Forever and a Day (7 page)

She walked to where she’d left her suitcase, hefted it, and tried again. “Like I started to say earlier, thank you kindly. Might you have any idea where I could stay in this city?”

He nodded curtly, dropped the satellite phone into his computer case, and picked up his two bags. “We can discuss that—and other things as well—once we have cleared customs.”

“Sure and we can be discussing it.” Concern warred with her better judgment. “Why are you believing I’m still in danger?”

“We need privacy for that conversation,
fraulein
. It will occur once we have finished with customs.”

He sounded so distant, so formal; she stared at him. Was this the man who’d been within a hairsbreadth of laying her on the plane’s floor and making love to her?
Maybe he really does have a wife.
She cleared her throat to mask her discomfiture. “How long will that take?”

“Depends how busy they are this morning. Generally, the private plane passengers receive preferential treatment.”

A uniformed man appeared in the plane’s rear door. “Welcome to the U S of A,” he said, sounding more fatigued than jovial. “When will you require the plane again, sir?”

Lars glanced at what appeared to be a very expensive wristwatch. “It is nearly six thirty a.m. Shall we say between four and five this afternoon?”

“Which would you prefer, sir?”

“We can split the difference. Have her prepared to roll at four thirty.”

“You got it. Are you and the lady ready to deplane?”

Lars quirked an eyebrow at her; Tamara nodded. The man stepped aside, and she walked down the stairs and into an enormous hangar. She turned to Lars, who was right behind her. “Why are we inside?”

“It is better for the airplanes to be out of the weather, but the real reason is it allows customs to search for contraband, and lessens the odds of someone smuggling anything into the country.”

She glanced about. “Where do we go?”

He pointed and then placed a hand beneath her elbow. “Last door at the end of the hangar.”

Customs went as smoothly as everything else. Lars hadn’t been joking when he’d told her flying this way would spoil her forever. “What’s next?” she asked.

“Follow me.”

They took an elevator to a well-appointed, private lounge with a killer view of the runway. He held a brief discussion with a young blonde woman behind a counter before joining her. “I have rented us a small suite for the day. My company has an apartment in the city, but I do not wish to take the time to travel to it.” His gray gaze bored into her. “Does that meet with your approval?”

“I guess so.” She pursed her lips together. “I still think…” He laid a hand over her mouth, forestalling the rest of her words. “Now you look here.” She drew away and kept her voice low. “You cannot be treating me as if I were a child.”

He bent close and spoke near her ear. “Please,
fraulein
. We do not want to draw attention to ourselves. Our rooms are very close. Just down that hallway.”

She took a measured breath. If he hadn’t tossed in that bit about her being in danger, she would have just picked up her suitcase and lost herself in the crowd. As it was, maybe she should hang around long enough to see what he knew. She’d been assessing him surreptitiously while he spoke to the blonde, and his insistence that she stay didn’t feel like a trap. Sincerity all but shimmered about him. “All right.” She jerked her chin upward. “Lead out.”

His relief was palpable. He held the door of the lounge open and ushered her down a long hallway, up a half flight of stairs, and to a door marked 15-C. After a momentary grapple, he pulled an electronic key card from an inner jacket pocket and swiped it across a panel next to the door.

She stepped through once the door swung inward, and her jaw fell open. She wasn’t certain what she’d expected, but the well-appointed suite laid out before her rivaled her accommodations in Monte Carlo. Beige and off-white sofas with plump, colorful cushions were arranged around a big screen television. A small kitchen sat off to one side with stainless steel appliances and a rectangular table. Across from the kitchen were two closed doors, presumably a bedroom and bath.

She dropped her suitcase and purse, and spun to face Lars, who had just closed the suite’s door and activated the deadbolt. “Tell me about the danger. Now.”

“Would you care for something to eat or drink?” He divested himself of his valise and computer bag, tossing both onto the floor near a coffee table.

“No. The sooner you tell me what you know, the sooner I can figure out how I’m going to survive here.”

•●•

Lars swallowed. He’d spent the last half hour of the flight considering how to approach Tamara. Simply blurting out that he thought she’d killed Jaret would probably be a mistake since she was still skittish enough to bolt.

