Forever and a Day (6 page)

She opened her mouth to him, welcomed his tongue. He wrapped her in his arms and lost himself in a kiss that held desperation as much as attraction. His headset crackled. The copilot asked for something to eat and drink, or for him to come fly the plane for a bit so he could get his own snack.

Tamara drew away, her breath coming quickly. Her lips were swollen from their kiss and color splotched across her face. “What was that about?”

“The other pilot.” Lars touched his mouth to hers again briefly, aware he was achingly hard. He got to his feet, feeling torn. Part of him, the part belling out the front of his trousers, wanted to ravish the woman staring up at him. His rational side urged caution. He needed to know more, a whole lot more, before he held Tamara in his arms again. If the copilot hadn’t disturbed them, he feared they’d have ended up coupling on one of the airplane’s lush leather seats. As it was, the smell of their arousal hung heavy in the still cabin air.

“Where are you going?” Her voice was low, husky. Her nipples were clearly outlined beneath her sweater, as were the curves of her obviously braless breasts.

“To take care of the airplane,” he said tersely. “I will see you later.”

•●•

Tamara watched his tightly-muscled body walk up the aisle toward the cockpit. She shivered slightly. Because she hadn’t wanted to answer any of his questions, she’d invited the kiss that had turned into something so amazing she still couldn’t quite believe it. His scent, musk and bay rum, clung to her. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend he was still close.

The cockpit door opened. Hope flared, but it was the other pilot, the one she hadn’t spoken with. Short, rotund, and bald, he favored her with a nod before disappearing into the head. When he came out, he tossed some snacks into a plastic bag and loped back up the aisle.

Tamara waited. Surely Lars would rejoin her, but minutes ticked by and he didn’t.

Who am I trying to kid? He probably has either a wife, or a girlfriend, maybe both.
A familiar sadness filled her. A man who was that handsome couldn’t possibly not be spoken for. Even if he were free, there was the little problem of her shifter blood. Lars was gorgeous and hot, but definitely not for her.

“What will I do once I get to New York,” she muttered. It was an enormous city and as good a place as any to be anonymous. She’d have to work, but there were a few magazines she’d freelanced for. Perhaps they’d have an assignment or two to keep food on her table. One thing for certain, she couldn’t tell her family anything. Or anyone else, either. She hated to hurt them, but knowledge of her whereabouts would probably place them in grave danger.

Jaret’s drug cartel had a long reach. It was possible no one would miss him, or want to avenge him, which might mean she could return to Ireland someday…

Dream on, sister. It certainly isn’t looking like that right now.

She hadn’t said anything to Lars, but she’d seen two men racing toward the cab just before she’d frozen into a fetal position in the back seat. If Lars hadn’t shown up, she had no doubt they’d have jumped in and taken off. He probably hadn’t seen them because they’d been behind him.

Would I have had the presence of mind to jump out? To scream my head off?
She bit her bottom lip. Those were simple questions. She should be able to answer them but couldn’t, not with any level of confidence. If she’d been capable of either of those things, she’d have done them before Lars dragged her quaking body out of the cab.

Maybe she could tell him part of the truth. That she’d returned to her room to find Jaret already dead. Not knowing what else to do, she’d panicked and fled. Tamara rolled varying combinations of words around in her mind. Only a few phrases constituted a bald-faced lie. Despite what Lars had said, no one could determine if she weren’t telling quite the whole truth.

She stood and walked to the cockpit door, raised her fist to knock, and then dropped it to her side. She laid an ear next to the door and dialed in her mountain cat senses. The low hum of conversation filled her augmented hearing. Unfortunately, the men spoke German. Not one of her languages. Now if it had been French, Greek, Irish, or Italian, she’d have been home free.

Damn!
She made her way back to the settee where she’d started out and shrugged her jacket over her sweater. Lars had said
he’d see her later
, whatever that meant. She’d assumed he’d return to talk with her, but he didn’t appear to be in any big rush. If he felt guilty about kissing her, because he’d been unfaithful to someone, she could let him know she didn’t hold any expectations on account of that kiss.

