Forever and a Day (5 page)

“Where are we going?” The woman’s voice was low, musical, and very strained.

“To a place that rents private jets. We are leaving for New York in about forty minutes.”

“But… But I need to go home.” Hysteria danced beneath her words.

Lars laid a hand over one of hers. “We can talk in the plane. Not here.”

“New York?” The cabbie sounded ecstatic. “Hey, take me with you.”

“Next time,” Lars said. He scanned neon marquees and located Ermstatter. “Right there.” He tapped the cabbie’s shoulder and pointed.

“I know where it is.” The man sounded aggrieved and pulled the taxi to a crooked stop near the curb.

Lars got out, handed money to the driver, and herded the woman and her suitcase toward the swinging glass door. Before he pulled the door open, he bent low. “You do have a passport?” She nodded. “Now would be a good time to get it out.” She rifled through her purse and withdrew an Irish passport, with its red cover. He snapped it out of her hand and opened it. “Tamara MacBride from Dublin.” She nodded and yanked her passport back. “Nice to meet you, Tamara. My name is Lars.” He bowed slightly.

“Sure and I don’t know yet whether it’s a pleasure or not.” Her voice carried the lilt of Ireland. It still trembled, but she didn’t look quite as terrified as when he’d hauled her out of the taxi. Even frightened half out of her wits, she was still a striking creature. He wanted to crush her to him, bury his mouth in her hair, kiss her full lips, and tell her everything would be all right.

Not now. Not the time,
he chided himself.
I am not even sure which side she is on.

“Do not say anything inside the terminal,” he instructed. “Just show the customs agent your passport when he asks for it. I will be busy for a bit signing paperwork for our airplane.”

“Y-you can fly?”

“
Ja
. No worries, fair
fraulein
. I will take good care of you.” He opened the door and herded her inside.

•●•

Tamara stood off to one side as Lars signed sheet after sheet of paper at the counter. How was it even possible the man from the casino had rescued her? There was much more at work here than coincidence, and she wished to hell she knew what it was. Trying to appear nonchalant, she eyed him warily and tried to figure out what to do. Odds were good he was one of Jaret’s men, but she’d never met him before. Never even laid eyes on him before earlier tonight. Death had stalked her since she’d left the hotel. Was Lars just one more manifestation of it? He’d said he wasn’t on
their side
, but he might have lied to pressure her into coming with him.

She shook her head, disturbed her brain felt like warmed over mush. The adrenaline surge from killing Jaret had long since subsided, leaving her feeling dragged out and not functioning on all cylinders. Tamara forced herself to focus. Whatever this Ermstatter operation did, they certainly weren’t busy. Two women tag-teamed, keeping paper flowing beneath Lars’ pen. A customs agent stamped her passport.

Too nervous to sit, she shifted her weight from foot to foot. She still wasn’t certain quite what had happened. They’d been nearly to the airport terminal, the driver slowing the cab preparatory to dropping her off, when she’d heard muted pops from a silenced gun. At first she thought she’d imagined it. The only place she’d ever heard a sound like that was on the telly or in the movies. She’d told herself her imagination was working overtime, that she was safe. She’d made the airport…

The night was warm, so the driver’s window had been open. He’d made a choking sound, slumped over the wheel, and the cab had jumped the curb. Truth had slapped her hard. Too frightened to do anything but cower, especially after she’d seen two men racing toward her out of the corners of her eyes, Tamara had tensed, expecting another bullet to plough into her. Next thing she knew, Lars was there…

“
Fraulein
?”

She hadn’t heard him move to her side. Tamara squared her shoulders and looked at him. “Yes.”

“We are ready. I called you from across the terminal, but you did not respond.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She knew she sounded surly, but part of her still thought she should make a run for it.
Where would I go? How can I lose myself so Jaret’s men won’t be able to find me?

Desperate for information, she risked a sliver of shifter magic and directed it right at Lars. It pinged back clean. His eyes, which were focused on her, widened fractionally. Odd. He shouldn’t have felt her appraisal, but it made her feel confident enough to not bolt into the night. She might be wrong, but he didn’t feel like one of the bad guys.

