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.

Chapter Four

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.