He nodded. “All that means is you have a conscience. You did not back out, or run shrieking from your rooms. You finished what you began. It is the same for us all. When you meet Miranda, perhaps she will tell you about one of her last assignments in a brothel for human slaves. She almost lost everything freeing them.”
“She must be very brave.”
“Courage comes from the heart.” He tapped his breastbone. “You have a big heart.”
Tamara shook her head. “Not so big. I was scared. So scared I dithered back-and-forth. Weeks passed when I could have…done something.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “There were nights I’d circle the bed with my knife in my hand. I’d get the blade close to him, but damn me if I could force myself forward. I’d creep back to the living room and stuff a towel in my mouth so he wouldn’t hear me crying.”
“What made the difference?” Lars thought he knew, but it would be good for her to verbalize it so it sank in.
She pursed her lips; they flattened into a hard line. When she spoke, her voice vibrated with outrage. “I was sick of him.” She patted her chin with the back of one hand. “Sure and I’d had it up to here with Jaret Chen. Every other night he was stoned, so I could get out of sex because he was more interested in his dope and just fell asleep. That night, he put off his shot…” She gulped air. “I, he…” Her voice trailed off, and her face splotched with shame.
“I will not judge you, liebchen.”
She twisted her mouth into a disgusted moue. “I’d already decided back at the casino that I was going to…finish things, but after we got to our rooms, he made me touch myself. He’s a voyeur, one of them that likes to watch. I started out making a game of it, but I made myself come—twice.” She swallowed hard, but didn’t drop her gaze. “I was afraid if I stayed with him much longer, I’d be drawn into his sickness, his craziness. If that happened, I’d have been lost. Even as things were, he’d never have just let me walk away. I knew too much. Eventually, I’d have ended up dead, just like poor Moira.”
Lars reached across the few inches separating their seats and took her hand. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Her nostrils flared. “Sure and that was harder than telling you about my magic.”
“Because your magic is something you were born with and cannot change. Your actions with Jaret were a choice, one which embarrasses you. I have done many things I am not proud of. We make choices in the field, often when we cannot think as clearly as we would like.”
Tamara gripped his hand. “What you said helps. Maybe I can forgive myself, but not quite yet. How much longer until we land?”
“A bit less than two hours.” He pointed at her mineral water.
She plucked it from the drink holder built into her seat and handed it to him. “I’ll find us another. Back in a moment.” She got to her feet, moved to his side, and brushed her lips over his. “It will take a wee bit of time for all this to sink in.”
“You have lived through a lot in just a few hours. Be gentle with yourself.”
She cupped his face between her hands. “I’m still annoyed I spent even one extra minute with Jaret, let alone weeks. By all the blessed saints, I waited until I was nearly lost.” She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, shaking her head back and forth.
“Ssht.” He wrapped an arm around her and held onto her neck for a long moment. “You have time, liebchen. All you’ll need to come to terms with what you did.”
She straightened. “Thank you.” Her footsteps faded as she left the cockpit.
He hoped what he’d said was true. Lars had a feeling at least one pitched battle stood between her and the time he’d promised. Jaret’s operation spanned the globe and they didn’t seem to be taking the loss of one of their key players lying down.
•●•
Tamara wanted to skip down the plane’s aisle. She’d kept a watchful eye on Lars, and he hadn’t even flinched when she’d revealed her appalling behavior with Jaret. Maybe there was hope he could care for her. She was just balancing two bottles of mineral water, a box of crackers, and some sliced cheese when the plane lurched to one side and the ride got bumpy. She convinced herself they’d just hit an air pocket, spread her feet in a wider stance, and bent to troll through another cupboard.
“Return to the cockpit now!” Lars’ voice crackled in the headset she’d never removed.
Her heart slammed into her throat. Not an air pocket. Something was wrong with the plane. She hurtled down the aisle. The cockpit door was shut. Her hands were full, so she kicked it.
Lars pulled it inward, his face a study in determination. “Into your seat. Now. Fasten your harness. It will get very rough.”
Food and water fell from her nerveless fingers and tumbled to the floor as she scrambled to obey. “What’s wrong?”
“We have lost an engine, although I do not understand how it happened. The instruments did not note a malfunction. The right engine simply quit. We might have sucked something into it, but generally birds do not fly this high.”
Her stomach twisted into a burning knot. She clenched her hands together in her lap to stop them from shaking. “Are we going to crash?”
He looked away from his instruments long enough to flash her a thumbs-up sign. “Not on my watch. I do not have time to explain fully, but left rudder will cancel much of the yaw from the dead right engine. Still, our landing will be difficult.”
Questions blasted through her mind, but Tamara ignored them. She didn’t want to disturb his concentration by asking for reassurances beyond what he’d already given her. Lars held several conversations over the radio. She picked up that they’d declared an emergency and would be landing at the nearest airport, which was Caspar, Wyoming. Despite dire straits, Lars was cool and collected. Her admiration for him grew by leaps and bounds as she watched him maintain their course, his hands and feet coaxing the disabled plane through the air. He knew exactly what to do and acted as if things like this were second nature.
In short order, they were lined up with the runway and dropping lower and lower. Fire trucks stood along both sides, their bright red color easily visible. “Brace yourself,” Lars said. The plane hit, bounced, and hit again. Three bounces later, they catapulted down the runway. “Fuck!” he sputtered. “No brakes.”
The plane skidded from side to side as Lars jammed the rudders sequentially. Finally, the plane slowed and rolled to a stop. Emergency personnel converged on the plane, spraying it with some sort of foam.
Tamara blew out a tense, shaky breath. “We had two separate problems?”
He nodded, expression grim as death. “Someone tampered with the brakes—and altered both their gauge and warning lights. We would not have found out until it was too late. Apparently there was just enough pressure left in the lines to allow us to taxi to our takeoff point without alerting me something was amiss.” He shut his eyes for a long moment. “Our engine failure was a godsend in disguise. If we had been one of many planes in a pattern coming in to land, I would not have been able to stop, and we would probably have plowed into another plane once we were on the ground. At least here, they cleared the runway for us.”
The enormity of what he said bit deep. She clawed at her throat to try to get more air. “Chen’s men,” she croaked.
“Who else?” Lars growled. “Keep quiet, fraulein.”
The radio crackled to life. Lars spoke into it, explaining the brake failure and saying they’d open the plane’s door immediately. He stood and extended a hand to her. “We will go into the terminal and rent a car.” He removed his headset and switched it off. She raised an eyebrow. He nodded; she mimicked his actions and tossed her headset atop his. Once no one could hear them, he bent close to her ear. “Now would be an excellent time to amp up that brogue. They will question us. Follow my lead. I do not see how they can detain us, but it may take time before they let us go. That this is a rental aircraft will not help our situation.”