“Follow me.” He led her through double glass doors that required a security code and out onto the tarmac. A gleaming, silver, twin engine jet waited. He motioned her up its stairway, followed after, and told her to sit where she wanted. “I need to help the copilot get us airborne,” he explained. “Once that is done, I will come back to the cabin to talk with you. The head is there.” He gestured toward the bathroom. “A well-stocked kitchen is across from it.” He swung his arm and pointed at a bank of built-ins. “Feel free to move about the cabin once I tell you we have reached cruising altitude.”

She giggled, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Sure and nothing is funny, except you sounded just like a stewardess on a normal flight.”

He smiled. It lightened the severe planes of his face and made him extraordinarily handsome with his ice-blond hair and gray eyes. “We aim to please,
fraulein
. Relax and enjoy the flight.” He tucked a cell phone into what looked like a computer case and drew out a larger item: a satellite phone, which he clipped to his belt.

Worry fluttered in her belly. What did she really know about this man, other than he’d coincidentally been in the right place at the right time? “Um, I didn’t think you could use phones in flight.”

He nodded. “That is true for passengers on commercial flights, but not for the reasons you might think. Cell phones that are visible to too many towers will not work, but even the smaller private planes frequently have sat phones in them.”

She snorted. In spite of strong reservations, she found herself relaxing a little. Something about Lars was hard to resist, and she appreciated him taking the time to answer what must have seemed like a stupid question. “I have a feeling this will spoil me forever.”

His grin broadened. “It will. No maybe about it. I still fly commercially, but only when there is no other choice.” Brushing past her, he hurried to the front of the plane and disappeared behind a door that closed behind him.

Tamara took off her jacket, settled onto a plush settee, and buckled her seatbelt. Her body felt electric where he’d touched her. She remembered her graphic sexual fantasies of him, and her face heated. The plane taxied, and then rose smoothly into the air. She peeked out a window and saw dawn lightening the eastern sky.

What have I gotten myself into?

Sure and I guess I’ll find out soon enough,
a pragmatic inner voice answered.

She closed her eyes, battling waves of weariness.

“
Fraulein
.” Warm, sweet-smelling breath bathed her ear.

“I must have drifted off.” She opened her eyes; Lars sat next to her. How long had he been there?

“Would you like something to eat or drink?”

“Sure. Anything.” She yawned. “I’m going to wash my face and hands.”

“By the time you get back, I will have prepared something for us. I suspect it has been nearly as long a night for you as it has been for me.”

Darling, you don’t know the half of it.
She undid her seatbelt and walked to the rear of the cabin and the small, neat head. Now that she wasn’t running on sheer nerves, she was intrigued by what Lars had to say and curious why he’d rescued her. He’d mentioned earlier they needed to talk. She grinned at her reflection in the small mirror and finger-combed her hair. Next she held the water spigot open with one hand, bent over the stainless steel bowl, and splashed water on her face with the other.

“Talk away,” she murmured, drying her face and hands with a paper towel. “I’ll be all ears.” It made no sense, but she thought she could listen to whatever he had to say forever.

Lars busied himself in the galley arranging sliced cheese, crackers, and grapes on two Lexan plates. He was grateful for something to do. Tamara quite took his breath away. He wasn’t positive, but what she’d blasted him with in Ermstatter’s reception area had felt a lot like shifter magic.

I only want it to be,
he lectured himself, aware how lonely he was. Though he’d shielded himself from the truth of it, Miranda choosing Garen had been one more nail in the coffin closing him off from a world of loving couples. He knew he appealed to women, but his profession, and his shifter blood, kept him aloof. It had never felt fair to open his heart too far—or encourage a woman to fall in love with him—when he had so many secrets to keep.

It was why Miranda would have been such a good choice. An espionage agent and shifter herself, she would have understood his needs perfectly. Despite lots of empty sex, he’d always known he could never seriously consider any woman other than a shifter for a permanent partner. Yes, Miranda had been ideal. More than ideal, actually.

Stop! She belongs to my closest friend.

