Deep cover, p.7
Deep Cover, page 7
"Fine. But I'm still not ignoring you and if I make something to eat, I'm making enough for both of us. I wouldn't want the person protecting me to be too weak to do her job effectively."
Kris had to smother a smile at Shelby's last comment. "I didn't mean to offend you. I just don't want you to go to any extra trouble on account of my staying here."
Shelby met Kris' eyes. "It's no trouble."
Kris had to force herself to look away from the dancing green pools that were brimming with sincerity. The operative suddenly realized she wasn't going to win this battle and capitulated. "What do you want me to do?"
"Protect me, of course." Shelby grinned when a smile finally appeared on Kris' face.
"That I can do."
"Why don't you put your things in the bedroom? I'll change the bedding for you after dinner."
"I'm not taking your bed. I'll sleep on the couch."
Shelby looked at the couch and then looked up at Kris. "Just how do you think you're going to fit on it?"
"It'll be more comfortable than a lot of places I've slept."
Nodding, Shelby decided to make dinner. They could talk about it later. It didn't make any sense to her for Kris to sleep on the couch. She'd fallen asleep on it more than once and it was just big enough for her. Kris was over half a foot taller than she was.
Shelby walked over to a closet in the alcove by the apartment door and pushed aside her winter coat and a couple of lighter jackets. "You can hang your clothes in here, if you want."
"Thanks." Kris grinned ruefully as she watched Shelby walk into the kitchen. This job was going to be even tougher than she had thought it would be.
An hour later, they finished eating the spaghetti dinner Shelby had prepared and Kris helped her clear the table, placing the dishes in the dishwasher. "That was delicious. You're a good cook."
A slight blush appeared on Shelby's face. "Thanks."
The remainder of the evening passed quickly with Shelby carrying most of the conversation, determined to get the tall woman to relax. Kris felt some of her tension fade as she listened to Shelby chat while she softly petted the kitten that had decided to curl up in her lap, after spending most of the evening on Shelby's.
At eleven Shelby stood up. "I'm beat. I'm going to take a shower and go to bed. I'll put out some towels and a washcloth for you when I'm finished."
Kris nodded and turned off the mute button on the TV. She looked back at Shelby when the analyst called her name. "Yeah?"
"I want to sleep on the couch. There's a small TV in the bedroom you can watch."
"I thought we already settled where we were sleeping?"
"You're not gonna be comfortable on the couch. Why don't you take the bed?"
Kris found it hard to reject the sincere appeal that was evident in both Shelby's voice and on her face. "I won't be able to hear or see enough from the bedroom."
Shelby sighed. "Okay." She had enjoyed Kris's company so much she had almost forgotten why Kris was there.
"Shelby." Kris waited for the analyst to look at her. "Thanks for the offer."
Kris was graced with a smile that warmed her heart. Oh am I in trouble. "Nite."
"Goodnight."
A short time later the lights in the apartment were extinguished as both women entered the dream world.
CHAPTER 5
JEB LOOKED UP in surprise when the doorbell chimed. His wife, Sharon, had gone to bed before the late news started, so he hurried to the door, not wanting her to be awakened. A smile spread across his face when he saw his younger brother through the peephole and he unlocked the door, pulling it open.
"Michael! When did you get back? Come on in." Jeb looked up at his tall brother grinning. Michael was 6'3" with close-cropped nearly black hair. He ruefully acknowledged his brother had gotten the looks in the family. His wife had even commented that Michael could have been a model for the cover of Harlequin romances had he chosen to.
"Hey, Jimbo. Just got back. I decided to take a few days of leave." Michael had actually been in town for two days, but his brother didn't need to know that. "I know it's late, but I couldn't wait to see you. It's been what? Two years?"
"At least. You're staying here, aren't you?"
"I don't want to put you out..."
"You won't be. Hell, the spare bedroom hasn't been used since last time you stayed here. You still on cold loan?"
