C. Paradee - Deep Cover

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."