That’s it. I’ll make it clear I need a friend, not a lover. Maybe he’ll know somewhere in New York I can stay for a few nights, just until I get my bearings.

•●•

Lars swiveled his body to get his legs away from the rudder pedals and stretched them. A few moments before he’d heard Tamara right outside the cockpit door. When she didn’t knock, he’d tensed. What did she want? Was she part of the group trying to get rid of him?

He stood and walked to the door, sniffing for the telltale odor of explosives. It wasn’t likely, but he had to check. If the plane exploded, she’d die right along with him and the other pilot.

“
Was machst du?
” the copilot asked.

“Nothing.” A bit more confident, Lars cracked the door. All he smelled was her earthy scent, full of jasmine and lilacs. He shut the door, feeling ridiculously pleased. She’d wanted to talk with him but had chickened out. Maybe that meant…

Stop. It means nothing.
He returned to his seat and scanned his instrument cluster. It was still an hour before they’d land. His satellite phone vibrated against his side. Lars pulled it out and punched Answer.

“Ermstatter told me you have a woman with you,” Garen said, not bothering to start with
hello
. “Who is she?”

Lars glanced at the copilot. “Would you mind?” He pointed to his phone.

The taciturn man actually smiled. “Not at all. I’d welcome a break. I’ll return before we enter our final approach to land.” He glanced at his watch. “That should give you about half an hour.”

“Thanks.” Lars waited until the copilot left and the door locked automatically behind him. He could use the numeric code panel to return to the cockpit. Lars shifted his attention to Garen. “There is much you do not know.”

“I’m listening. Talk fast. These satellite calls cost an arm and a leg.”

Lars was just finishing when Garen broke in. “This line’s as scrambled as I can make it. Chen is dead. At first they suspected you, but you’re in the clear. Scuttlebutt, at least from his people, is the woman did him.”

Breath whooshed out of Lars. “She does not seem the type,” he stammered.

“I didn’t know hit people had a
type
,” Garen said dryly.

“No wonder they tried to kill her at the airport.” Lars closed his teeth over his bottom lip, thinking.

“I did a little more research just now, once I had your passenger’s name,” Garen went on. “Tamara’s sister was Chen’s woman. She died of a drug overdose about eight months ago.”

Puzzle bits ticked into place. Tamara must have avenged her sister’s death. “I cannot just turn her lose in New York,” Lars muttered. “Chen’s gang will find her, kill her.”

“Have you talked with her about any of this?”

“I tried—”

“It speaks well of her that she had the presence of mind to keep her mouth shut.”

“Christ! Stop interrupting me!” Lars tightened his hand on the yoke. The plane shuddered before restabilizing.

“We could use her,” Garen said flatly. “Sounds like she’d make a good agent.”

“Do you have reason to believe she’s a shifter?” Lars asked carefully. He tamped down wild hope racing through him.

“Maybe. Her sister was. So are others in her immediate family.”

“But that is marvelous news.” Lars clamped his jaws together before something else slipped out.

Unfortunately, Garen had known him a long time. “Marvelous? Why do I get the impression this Tamara is a knockout?”

Lars snorted. “If you have done as much in the way of research as I suspect, you have already seen a photograph.”

“Now that you mention it…” Garen drawled, letting his words dangle. “Bring her to Seattle. We can figure things out from here.”

“What if she does not want to come?”

“Fuck her into insensibility. You can be downright irresistible when you put your mind to it.”

A laugh bubbled up from his belly, followed by another. In moments, he was hooting with laughter, and relieved as hell no one could see him. When he could talk again, he said, “Thanks for the vote of confidence, old friend.”

“Hey. Miranda even considered taking you for a roll in the hay, and she’s quite discerning.”

“She told you that?” Incredulity was like a one-two punch after his bout of mirth.

“She tells me everything, just like you told her about you, me, and all those women we shared in some of the world’s hellholes.”

“Touché.” Heat rushed upward from his chest. He had told Miranda a lot, probably way more than he should have. “Sorry. You were not mated then.”

“Stand down. I’m not pissed. Let me know when you’re airborne again and give me an ETA. I’ll send a car and driver to meet you at Boeing Field.”

