“Did you really mean that? About home?” Her blue eyes flooded again.
He drew back so their gazes met. “Yes. I meant it.” She opened her mouth, but he laid a hand over it. “You were incredibly brave and resourceful. You got me into the car and us out of there. Had we stayed, more men would have shown up.”
“It has to be more than you thinking I’d make a good field agent.”
He swallowed hard. “It is. I am not very good at talking about matters of the heart, but something about you called to me from the very first moment I saw you huddled in the back of that taxi.”
She smiled. “They call that sex, and the fascination is mutual. I could scarcely wait to get my hands under your clothes.”
Lars shook his head. “The physical attraction is strong, but it is much more than that. I cannot get enough of you. I…” His face heated, but he forged ahead anyway. “…that is, before with women, I left as soon as things were finished. With you, it is different.”
She stroked the side of his face. “I want to believe you—because I feel the same way.”
“I would not lie to you, liebchen. Maybe because I have lived so long,” his blush deepened, “and shared my bed with so many women, I recognize that what we have is different, special.” He gathered her body into his arms again. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned other women, but she melted against him.
“Tell you what,” she said. “Let’s be getting a spot of distance between us and disaster. Maybe waking up together, having a meal or two…” Her voice ran down.
He brushed his lips over the top of her head and got creakily to his feet. The gunshot wound had taken a toll, one which would take at least a few more hours to move past. “We can do this any way you wish, liebchen. So long as I have you near me, that is all I care about.”
He got back into his seat, resettled his headset, and handed Tamara hers.
“Well?” Miranda spun in her seat to gaze expectantly at them. “Do I get to plan a wedding?”
Lars held his breath. When Tamara said, “Maybe,” his heart took flight.
The helicopter settled on the roof of Garen’s Capitol Hill mansion in Seattle with barely a shudder. Lars helped Tamara out and led the way into a house he knew almost as well as his own.
“This is Garen’s home?” Tamara’s eyes widened as Lars steered her down richly carpeted stairs to the room on the second floor where he always stayed. “Sure and it could be a museum with all the paintings and sculptures and—” She stopped dead right in front of a bronze statue of a wolf with a man kneeling by his side. Tamara grazed her fingertips over the glowing metal and turned to Lars. “Whoever made this was exceptionally talented. They look alive.”
“Garen has had many years to collect beautiful things. I am anxious to share my home in Heidelberg with you.”
“Is it grand like this?”
Lars considered the question. “It is difficult to assess how another’s eyes will see something. I live in a manor house that was built in the sixteen hundreds. Of course, it has been modernized.”
Tamara narrowed her eyes. “I’m thinking you’ve owned it for a long time.”
“You would be correct.” He grinned. “When the count was killed, leaving no heirs, I bought it at auction. This way.” He tugged open a door and gestured her inside a large, sunny room in the southwest corner of the house. A king-sized bed covered with a fluffy duvet nestled beneath dormer windows. Antique armoires and matching dressers made of a rich, dark wood lined two walls.
He set down his valise, computer case, and her suitcase, having left a bag of clothing they’d bought for her in the helicopter. She held her arms out from her sides and twirled in place before running to the window and looking outside. “The gardens are incredible.” She turned slowly and faced him. “It’s all a wee bit overwhelming. I’ve led a simple life. Not that I’ve ever been truly poor, mind you, but nor has there ever been much left over.”
“Do you think you will be comfortable here?”
“Oh my, yes. It’s as if I’ve died and been reborn somewhere better.”
A sharp tap sounded on the door just before Garen opened it, with Miranda right behind him. “We’re going to get something going for a late breakfast. Care to join us?”
“What do you think?” Lars asked.
“Might I clean up a bit first?”
“Of course,” Miranda piped up, adding, “Do you like hot water?”
“Sure and it’s better than cold.”
Miranda laughed heartily. “Not quite what I meant. Come with me. We’ll just pop into the spa. There’s a hot tub and a sauna and a lap pool. By the time we’re done, the boys will have something edible on hand.” She eyed Garen. “Won’t you?”
“Sure darling. Even if I have to order it.”
“I can cook,” Tamara murmured.
“You’re our guest,” Miranda said firmly. “Come on.” She crooked a finger. “I’d love to get to know you better. You can tell me all about Ireland.”
Lars watched as the two women walked out of the bedroom and down the hall toward the spa in the basement. He waited until they were out of sight and quirked a brow at Garen. “That felt staged. What do you need to tell me?”
“Aw, shit. Am I that transparent?”
“Not to the fair fraulein, but I have known you for a very long time. Something has happened. Tell me.”
“I got hold of the car rental agency. By the time they sent someone round to collect their car, it was peppered with bullet holes.”
“I will reimburse you.”
“Not my point. Collateral damage and all that. A much bigger problem is we’re in an all-out war. We need to strike hard and fast to make them think twice about continuing to harass us.”
“Damn it. I had feared something of this magnitude would occur when those men tracked us from the Caspar airport.” Lars took a quick inventory of his body. “Give me a few hours to sleep and eat and then I will be ready to—”
Garen shook his head. “I’ve already deployed troops. You need to heal. Tamara needs a few days when she isn’t worried sick you’ll come home in a box.”
“But this is my battle,” Lars protested.
“No, old friend.” Garen borrowed one of Lars’ favorite appellations. “It is our battle. You may yet be conscripted, but for now you’ve done your part.”
“What exactly is it we are doing?”
Garen’s somber expression shifted into a vicious grin. “What else? We’ve targeted two of the plants where they produce heroin.” He glanced at his watch. “Bombs should be exploding any minute now.”
“Damn! Guess we play hardball. I am glad to be on our side.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, old buddy.” Garen shot a mock frown his way. “If you ever even think about switching camps, I’ll hunt you down and make you sorry you were ever born.”
Lars cocked his head to one side. “I do not believe you have much to concern yourself with on that front.” He slugged Garen in the bicep. Garen hit him back and they grappled with one another for long moments before dissolving into laughter.
Lars loped into the adjoining bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. When he walked back into the bedroom, he said, “You have delivered your message. What is Miranda talking with Tamara about?”
“Do you even have to ask?” Garen clapped Lars on the back.
Lars rolled his eyes. “Probably not. She is signing her on with The Company.”
“Exactly. Grab something that doesn’t reek of blood and come help me in the kitchen.”
Lars unbuttoned his shirt, toed off his shoes, and unzipped his pants. He tossed the dirty clothes in a pile. Garen whistled long and low. “What?” Lars demanded.