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.”