Lars opened his mouth to reply, but Garen had disconnected. He reattached the sat phone to its belt clip and digested what he’d heard. It explained a lot. Tamara would have blamed the kingpin heroin dealer for her sister’s drug overdose death. He set his mouth in a firm line. Too bad about that. It must have been hell having a family member who was an addict. He couldn’t even imagine the heartache something like that would cause.

It was incredibly gutsy of Tamara to put herself in the line of fire to avenge her sister’s death. She must have been a hell of an actress to deceive someone like Jaret Chen. Rumor had it he was an addict, but he ran a damned tight ship.

Handy that he’s dead. Makes my life easier.

The cockpit door creaked open, and the copilot got back into his seat. “Did you call the tower?”

“I was just getting ready to do that.” Lars keyed his mike and relayed their position to JFK. The air traffic controller fed him a list of instructions, which he jotted down.

The copilot held out a hand. Lars handed him the list, and the copilot fed data into the onboard computer system. “How is our passenger?” Lars asked carefully.

“Napping.” The copilot looked up and winked. “Quite the looker. Friend of yours?”

Lars made a noncommittal gesture. “Are you returning to Nice immediately?”

The copilot nodded. “Yes, but not the way you might expect. Ermstatter made me reservations on Swissair. I’ll be cutting it close because we had more of a headwind than I’d anticipated. Could you take care of buttoning up the plane?”

“Of course. I am surprised you would not want to stick around to fly it back to Nice.”

“I do as instructed. I was told your employer would take care of returning our aircraft and that you will be continuing in this same plane to your final destination.”

Lars blew out a pleased breath. As usual, lady luck was with him. His life would be much simpler without the copilot hanging around. It would make it easier to have a frank discussion with Tamara. FAA regulations aside, he didn’t need a second pilot to fly the plane. Now if he could just clear New York without anyone bothering him about that little detail, life would truly be sweet.

Tamara feigned sleep because she didn’t want to have to make small talk with the other pilot. Once he went back into the cockpit, she straightened in her seat and looked outside. They’d backtracked through dawn across the Atlantic, and the sky along the eastern seaboard was just pinking with the first rays of today’s sun. She buckled her seatbelt and readied herself. The plane cut smoothly through the air, landed with barely a shudder, and taxied into an enormous hangar. Once they came to a stop, she got to her feet.

The cockpit door opened and the copilot rushed past her, flight bag in one hand and a garment bag slung over his arm. “Hope you had a nice flight,” he called over one shoulder and popped the rear door. She stared after him. Should she follow? Tamara took a few tentative steps toward the plane’s open hatch.

“
Fraulein
,” Lars called from the cockpit. His voice was so clear it took her a moment to realize the copilot had left the door open. “Wait, if you please. I must shut things down here, and then I will assist you.”

She looked longingly at the cockpit door, wanting to spend more time with Lars, even if it was only walking from here to customs.
I’m being ridiculous—and pathetic. I can take care of myself. It’s best for everyone if I leave now, wind my way through the customs line on my own…
“Sure and I’ll be all right,” she called back. “Thank you so much for your kindness.”

Lars exploded through the cockpit door. “Do not leave. It is not safe. I have five more minutes work.”

“What do you mean not safe?” she sputtered. “I just arrived. Surely no one could possibly know—” In lieu of an answer, he grasped her wrist and pulled her down the plane’s aisle after him. Back in the cockpit, he sank into a plushy, padded seat.

Tamara gaped at the array of instrumentation. The entire dashboard, and much of the plane’s ceiling, was covered with round displays, square displays, levers, dials, and everything in-between. “By all the blessed saints.” She tapped a few of the displays and shook her head. “How do you keep them straight?”

He interrupted clicking things off, and making notations in a leather-bound notebook, long enough to look at her. “You should see the large, commercial jets. They have many more controls. There.” He got to his feet. “We can leave now. I will instruct a flight crew to have the plane ready for us. We depart in eight hours.”

His words hit home. “We?” She squeaked the word out. “What are you meaning by
we
? I must find my own way. I can’t let you—”

“Ssht. Enough.” He set his jaw in a hard line and nudged her back into the cabin.