished her pleasure at Shelby's concern and she coldly turned her attention back to showering.

The operative had just finished donning a pair of shorts and a T-shirt when a quiet rap sounded on the door. Kris opened it to find Shelby standing there, holding out the bottle of peroxide.

"You forgot this."

Kris smiled at the thoughtfulness. "Thanks." She opened the bottle, held her arm over the sink and began pouring the disinfectant over the painfully scraped flesh.

Shelby stared at Kris and grabbed the bottle from her hand, and set it down. "I can't believe you did that." She reached around Kris, removed a large cotton ball from a container on the shelf over the toilet, and began gently dabbing the excess moisture from Kris' arm.

Resisting the instant urge to pull her arm away when Shelby grasped it, Kris watched her and when the other woman finally seemed satisfied, she asked dryly, "Finished?"

"No. I'm going to put some antibiotic ointment on it. It would be easier if you sat down."

Kris sat on the toilet, shaking her head, but actually enjoying the attention. She appreciated Shelby's feather light touch and smiled. "Thanks." The answering smile warmed her heart.

"You're all set. Let's go eat."

Kris trailed Shelby to the dining room, and sat down at the table. "Looks good."

Shelby chuckled. "Whatever you say." She picked up her sandwich and took a bite, realizing suddenly that she was starved. She quipped, "Hey, next time you decide to tackle me, could you pick a softer place?"

Kris had just taken a drink of Coke and fought to keep it from going down the wrong way. How about your bed? Stilling the inner voice, she commented wryly, "I'll be sure and keep that in mind."

A short time later, their sandwiches eaten, the two women remained sitting across from each other at the table. Shelby decided to bring up what had been bothering her most about the shooting. "How come we were shot at? You said the guy following us had nothing to do with the case. Then how come they came here? You said you would take care of it. I thought that's why you left work earlier today."

"We weren't shot at by the guy following me."

"Then who...?"

"I was going to ask you the same question. You hesitated when Earl asked you if you had any enemies. Why?"

Shelby answered evasively. "I was just thinking, that's all."

Kris met Shelby's eyes. "If you don't have any enemies, you wouldn't have to think about it. Who came to mind?"

"No one that would shoot at me, okay?" Shelby shoved her chair back, standing.

The operative stood with her. "Do you want to bet your life on that?! YOU are the one being shot at. Whoever it is might get lucky next time. Damn it! Talk to me."

Shelby walked over to the bookcase and stared blindly at her collection. "My stepfather threatened me when I testified against him in court for domestic violence against my mother. She refused to testify, but I did, so he was found guilty. Since he was such a fine upstanding citizen, all he got was three years' probation. I got a restraining order against him, and I haven't seen him since, but it's probably expired by now."

Sighing she turned to face Kris. "I don't know why he came to mind today. He's a despicable excuse for a man, but I really don't think he's capable of murder."

Kris looked into the guarded eyes and instinctively knew there was more. "He hurt you, too, didn't he?"

Shelby turned back to the bookcase. "It doesn't matter. It was a long time ago."

Kris moved behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing it. "It matters to me, Shelby."

Looking at Kris' reflection in the glass, Shelby asked, "Why?"

"Because you're a wonderful, delightful woman whom I've been lucky enough to get to know, and I care about you." Kris hadn't intended to voice her thoughts, but had no regrets about doing so.

Shelby's brow furrowed as she regarded the woman behind her. This was what she had wanted, and part of her was elated. But this meant sharing on a deeply personal level. Would the operative think less of her? Could she trust Kris not to pity her? "You care about me?"

Kris nodded her answer, knowing Shelby was watching her in the glass.

Making her decision, Shelby opened the bookcase door and pulled out a white horse with sparkling pink wings. She stared at the statue of Pegasus. "When I was a child, I used to believe in magic and knew that one day the real Pegasus would come and take me away from the pain and the hurt to a magical kingdom full of love. He never did. So I quit believing, but I loved the magical creatures anyway because I could escape into their world through books. They kept me from being lonely when I was locked in my room or spending hours in a corner. I prayed to God a lot, promising him I would be good and asking him to help me be the perfect little girl my stepfather wanted me to be so he wouldn't hurt me anymore. All that praying – it never did any good."

Taking a deep breath, Shelby began speaking in a voice totally devoid of emotion. "There's not much to tell. My father died when I was two. Mom worked for a couple of years, supporting me and my sister by herself, then married Jonathan Whiteman. He seemed like a dream come true. He took us to amusement parks, picnics, Sunday afternoon drives and when the circus came to town, he took us there. He bought us dolls and stuffed animals, always smiling and playing with us. He asked us to call him Daddy and told everyone we were his girls and how much he loved us. We grew to love him and thought we were the luckiest kids in the world to get such a nice, new daddy."

Kris was disturbed by the matter of fact monologue and began moving her hand in a soothing, circular motion over Shelby's back, hoping to offer the smaller woman comfort through the contact.

"Slowly things started changing. He started punishing us by making us stand in the corner for hours. We were just little kids. Each minute seemed like an eternity, and he would hit us if we sat down. As we got older, the punishments started getting really physical. A lot of times, Ann and I never even did what we were accused of."