“Well?” She tapped one foot impatiently and settled her hands on her hips. “Did you lie about me being in danger? How would you have found out about something like that?”

“No,
fraulein
. I did not lie. This conversation might go better if we were more comfortable.” He settled on one of the sofas and patted the spot next to him.

She started his way, and then veered off and sat on the sofa at right-angles to his. “Okay,” she said through tight lips. “I’m comfortable enough.”

She wasn’t going to make this easy. Lars steepled his fingers together, surprised by how sweaty his palms were. He’d faced down seasoned killers with more aplomb than he felt right now. “I work for an organization that makes it their business to know things. While we were airborne, one of my associates called. Ermstatter told him you were on the plane, and he wanted to know who you were. Once I told him, he did some research through an extensive computer network.”

Her eyes widened and she drew into herself like a puppy that had been kicked. Lars extended a hand toward her and hastened on. “You have nothing to fear from us. Earlier you asked why I was in the casino. I was tracking Jaret Chen. It probably will not surprise you to know he is dead.” Lars sent his shifter magic outward, casting it in a net to assess both her reaction and the truth of her next words.

She sucked in a shaky breath and kept her gaze on the floor. “I found him that way in our rooms. I was afraid,” her voice trembled, “so I ran.”

Lars felt her lie in the pit of his stomach, but didn’t confront it directly. “I also know about your sister and her drug problem. I am so sorry for your loss.”

Tamara looked at him then; her blue eyes held a haunted edge. “Moira never used drugs,” she said, a hard edge of defensiveness roughening her voice. “That animal killed her and made it look like an overdose.”

“All the more reason you would have wanted him dead.” Lars kept his voice low, gentle. “I am no stranger to killing,
fraulein
. Some people are so bad they deserve their fate.”

“Oh.” Her voice was desolate, broken. “I’m guessing you know, then, or you wouldn’t have said that bit about bad people.”

“
Ja
. I know. It takes much courage to—” A rush of unintelligible words in Irish tumbled from her, drowning out the rest of his sentence.

Her eyes filled with tears and overflowed. She ignored the flood. “Y-you won’t be telling anyone,” she moaned and wrapped her arms around herself as if she’d never get warm again. “Oh dear God, you said one of your associates knows too.”

Lars couldn’t stand to see her suffer. He moved to her side and took her into his arms. She sobbed against him while he smoothed her hair and waited for the storm to subside. “You need not worry about my associate, Garen, or myself. Or any who work for my firm, The Company. What we, yes,
we
, must concern ourselves with is that Jaret Chen’s gang has apparently decided you killed him. It is why they came after your taxi—and why they did not bother me again after accosting me on my way to the airport. I thought it curious at the time they did not send another agent after my car, or simply shoot the tires out, but now I understand why they left me alone.”

She pulled away from his chest and snuffled, wiping her sleeve across her face. Lars handed her a handkerchief from one of his many pockets and she blew her nose. “What was I supposed to do?” she demanded. “He killed my only sister. I’m certain of it, though I don’t have the kind of proof a magistrate would want. Moira’s death nearly killed our da. My family will never be the same.”

“You do not have to justify yourself.” Lars held her gaze. “I had planned for Jaret to meet with an…untimely accident. It is why I was in Monte Carlo. I owe you a debt, since you did my job for me.”

Tamara sucked in a surprised breath. “Y-you work as a…an…” Her voice ran down. She couldn’t get the word out.

“I work in international security,” he said smoothly. “Many activities comprise my line of work.”

“Oh.” She glanced down. “Maybe I’d be wanting something to drink after all.”

“Of course.” He stood and strode to the kitchen, where he took a quick inventory. “It appears we have juice, mineral water, beer, and quite the selection of wine and hard liquor.”

“Is there any Irish whiskey?”

He chuckled. “Of course,
fraulein
.” Lars plucked a small, sealed bottle from its shelf, found a shot glass in the cupboard, and returned to Tamara.