Jeb had been secretly relieved when Michael had requested to be transferred from field operations to the much safer work of providing technical assistance to allies on their intelligence gathering operations.
"Yeah."
"Want something to drink?"
"How about some of that good scotch you keep hidden." Michael watched his brother prepare their drinks, his thoughts far away. For two years, his life had been a living hell, but for the past six months he'd been laying the groundwork to change that. There were only a few more pieces to put into play, but he needed some information first, and his doting big brother would be a good source.
Jeb looked up at Michael as he handed him a scotch on the rocks. "It's more comfortable in the living room."
A few hours later, Jeb looked at the clock, surprised it was approaching three. "I gotta get a few hours of sleep. You must be tired, too."
"Yeah, I am."
Michael followed his brother out of the living room, turning into the guestroom as Jeb continued on to the master bedroom.
* * *
Kris was roused for the third time as her subconscious picked up on a barely discernable noise. Alert now, she listened intently in the dark, silent room, her eyes traversing shapes illuminated only by a sliver of light visible between the drawn drapes. Satisfied there was no cause for alarm, she decided to get up anyway. Her internal clock was uncannily accurate and Kris knew it was close to five, her customary waking time.
The operative quietly made her way to the bathroom, but detoured toward a faint light coming from the bedroom further down the hallway. She stopped in the doorway and gazed at Shelby, the night light in the globe of the lamp next to the bed casting a small beam of light across both the sleeping woman's face and the kitten sleeping next to her on the pillow.
Smiling at the wayward locks of blond hair mussed by sleep and the sheet wrapped around Shelby's middle, she resisted the urge to straighten out the bedding and cover her up, not wanting to wake or frighten her. You look so content. What are you dreaming about? In a self-deprecating moment, Kris was glad it didn't parallel the nightmare visions of her dreams.
She briefly wondered why the nightlight burned. Kris had studied people for years in order to better learn how to blend in with the local populace when on an assignment, and one thing she'd learned over time was that there was usually an underlying reason for each habit a person exhibited.
The operative suddenly felt a surge of protectiveness toward this virtual stranger. Kris backed out of the doorway, unsettled by the intensity of her reaction and struggling to bury the troubling emotion. She was finally able to do so only by forcing her real identity into her mind's eye, and along with it, the distancing she had developed in order to survive.
After a quick detour to the bathroom, Kris entered the kitchen, turning on an overhead light. She saw the tell-tale red light of a timer glowing from the coffee maker on the speckled beige Formica counter and switched it off to start the coffee brewing as she studied the kitchen. The night before, her assessment of the apartment had been general impressions made primarily from a security standpoint. Alone now, she could study the decor unobserved and hopefully gain some insight into her new partner. Kris' analytical mind refuted the justification that her interest was solely professional. With steely resolve she quelled the doubts that plagued her, unwilling to admit any personal curiosity.
Kris scanned the tiny room with an eye trained to notice the smallest details. It was little more than a wide aisle between the dining room and hall, and she decided it would be a tight fit for more than one person at a time. A white refrigerator and stove were centered on one side with a sink and dishwasher on the other, all the appliances surrounded by cupboards. Thinking of Shelby's short stature, Kris opened a cupboard over the refrigerator out of curiosity. She had expected it to be empty, but instead found a cache of cooking herbs and spices. Makes sense. Stuff she probably doesn't use every day.
She looked into the dining room, her eyes skimming the bookcase she had examined the previous night, then turned her attention to a matching bookcase that was filled with more traditional ware of hardback and paperback books. Kris' eyes skipped over the college textbooks and lingered on the other titles, which included quite a variety of reading material ranging from sagas like The Clan of the Cave Bear to thrillers, most notably, Silence of the Lambs. Finishing her perusal, the operative concluded that Shelby's favorite reading material was probably romance and mysteries, but it was difficult to ascertain for sure because of the mishmash of other genres evidenced in the bookcase.