When Shelby paused, Kris gently asked, "What about your mother? Didn't she do anything?"

Shelby sighed loudly. "She said he was only doing it because he loved us, and if we were good it wouldn't happen."

Kris could feel the white hot threads of anger course through her. "That's not love!"

"No. It's not. But we didn't know that and I didn't find out until a few years ago that she did try to stop it. We just figured we were really bad kids and were too ashamed and embarrassed to tell anyone. I thought things would get better when my first half brother was born. It didn't. It got even worse. He got a perverse pleasure out of beating us with the buckle end of his belt until we bled." Shelby shuddered at the memory.

Kris moved behind her, gently massaging her shoulders, trying to work some of the tension out of them. She said softly, "You don't have to continue. I get the picture." What I'd give to have fifteen minutes with that fucker.

But a dam had broken, and Shelby couldn't stop the litany. "I used to change for gym in the toilet stalls and afterwards wait until all the other girls finished showering before I took mine. The bruises that showed, like when he hit us in the face, we always explained away as a fall or some other accident we made up. One day when I was fourteen, he hit me for the last time. Something just snapped. I told him if he ever laid a hand on me or Ann again, I'd call the cops. He just laughed until I told him we'd taken pictures of the bruises and bloody welts from the beatings with our Polaroid camera and had them hidden at school."

Shelby chuckled mirthlessly. "We hadn't, but the threat worked. I didn't find out until four years ago that he'd been beating my mother all those years, too. She finally told me she had tried to stop him from beating us, but he'd just get mad and beat us even worse, so she quit saying anything hoping things would improve."

She turned to face Kris. "You know what hurt the most? He shattered our love and trust. God, I hate him. I know I shouldn't after all this time, but I still do."

Kris struggled to contain the anger that was now burning hotly within her. In what she hoped was a soothing voice, she said, "You have every right to hate him."

"I used to blame myself, knowing I must have done something terrible to make him beat us so much."

"No! Don't ever think that."

"I don't anymore. It took me a while to get there, though. Now, I understand he was just sick and warped." She shrugged. "Bet you're sorry you asked."

"No, I'm not. I understand only too well."

"What do you mean?"

"Before I moved in with my aunt and uncle, I spent two years in...a boarding school. The headmaster was an expert at emotional and mental abuse to ensure blind obedience. His favorite tactic was complete isolation. After a while I'd have done anything to stay out of that room. He occasionally engaged in corporal punishment, too, but preferred to mess with our heads. I've never quit hating him either, Shelby. So, I do understand."

The two women looked at each other awkwardly. Shelby put the statue back in the cupboard and closed the door. She blurted out, "I care about you, too," before abruptly turning away, and glancing at the table. "I'll clean up out here."

I know you do. "I'm glad you do. Now how about getting off of your leg and letting me take care of this."

Shelby smiled. "Thanks."

At 10:30, Kris rose from where she'd joined Shelby in front of the TV. "I'm going outside for a few minutes. I'll be right back."

"How come? I thought Earl said he was going have a couple agents on surveillance outside for the rest of tonight."

"They are. I'm just gonna go check on them and make sure they're doing their job."

Shelby grinned. "Don't scare them off, okay?"

Kris chuckled. "Would I do something like that?" She was amused by Shelby's insight and chuckled when an emphatic, "Yes," followed her out the door.

When the phone rang, Shelby debated not answering it. Because Kim was out of town on a business trip, she knew it was probably her mother wanting to know about dinner.

"Hi, dear. It's Mom. Are you coming over Sunday?"

"I'd love to, but I really can't this weekend."

Disbelief colored Lisa's tone. "Why not?"

"Remember I told you I'm working overtime on a case right now." Well, that's not really a lie. I am tied up because of the case.

"No one works 24 hours a day, Shelby. I'm sure you can fit a couple of hours for your family into your busy schedule."

Shelby inwardly sighed at the harsh voice. "Look, Mom. I'm working with someone who just transferred in, and she is staying here until the case is over. You yourself taught me how rude it is to ignore company."

Lisa couldn't argue that point and, suddenly curious about the spies she was sure her daughter worked with, said, "Bring her along."

"I can ask her, but I really don't think she would be comfortable in a house full of strangers."

"Well, ask her anyway. Tell her I am making my special fried chicken."

"Okay, I'll ask her, but don't count on it."

"You could try being a little more positive, dear. I'm sure you could convince her to come if you really wanted to. Bye bye."

Shelby refrained from slamming the phone down. Her mother never failed to get in a dig of some kind, and she'd done it again. She knew her mother was unhappy with her because she had been steadily decreasing the frequency of her visits.

She had hoped by doing that, her mother might get a hint and figure out that her constant criticism and complaining wasn't appreciated. So far it hadn't worked, and Shelby wondered if her mother even realized that she was doing it. Maybe she should be more direct and talk with her about it.

