Covert

by Shani Dowdell

"K, mama."

  She was already on the top about to slide down again. Her being a dare devil was going to give me a freaking heart attack. She was halfway down the slide, when I turned in the direction of a loud engine roaring close by. I quickly scanned the area to see where the sound was coming from. A car hit my front curb and crossed over my front lawn, traveling toward the side driveway where I was sitting watching Britt.

  I stood up and looked for Brittney. She’d made it to the bottom of the slide with her hands in the air as she celebrated another ride down the slide. A huge black truck was recklessly headed in her direction. My sweet baby’s life flashed before my eyes as the car collided with the slide and toppled it over.

  Still in motion, the wheel of the truck turned in slightly and crashed into the utility shed.

  "Brittneeeey!" I yelled, removing my pistol from my waist strap as I stood from my lounger. I ran full speed over to my daughter who was lying underneath the heap of debris from her slide. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing in short deep breaths. There was blood trickling from a gash on her temple. “Brittney, baby say something!” I yelled as I checked her pulse, which was present but going faint. “No baby, no!” I said, placing the gun on the ground beside her limp body. I didn’t care about anything or anyone at that point but Brittney. “Come on baby, fight.”

  I positioned her flat on the ground and prepared to give her CPR. I leaned down to take her pulse, when I heard my next door neighbor, Jane Ritzen ask, “Is she okay, Nikki?”

  Her voice jarred me to looked over at the truck that’s was half sticking out of the utility shed. No one had gotten out, and besides the wheels turning and engine revving, there was no sign of anyone being inside the vehicle.

  Jane began dialing some numbers on her cellphone.

  “Oh, God,” she said when she saw me pick Brittney up into my arms. “Leave her lying flat, Nikki, I’m calling 911 now,” she urged.

  "Brittney! Lord, please don't take my baby," I hollered out prayers and begged for mercy as I lie my baby flat on the ground. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing and had a pulse. It was just a matter of getting her to the hospital to get the help she needed. "I need an ambulance now," I said to Jane who was giving the operator the run down.

  “They said an ambulance is less than three minutes away, Nikki. Don’t worry, your little angel is going to be just fine,” she said, her eyes wide and choking back a cry of her own.

  I kneeled over Brittney and held her hand. “Everything is going to be okay, shugga lump. It’s going to be okay, Britt.”

  Siren blared from the distance. As the blaring noise got closer and closer, my anguish eased but only slightly. Brittney’s vitals were still good, but she hadn’t opened her eyes. The ambulance personnel arrived and used spinal precautions to put Brittney on the stretcher to take her to the hospital.

  With my daughter in the hands of trained professionals, I picked up my pistol and approached the shed, where the wrecked vehicle haphazardly landed. The back wheel was up off the ground and still spinning. I opened the shed door, gun drawn and aimed at the vehicle. I lowered my weapon in disappointment, when I realized the car was empty. I would have taken pleasure in blasting a hole in the person foolish enough to put my daughter’s life in danger.

  I approached the vehicle with my gun aimed. The closer I got to it, the clearer the writing on the driver’s window became. Inside of the dirty window, someone had written, “I Know Who You Are.” I picked up a dusty rag that was on top of my craft table and wiped the message away.

  Heart racing, I rejoined the ambulance personnel who now had Brittney hooked up to a breathing tube for bag valve ventilations and hooked up to a heart monitor. Within thirty minutes, we were at the hospital and Brittney was undergoing a battery of tests.

  “She has some internal injuries and has lost a lot of blood. She’s going to need a blood transfusion,” the doctor said. “Her blood type is rare and we don’t have any in the blood bank. The only donor we can use now would most likely be a parent, or a person with her very rare blood type,” he added.

  Granson was the first to speak up. "I will do anything for my daughter, doc," he said while holding his arm out to let them know that his blood was Brittney’s blood, and if she needed his blood he would be proud to give it.

