C. Paradee - Deep Cover

STARTLED WHEN THE doorbell chimed, Shelby looked up and automatically pressed the off button on the cellular phone before quickly making her way to the door. She'd heard quiet footfalls in the stairwell, but had disregarded them because Kris never made a sound when she climbed the steps.

With her eye at the peephole Shelby gazed out, seeing...nothing. She carefully searched the area again. Directing her gaze downward, her heart began pounding in fear. The angle of the peephole and the scant light limited visibility, but Shelby could make out a long, jean clad leg and an arm, the bicep covered by a light blue sleeve.

Oh my God. That's what Kris was wearing! She was barely cognizant of the thought, or of the potential danger, as she unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open until the chain stopped it. The fear she'd managed to hold at bay escalated at the sight of Kris lying, unmoving, on the ground outside her door. Driven by fear for the tall woman, she fumbled with releasing the chain, uttering an uncharacteristic curse at her awkwardness.

Pulling the door wide open, Shelby knelt down, immediately noticing the dried blood on Kris' mouth and then registering that her clothes and hair were wet. She laid two fingers gently against the operative's neck, searching for a pulse, and sighed in relief at the steady, regular rhythm. Her eyes cut to a folded piece of paper pinned to Kris' collar, then to the operative's gun lying on the ground between her body and the door. Slightly tearing the paper in her haste to remove it, Shelby opened the note, resting her hand on Kris' arm as she read the neat script.

She is just sleeping off a sedative and should awaken within two hours. Do not call anyone. To do so would greatly endanger both of your lives.

Quickly pocketing the note, Shelby swallowed her fear, unwilling to devote any time to deciphering the cryptic, threatening message. Right now, her first priority was to get Kris inside, but that wasn't going to be easy - the tall woman outweighed her by at least thirty pounds. She picked up the gun and put it in her jacket pocket. All I need is for someone to see that.

Positioning herself at Kris' head, she placed her hands under the operative's shoulders, but quickly realized she was not going to be able to drag her partner inside by herself. Shelby gently squeezed Kris' arm, reluctant to break contact. "Don't worry. I'll be right back."

Barely aware of having spoken aloud, Shelby stood up and began to step over Kris. Her movement caused the gun to bump against her hip, and she realized the weapon was protruding from her pocket. Backing into the apartment, she laid it on the floor in the foyer closet, and shooed Stormy away from the front door before pulling it closed and stepping carefully over Kris. She hurriedly walked the several paces to her closest neighbor and knocked, beginning her entreaty when Bill answered the door.

"Hi, my friend got a little inebriated, and passed out. I was wondering if you'd mind helping me get her into the apartment."

Bill laughed. "Hey, no problem. Been there, done that." He followed Shelby to her fallen friend. Looking at the small streak of blood on Kris' chin, he commented, "She run into the door or something?" When Shelby nodded, he asked curiously, "What did you do, try to wake her up with water?"

Shelby forced a laugh. "Didn't work. You know how drunks are."

"Right." Bill eyed the attractive woman lying on the ground. "Boy is she going to feel like hell in the morning."

"I hear you." Shelby helped Bill raise Kris up to a sitting position, then watched as he hefted her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and slowly stood up.

"Where do you want her?"

"In my bedroom. She needs the bed worse than I do, tonight."

"You ain't lying. She's really out."

Shelby grabbed two sheets and a couple of towels out of the linen closet on the way down the hallway. Preparing the bed, she quickly pulled down the covers and, leaving the sheets folded in half, spread them on one side of the bed before laying a large towel on the other side. Once she got Kris' wet clothes off, she didn't want her lying on a wet sheet.

She stood aside as Bill deposited the operative on the bed, then accompanied him out of the apartment, thanking him profusely. After securing the door, she practically ran back to the bedroom, her jovial mask replaced with worry.

Wryly aware it was mostly for her own benefit, she nervously began talking to the sleeping woman. "Don't worry. I'll take care of stuff tonight. You have no idea how worried I was about you. I'm just so glad you're okay." Shelby continued stroking the operative's cheek and muttering soothing words as her mind sorted out the best way to remove Kris' wet clothes.

After turning on the light, she leaned over Kris, gently brushed her wet bangs aside, and laid a hand lightly on her forehead. It was cool, but not alarmingly so. Her heart tightened at the red mark on Kris' face and the dried blood on her mouth, and she left to get a washcloth, also grabbing Kris' sleeping shirt from the hook next to her own on the bathroom door.

Shelby returned to the bedroom, slipped her jacket off, and tossed it on a chair. She picked up the washcloth and tenderly wiped the blood from Kris' mouth, noting it had apparently come from a cut inside her mouth. Next, she untied the operative's shoes and tugged them off. Shaking her head, she muttered almost apologetically, "I've gotta get you out of those wet clothes."

A quick trip to the kitchen and she returned with a large pair of scissors, lifted the bottom of Kris' shirt and began cutting it up the middle. She gently chastised Kris as she worked. "I don't want to hear any complaints about your clothes either. You got that? You're the one who turns up wet and unconscious at the door, scaring me half to death." Shelby's voice changed from scolding to concerned. "Who did this to you? And why are you soaking wet?"

As she cut through the fabric, the shirt fell to the sides and Shelby suddenly froze, gasping in horror, "Oh, Kris!"

Angry red and purple bruises covered every inch of skin exposed. Holding her breath, Shelby finished splitting the shirt, noting that the damage seemed concentrated beneath her friend's bra line - from her lower ribs down. Wanting to assess all injuries, Shelby gingerly approached the lower body. She had difficulty unfastening the tall woman's wet jeans, but finally got the zipper down after a struggle. Fearful of what she might find, Shelby gently pulled down the waistband of Kris' underwear, sighing with relief when she saw the bruising didn't extend much lower.

Unaware of tears tracking down her face, Shelby went back to removing the shirt, cutting a path from the center of the garment to each arm until it fell away. "Why couldn't you just talk to me? What's so hard about that? Maybe I could've helped before...before..." Her voice broke as her fingers hovered just above the bruised skin, never quite touching while she studied the jeans. They were going to be harder, and Shelby decided on just splitting them at the outside seam, thankful that they weren't overly snug.

She finally finished, setting the scissors down and ignoring the blister that had formed on her thumb. Freeing Kris from the jeans, she tossed them on the floor, followed a few minutes later by the shirt. In the best business like manner she could muster under the circumstances, Shelby picked the scissors up again. "Sorry, but this is all your own fault." Slightly embarrassed, she cut the bra in front, snipped the straps, then slit the blue stained underwear at the sides, adding both to the pile of wet clothes on the floor. Shelby gazed at the beautiful body, marred only by the mottled color of Kris' abdomen, before diverting her eyes, chastising herself for having indulged in the guilty pleasure.