She stifled a chuckle as she thought about asking Kris if she would mind accompanying her to dinner at her mother's house. Now that she knew who she was, it seemed even more unlikely that the operative would accept. I'm not being fair. She's still a woman, just like I am, and has feelings, too. She has no real family. When's the last time she got invited to someone's house for dinner. Shelby snorted. Let's be realistic here. With her looks, she probably gets invitations all the time. But does she go? Mom can be great when she isn't in her whiny, critical mode. I think Kris would really like Jimmy and Jason. Maybe I will mention it and see what her reaction is.

Kris returned a short time later, and the two women retired for the night soon thereafter. Shelby had expected to be too wired to sleep, but quickly entered the dreamscape.

The operative stayed awake a little longer, her thoughts focused on one Jonathan Whiteman. She finally fell asleep after vowing to learn his whereabouts and find out just what he'd been doing for the past few years.

Blue was off the couch, gun in hand, before she was even sure what had awakened her. She was running toward Shelby's room as the sounds of a faint struggle consciously registered, and she entered the room in a crouch, presenting the smallest possible target.

Her heart slowed when she realized the room was empty except for Shelby, who appeared to be in the throes of a nightmare. She was still asleep, but her bedcovers were tangled and twisted as though she'd been battling demons, and Kris realized she probably had been. She silently cursed herself for asking the younger woman to recall the horrors of her childhood.

She quickly approached the bed, laid her gun on the nightstand, and knelt beside the bed. "Shelby. It's okay. Wake up."

"No!" Shelby thrashed, fighting the bedcovers, and when Kris laid a hand on her shoulder trying to wake her, she jerked away, the nightlight illuminating tears on her face.

Kris wrapped her arms around Shelby, moved onto the edge of the bed, and lifted the smaller woman into a half sitting position, tucking her firmly against her own body. "Shelby, wake up. You're safe. I've got you."

As Shelby started to calm in her arms, she continued her quiet assurances. "It's okay. You're safe. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Jonathan's enraged face began fading as Shelby drifted toward consciousness, her fear replaced by a strong feeling of comfort and safety. Her eyes fluttered open and she realized Kris was sitting on the bed gently rocking her back and forth.

Kris looked into the puzzled emerald eyes gazing at up at her. "You were having a nightmare."

Shelby nodded. "I haven't had one of those for years. Thanks for waking me up."

"It's the least I could do. I'm sorry, Shelby. I had no business asking you what I did today."

"It's not your fault. I think with everything that has been happening, my defenses were down."

Kris released Shelby. "You should get some sleep."

Shelby grasped her arm. "Wait. Would you stay in here? Just for a little while. I know I'm just being a baby, but please?"

"Sure." Kris thought of her own all too frequent nightmares. "You're not being a baby. Nightmares are hell."

Kris sat on the bed next to Shelby until the faint light of dawn appeared in the sky, ready to vanquish her demons should they reappear. Then she silently moved back to the couch in the living room, lying down to catch a quick hour of sleep.

Shelby sat at her desk the next morning and decided to broach the subject of her mother's invitation. "Hey, Kris." When the operative looked at her, she asked, "My mother invited us to dinner Sunday. Want to go?"

Even though she hadn't met Shelby's mother, she already strongly disliked her. In her mind, any mother who allowed her children to be abused should be severely castigated right along with the actual abuser. Kris raised an eyebrow until it disappeared behind a thick covering of bangs. "Us?"

"Yeah. I told her you had transferred in to work on a case with me and were staying at my house. I figured she'd just forget about dinner until after you left. Wrong. I think she's curious about who I work with."

Kris nodded. "Okay." It would be interesting to meet Shelby's mother. She also knew her options would have been limited if the analyst had insisted on going, and was glad that she'd been given a choice.

Shelby smiled broadly. "Oh good! Thanks!"

Kris grinned at Shelby's enthusiasm and turned back to her monitor, just biding her time until lunch. She wanted to meet with her contact immediately, but had no means to relay a message except through one of the drops. The quickest way, short of using the telephone number she'd gotten from Markov, would be using the emergency drop in Georgetown and leaving her cell phone number.

Her priority right now was to get the Russians to quit following her. The chance to deal with Sergei AKA Dimitri would come soon enough. She also wanted to eliminate the slight possibility that Markov had acted independently of his superiors and shot at them, but that didn't feel right. She was convinced someone else was targeting Shelby.

Kris thought about her meeting with Earl that morning. They had found the bullet, but it was unrecognizable when they finished digging it out of the blacktop. It would take a couple of days for their lab to determine what type of weapon it was fired from. She and Earl had jointly decided not to continue the additional surveillance because of the lack of CIA jurisdiction domestically. Kris had been secretly relieved, because she had no choice but to set up a meeting with her contact on the apartment grounds. Her only other option, one that she refused to entertain, would have been to leave Shelby alone.

"I'm going to lunch. I'll be back shortly."

"Want any company?"

Another time, another place, yes. Not here and not now. "If I wasn't going to take care of some business, I'd love it. How about Monday?"

"Okay." Shelby hadn't expected to be invited along, but Kris' words warmed the cool office air even as she speculated where the operative was going this time.