  A sample of blood was taken from us both and sent to the lab. Brittney was losing blood through a rupture in her stomach muscle, as a result of the slide being pushed into her stomach. According to the doctors, she would need blood and possibly surgery, but she would be okay in time, if given the proper care. It was going to be touch and go, but there was hope.

  An hour later, the doctor walked into Britt's room and said, "Ms. Jones, Mr. Laruth, may I have a talk with you two out in the hall?” We stood to go out in the hall, so he looked at his nurse and added, “Jackie will you stay with Brittney?"

  "Sure," Nurse Jackie said as the doctor, Granson and I left the room.

  In the hallway, the doctor’s demeanor changed. He looked like he’d seen a ghost as he stared at us with an unreadable expression etched across his weathered face. What in the hell could he possibly have to say? Lord, don’t let this man say that my daughter will die in this hospital. I was so scared that the doctor was about to tell me that my daughter had a few days to live that I clenched Granson's arm and prepared myself for the worst. If I lost Brittney in this way, the person responsible for that truck crashing into her playground set was just as good as dead. Heck, he probably already was as good as dead just on general purpose.

  "What is it Dr. Dewberry?" I asked.

  "Yeah, just say it. Man, you have us worried sick," Granson said, raising his voice to a pitch that showed that he was just as frightened as I was.

  "Well, there is no easy way for me to say this, but your blood was a perfect match Ms. Jones, but because of your low blood count you can't donate," the doctor said as he peered at the test results in front of him.

  "No problem. I told you, I have no problem donating blood. Britt can have any organ, bone, cartilage or tissue on my body that she needs. She's able to get blood from either of us, right?" Granson asked, looking as if he wanted to shake some sense into the stupid ass doctor for even insinuating that out of both of us one wouldn’t be able to give her what she needed.

  "See, that's the problem, Mr. Laruth. Brittney has an O-negative blood type, which makes you ineligible to donate, since you are AB negative. Her body would immediately reject your blood and that would not help her at this point. It could make things worse," the doctor explained.

  "Is that even possible? How is it that Britt has O negative blood and I have AB type blood?" Granson asked as he aggressively ran his hands through his curly hair looking perplexed.

  The doctor's uneasy hand finally steadied on the papers he was holding in his hand. He looked me square in the eyes, while saying to Granson, "Sir, it’s genetically possible for you two to have two different blood types, but not genetically possible for you to be her father. Science tells us that there is just no way that you are the father, based on the blood results. I'm sorry." Turning to face me, the doctor said, "I will do everything that I can for her including searching local blood banks for the units needed. However, right now there is a city-wide shortage on O type blood. Here’s a list of iron rich foods you could eat and vitamins you can take to build your iron, but of course you know time is of the essence.” He handed me a paper on building my iron level.

  “I don’t care how low my blood is, I want to donate,” I say as he turns to walk away.

  “I’m not allowed to do that, Ms. Jones. If anything should change, I will let you know." Dr. Dewberry walked away quickly, leaving me to stand there looking in Granson's bloodshot eyes.

  Immediately, I thought back to last night and the way I’d slept with Blaine. We used protection, but obviously somewhere along the line protection hadn’t been fool proof over the years. Shit.

  "Nikki, what does that doctor mean that Brittney’s
not mine? She is our only child and she is my world. How could this be? Please tell me that this shit is not real, right now," Granson growled out, bringing me back to the dilemma that I refused to face.

  "Our child is in that room struggling for her life. Let's not do this right now, Granson."

  “Fuck you mean not to do this right now, Nikki? If this is not the biggest pot of shit I’ve ever been fed,” Granson said as he threw both of his hands up in the air and waved me off. He had the most incredulous look on his face, brows furrowed, mouth agape and pain deep set in his hazel eyes.