The door to the head snicked open behind him and Tamara emerged. Spots of color splashed both cheeks, heightening her already-dramatic coloring. “Help you with those?” She arched a brow.

He handed one of the plates to her. “Unless you wish more than this, I am done. What would you like to drink?”

“Is there any juice, or mineral water?”

He opened the refrigerator and scanned its contents. “Both.”

She leaned so close the warmth of her body seared him. Rather than asking, she reached around him and plucked a carton of vegetable juice blend from the center shelf. As quickly as she’d come up next to him, she was gone. Lars felt grateful she wasn’t still hovering. Heat rose up his neck and swept over the top of his head. Selecting orange juice for himself, along with a bottle of water, he shut the fridge and took a steadying breath. He had to tamp down his attraction for her. It would only get in the way. For all he knew, she was in cahoots with Jaret Chen’s gang. She’d certainly looked like Chen’s woman in the casino.

Best tread carefully.

He pulled two napkins from a drawer, picked up his plate, and walked to where Tamara sat. She’d moved to one of the seating configurations where four seats faced one another, two on a side. He set his plate down and went back for his drinks. By the time he settled across from her, her plate was nearly empty. “Would you like more,
fraulein
?”

She shook her head. “I saw where things were. If I want anything else, I can get it myself. You surely don’t have to be waiting on me.”

He nodded, put a piece of cheese on a cracker, and ate it. Lars knew he was stalling, but he wasn’t certain where to start. It wasn’t as if she was his prisoner and he could fire questions at her willy-nilly. Tamara watched him with her sea-blue eyes over the top of her juice container. At least she’d regained her composure. Perhaps that might be a place to begin. “You are looking more relaxed.”

“Yes. Thank you.” She licked her lips and set the juice aside. “Why were you in the casino?”

Lars bit back a laugh. “Direct. I like that in a woman. Funny, but that was one of the questions I planned to ask you.”

She cocked her head to one side, regarding him intently. “You didn’t exactly answer me.”

Lars narrowed his eyes. “How about if we try a different topic? What is your connection to Jaret Chen?”

She studied her hands. Lars could almost feel her thinking, sorting through half-truths and discarding them. “
Fraulein
.” He reached across the space between them and placed his index finger beneath her chin to tilt her head so she had to look at him. “It is better for you to remain silent than to weave fabrication. I will know if you are lying.”

She drew back. “How?”

He shrugged. “How does anyone do anything? It is one of my…talents.”

She dragged a breath deep into her lungs, blew it out, and did it again, but she didn’t look away. “All right,” she said after a space of time. “I was his girlfriend.”

“Was?”

She nodded but didn’t offer anything further. Lars let go of her chin. Where to go from here? “Did the two of you have a fight?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Her tone was carefully neutral. “What happens after we get to New York?”

“You changed the subject.”

She picked up a grape, popped it into her mouth, and chewed. “Is that against the rules?”

Lars’ lips twitched. In addition to being stunning, Tamara had a quick mind. “How’d your taxi driver end up dead?”

“What is this? Twenty questions? Except neither of us answers any of them.” She gave her head a little shake. It made the feathered ends of her hair dance around her high cheekbones. “I have no idea what happened. One minute we were almost to the airport. The next, the cab crawled over the curb and you showed up.”

“That is not quite all,
fraulein
.” Lars set his plate aside and moved to the seat next to her. “You were as frightened as anyone I have ever seen.”

“Sure and wouldn’t you have been?” she countered, drawing herself up straighter in her seat.

“Probably.”

“Next you’ll be telling me you’re used to sharing cars with the dead.”

“I am not certain anyone ever gets used to something like that.” He locked gazes with her, and almost wished he hadn’t. Pools of blue light, her eyes drew him inexorably nearer. Without knowing quite why, he laid a hand on the side of her face. When she didn’t pull away, he traced his fingertips over her full lips. She laid her hand over his. He thought he read invitation in her eyes and leaned closer. It wasn’t a good idea; the sensible part of his mind argued against it—and lost. He replaced his fingers with his mouth. What began as the barest brushing of his mouth against hers turned into a heated kiss.