She turned her attention to a picture on the wall. It was a still-life painting of a single pink rose, elegant in its simplicity and a sharp contrast to the magical creatures displayed in the bookcase. Kris glanced quickly at the papers spread over the table, discerning that Shelby was taking an online course on investigative techniques. She smiled, impressed. You don't intend to be caught short, do you?
Very demanding, high-pitched mewing interrupted her thoughts. She looked down at the little ragamuffin and grinned. "Come on. Your food is in the kitchen." Kris quickly opened a small can of food and dumped it into the dish Shelby had left on the floor. Watching the kitten bolt it down, her thoughts turned back in time.
Her mother had come home from work carrying a covered basket. She set it on the floor and said, "Happy birthday, Natasha."
She frowned and looked up at her mother. Even at the tender age of five she knew they were very poor and to receive a gift was incomprehensible to the young child.
"Go ahead and look," her mother encouraged.
Not needing a second invitation, she had opened the lid of the basket and her eyes widened in surprise as she lifted out a tiny white kitten. She had asked her mother for a kitten many times, but her mother had steadfastly refused, saying they could not afford to feed a cat. Gently holding the kitten close, she rubbed her cheek softly against its fur, smiling delightedly. "Thank you, Mama. I love it." She carefully set the kitten back in the basket and threw herself into her mother's embrace, her thin arms dwarfed by her mother's stature. She promised her mother, "I'll share my food with it."
Her mother had kissed her head. "Igor said that if you help him around the store each day after school, he will pay you with food for the kitten."
"I will, Mama. I'll help him every day!"
She had, too, until her life spun irrevocably out of control . . .
Kris consciously cut the recollection off. It had been years since she had allowed that memory to surface, and she was angry that it had slipped past her defenses now. What's wrong with me, anyway? It's gotta be this damn case. Shaking her head, she resolutely ignored the inner voice that suggested, More likely your new partner. She's getting to you.
The operative stalked to the balcony door, threw aside the drapes, unlocked it and stepped outside. Dawn had barely begun to lighten the sky and she stayed in the shadows while carefully scanning the parking lot for anything that appeared unusual. Kris relied heavily on a finely honed sixth sense that alerted her to danger and when her visual scan revealed nothing, her instincts corroborated that finding.
Shelby was a problem, and Kris knew she needed to regain control of her emotions to avoid any more lapses. Damn woman isn't making it any easier, either. Discovering the relationship between operatives' locations and the assassinations had required a very organized, intelligent approach. Then she worked relentlessly, even skipping lunch to prove herself. Why? What does she care what I think? And she has to go and insist on cooking for both of us and even tries to give me her bed. Why couldn't I have gotten some dull, boring analyst?
Shelby woke to the smell of brewing coffee and glanced at her alarm clock noting it was only 5:30. Much more interested in spending time with the enigmatic operative than staying in bed, she decided to forgo the extra hour of sleep and got up, donning her robe.
She was greeted by a gray fur-ball sitting contentedly next to an empty dish, thoroughly cleaning her face with a paw. "You are too cute!" Shelby bent down and stroked the kitten a couple of times, before standing up and letting the kitten resume her bath.
Kris must have gone back to bed. Quietly walking into the living room, she saw an empty couch and slightly separated drapes. Shelby moved so that she could see through the small opening and gazed at the tall operative standing on the small balcony in just her long white nightshirt. A steady breeze was blowing wisps of hair across her face, but Shelby could see a far away, troubled expression on the other woman's countenance. She wondered what demons haunted Kris, yet knew any attempt to find out would be rebuffed, so she returned to the kitchen with an alternative approach in mind.
Kris had been lost in her thoughts and whirled around when she felt a presence behind her. Her resolve to distance herself began to fade when she saw Shelby standing there in a pink cotton robe with locks of hair lying every which way, smiling warmly and holding out a cup of coffee.
"It was ready. Thought you might like a cup."
"Thanks." Kris raised an eyebrow. "Where's yours?"
"I left it inside. I didn't know if you wanted any company."
Kris smiled. "I'll join you inside."