  “Nothing has changed, Granson. Our child—”

  "Your child is in there struggling for her life. Fuck you, Nicollette, and the ground you walk on," he said before storming out of the nurse's station knocking over any and everything in his path.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Mother’s Baby, Daddy’s maybe

  Sir, it’s genetically possible for you two to have two different blood types, but not genetically possible for you to be her father. Science tells us that there is just no way that you are the father, based on the blood results. I'm sorry…

  I couldn't move from the spot I was standing in when Granson stormed out of the nursing ward. Each of my feet felt like a hundred pounds of dead weight that refused to budge. It seemed like I stood in that one place for hours, as the news of Brittney’s paternity echoed in my head.

  Nikki, what does that doctor mean that Brittney’s not mine? She is our only child and she is my world. How could this be? Please tell me that this shit is not real, right now.

  This bombshell, on this day of all days, wasn't something I could formulate a plan for. I'd taken down terrorists, crime mobs, drug dealers, and every assortment of human scum known to man, yet I couldn’t think of what to say to Granson about Brittney. The past six years as a CIA agent seemed to mean nothing to me, as I stood there alone, left to pick up the pieces of my personal life.

  Had I been involved with more than a few men while on duty? Yes, but that didn't mean that I didn't at least attempt to use protection. Many of my covers called for me to get on the inside by dating men or even becoming their main girl, which led to me spending nights away from home, sex and even emotional ties. A few of those encounters were during the time I conceived Brittney.

  "Ma'am, are you alright?" The nurse touched my shoulder with worry in her eyes.

  I heaved a deep sigh and nodded. I choked back the loud wail that threatened to escape from the depths of my soul. "I'm fine. Just had a bit of a shock," I said, pulling myself together.

  "Brittney's asleep now. We've done all we can to make her comfortable and the pain doesn't seem to be bothering her as much as it was before," she said.

  I shook my head, trying to get back in control of my emotions. "Neither her father or I can give blood to her. Will she be alright while the doctor looks for her blood type?"

  "She'll be fine. We've stopped the bleeding for now. The doctor was just concerned about any internal injuries she might have sustained from the crash, but as long as she remains stable she’ll be out of the woods."

  I closed my eyes in relief. At least Britt wasn't in pain and she was going to be alright. I had faith in everything the nurse told me.

  I thought back on the crash, my mind conjuring the image with such clarity that it was like I was reliving it again. There hadn't been anyone in the driver's seat of the vehicle that landed in my shed after striking Britt. This was not an accident. Whoever was responsible was targeting us. I couldn’t understand how though.

  Think Nik, think.

  I retraced my steps. I never left anything behind when dealing with suspects. My undercover persona was very different than Nikki or Nicolette Jones, which were used in my office and personal life. But there was one detail that I’d possibly missed. Something I started doing recently. Maybe I’d gotten too cocky.

  “Thanks for the update,” I said to the nurse. I took out my cell phone and dialed the number for Wiley. He picked up on the first ring.

  "I saw the report on the news. I’m headed to the hospital now," he said.

  "That’s not necessary. I'm fine, but—" I stop mid-sentence. I kept my life with Granson and Britt away from the agency. I had planned to keep both worlds separate until I retired. But with news reports of the accident and Wiley knowing, my cover was blown. If Wiley knew, everyone knew.

  "Nik? Are you alright?"

  "No, no I'm not. I think I’ve become a target for the terrorist ring we're investigating."

  "But I thought you went in and out without leaving a trace."

  "I left a lipstick-stained napkin. The terror cell must have found the bug and linked it to me by DNA, a missed fingerprint or something."

  There's a beat of silence on the other side of the line. "I thought you swept the place before you left. What are you doing leaving DNA evidence on a napkin? Nik, what the hell were you thinking?" asked Wiley.

  “I wasn't thinking at the time. I was more focused on how many orgasms I could get Blaine to have before he passed out. You know my job isn’t exactly as easy as it sounds,” I said in my defense. Sad thing was, I thought I was being cleaver. It turned out that I’d made an amateur move for this sophisticated cell.

  "We need to get you to safety," my partner continued, "Where are you now? I can drive over and get some things from the house and we can go to HQ."