She ignored the shot glass, twisted the top off the liquor bottle, and drained half of it. “Whew. Burns.” She shook her head. “It’s actually a relief someone knows,” she blurted. “Makes it seem less hideous, somehow.”

“I understand.” He sat next to her again and opened his arms. After a hesitation, she allowed him to hold her. “Let me tell you a story,
fraulein
.”

“Sure and I’d like that. It will give me something else to think about.”

Lars nodded to himself. That was his intent, to normalize what she’d done and help her come to terms with it. He wouldn’t bother to mention that the story he was about to tell had happened almost three hundred years before.

He tightened his hold on her and began to talk. “When I was much younger, I was involved in a…situation. I worked for a bank then in Berlin. My friend, Garen, had come into the bank because he and I had made plans to have supper together. He was waiting for me to finish with the day’s work. A robber entered the bank, intent on getting as much money as he could. Garen has an almost psychic side. He intuited what the man was about, even before he approached the counter with his ransom demand, and jumped him. They rolled about on the floor. Garen was shot.”

Lars stopped to take a breath. “I was seated at a desk off to one side. I dove on top of the man and strangled him, worried all the while who was attending to Garen. As soon as I could, I scooped my friend up and carried him to…where he could get help.”

“He survived because of you.” Tamara’s voice was muffled against his chest.

“Yes,
liebchen
, he did.” Lars buried his hands in her hair. “That was the first man I ever killed, and I have never forgotten how it felt.”

She shifted her position in his arms and wove hers around him, still talking against his chest. “Jaret was pretty stoned out on heroin, but he woke up after I stabbed him and came after me.” Her body shuddered in Lars’ arms. “I was so scared, but I just kept stabbing him until he didn’t move anymore.”

“You used a knife?” Lars couldn’t keep surprise out of his voice. “Such a personal way to kill. I would have thought a silenced gun much easier.”

“And where would I have gotten one of those?”

Good point.
Lars chose his next words carefully. “Garen was impressed by your courage—and he did not even know about the knife. He and I simply assumed you had a gun. In any event, he wants to meet you. It is one excellent reason to come to Seattle with me later today. If things go well, there could be a job for you with The Company.”

She pulled away and looked at him. Her face was tear-splotched, but her beauty shone through and warmed his soul. “He wants to hire me to…uh, do what I did to Jaret?”

“It takes a long time to become a field agent—” he began.

“I’m thinking I am not cut out for such things.” She shook her head. “I’m a journalist. Sometimes I take pictures to go along with my articles. Before I left for Nice, I worked for the
Irish Times
freelancing.”

Lars smiled. “The Company could use a good PR person.”

She smiled back. “That would be more to my liking.” She looked at her lap. “Sure and I’m not certain why I had to avenge my sister. I just knew I’d not rest easy until her killer rotted in hell.”

“I understand.” Lars handed the whiskey bottle back to her, watching while she took another swallow.

She set the bottle down. “Yes, I’m thinking you do.”

Lars traced the outline of her lips with a finger. He wanted her as badly as he’d ever wanted anything, but he could wait. They’d crossed an important barrier and she was starting to trust him. It was as good a beginning as he could have hoped for. The shifter conversation could wait. So could undressing her and worshipping her body. “I am going to take a shower, and then I must sleep for a few hours.”

“I wouldn’t mind cleaning up as well.” Color stained her cheeks. “If there aren’t two beds in the bedroom, I can stretch out on the couch. I’m probably not as tired as you, since I napped on the flight across the Atlantic.” She captured his gaze with her own. “I don’t quite know how to thank you. If you hadn’t happened along, sure and I’d probably be dead now.”

Good she understands that.
“No thanks needed,
fraulein
.” He got to his feet before he crushed her to him and kissed her until neither of them could breathe. “Make yourself at home here.” A thought occurred to him and he kicked himself for being sloppy. “You must have a cell phone.” She nodded. “Give it to me.”

She nodded her understanding, rose, and fished it out of her purse. “They can use it to trace where I am, huh?”

“Yes.” He cracked the case, withdrew the sim card, and asked, “Do you still have the knife?”

“No. I cleaned it off and got rid of it in some thick bushes.”