Shelby couldn't keep her smile from widening and turned away, a little embarrassed that she was so pleased Kris was going to join her. You'd think drinking coffee together was a big deal.
The operative watched the analyst walk back inside before slowly following her. It's only for coffee.
Quickly gathering her papers and stacking them in a pile in a corner of the table, Shelby closed the laptop and set it on the floor next to the bookcase. She glanced up to find Kris watching her. "Thought I should make a little room."
Shelby waited for Kris to sit down and then joined her, searching for a neutral subject to talk about that wouldn't be too intrusive, but would allow her to learn more about her companion. She decided their jobs should be a safe topic. "Have you worked for the Company long?"
Kris looked intently at Shelby's open, friendly face and decided to answer. "Ever since I graduated from college." She almost chuckled at the expression on Shelby's face that clearly asked, 'and?' "Eight years. How 'bout you?"
"Not even a year yet. It wasn't my first job out of college. I kind of stumbled into it when I answered an ad in the paper." Shelby knew they sometimes sent representatives to the various universities, and asked, "Did they recruit you from college?"
"No. An aunt and uncle raised me. My uncle wanted me to follow in his footsteps and go to West Point. We compromised on the Company." That part was mostly true, except those two cold strangers had not been relatives. Kris had joined the CIA with a much different agenda than the one her "relatives" had planned for her, and she had successfully implemented it until her recent recall from the field had allowed the shadows of her past to once again materialize.
Shelby gazed at the contemplative expression on Kris' face, wishing she knew what the other woman was thinking about. Her thoughts were interrupted when the kitten jumped into her lap. "Oh no. Not at the table." She gently set the kitten on the floor, and chuckled when it walked away, insulted at the rebuff.
"What did you name the kitten?"
"I haven't. I didn't want to name her because I'm not keeping her. I don't want her to be lonely when I go to work so I'm going to try and find her a home where someone is home during the day."
"I don't think you're going to find her a better home than the one she has right now."
Shelby blushed at the unexpected compliment. "Thanks. I just don't want her to be lonely."
"She's not. Look at her."
Shelby watched the kitten chase one of the small balls she had bought for her across the room.
"She probably sleeps all day when you're gone. I read once that cats sleep twenty hours a day. Anyway, you didn't put an ad in the paper yet, did you?"
Busted! Shelby had justified that by being too busy working on the new case, but she had found time to make a vet appointment for Saturday. "No."
Kris quirked a half-smile. "So what're you gonna name her?"
"Maybe Angel." She laughed when Kris rolled her eyes. "Well, do you have any better suggestions?"
"How about Scruffy."
"I'm sure!" Shelby studied the frolicking kitten trying to think of a fitting name. "Her fur is the color of clouds during a thunderstorm."
Kris turned mirth filled eyes on Shelby. "Don't tell me you're gonna name her Thunder."
Shelby chuckled, enjoying the exchange. "You're not being serious. I was thinking more along the lines of Stormy. I think it kind of fits her."
Glancing at the kitten, Kris agreed, "Yeah it does."
"Glad you approve," Shelby teased, then smiled inwardly when a slight blush darkened Kris' cheeks. "What do you like for breakfast?"
"Coffee."
Shelby was not going to be deterred in her effort to make Kris more comfortable. "What else?"
"I don't usually eat breakfast."
Two can play this game. "When you do eat breakfast, what do you like?"
Kris hid a smile at Shelby's tenacity. It was apparent to her that while she was determined not to burden her hostess, Shelby was just as determined to make her feel welcome. "Eggs, bacon, toast, juice, fruit..." She started laughing when her companion's forehead furrowed in concern. "I'm only kidding. An English muffin or bagel is usually all I have unless I eat a late breakfast on the weekend."
Shelby shook her head at the recalcitrant woman. You just might have a surprise coming Saturday. "I've got some plain bagels. Do you like orange juice?"
"Yeah, that sounds good." She watched Shelby gather their breakfast in the small kitchen and stood up to help her carry the glasses of juice.