  "I'm at the hospital. I just have to make sure Britt is in good hands before I leave her. Can you go to my place and bring me as much clothing as you can gather and get over here quickly? My bedroom's on the left as soon as you walk in the door."

  “Gotcha,” Wiley complied without another word.

  I hung up and headed into my daughter's room, trying not to cry but failing miserably. There was too much going on in my life and I couldn't do anything to attempt to get my control back. I looked down at my lovely little angel—mama’s shugga lump. She was fast asleep on her back, clutching the blankets up to her chin. I could see her face contort in pain every few minutes, so I knew that her pain levels were starting to rise.

  I wished that Granson was still in the room. I wished that the doctor had never told us anything and that we could have gone on our way living life as the family we’d built together.

  ***

  “Stay put here. As soon as I get a lead I will call you.”

  I didn’t reply to Wiley. I just stood by the front door of one of our safe houses and looked around. There was no way in hell I was going to sit around here all night.

  “Do you hear me, Nik?”

  “I do hear you,” I say with an attitude as I snatch my bag from Wiley and throw it on a nearby sofa. “I know this is protocol, but what I really want to do is hunt that bastard down who hurt my daughter and wring his neck with my bare hands.”

  “That’s why you’re staying here. I don’t have time to be going off the record with your Wild Wild West antics. You’re liable to land us both in the feds with the erratic way you’ve been talking since I picked you up.” Wiley walked to the door and opened it. “Keep your cell close and I’ll call you as soon as I get a lead.”

  I let out an aggravated sigh. He was such a by the book tight wad. “I bet if this had happened to your family, you’d be out there kicking ass and then taking names. But since I’m a girl, you want to bring me to safety. I guess I should bake pies or some shit.”

  “Don’t you go pulling the feminism card on me, Nik. I’ve seen you do things that most men on our team, including myself, couldn’t pull off. This has nothing to do with you being a woman. I would bring any of our fellow agents to safety if them, or their family was in danger. It’s not like you have to stay here forever, just lay low for tonight and tomorrow we’ll get back on the case.”

  “Well, I’m not staying here. I don’t want or need to lay low.”

  “Nik, do you want me to camp out in front of this door and make you stay here?” Wiley asked, removing his hand from the door and turning to glare at me.

/>   “No, just go and find the bastard.”

  “I will, on my life,” he said before walking out.

  I screamed once the door closed behind him.

  My cell rang and it was Granson calling. “Hello,” I answered quickly.

  The line was silent, except for his ragged breathing for a short while. “I’m back at the hospital with Brittney,” he said, finally in a low volume.

  “Thank you. The agency has stepped up her security and my partner thinks it’s best that I separate myself from the situation and I’m at a safe house. He doesn’t think that Brittney was the target today.”

  “I noticed the agents everywhere when I got back.”

  “I feel one hundred percent better knowing that you are there. I love you, so much, Granson.”

  “Don’t be mistaken, Nicollette. I will never forgive you for betraying me. But this love I have for Britt, goes beyond blood. I left upset earlier, but I didn’t make it out of the parking lot. I sat out there thinking about that little girl in there fighting for her life. I will be by her side until she leaves this place.”

  I could hear the sincerity in every word that Granson spoke. I wished that I’d been as sincere to him—and kept our vow to love each other exclusively.

  “I love you, Granson,” I repeated, fully aware that I’d gotten no response from the first time I said it.

  “We’ll have to see where things go from there,” he simply replied. “But as far as Britt goes, I’m here for her. That’s what people who are loyal to each other do. They remain true,” he said, leaving me listening to the dial tone. The tears that stained my shirt as I cried for our love, turned into tears of fury and a vow to get revenge on the person that opened these wounds.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Scandal on Society Hill

  “Nik, I took you to our safe house. What are you doing here?” Wiley asked with a look of concern on his face when I walked into his office.

  “I’ve got to get to the bottom of this, so here I am,” I admitted, feeling one hundred percent better knowing that Granson had returned to the hospital to stay with Brittney. He was still upset with me, but he wanted me to find out who did this to our baby.