“I had a feeling they’d be.” She wanted to bury herself in his arms; instead she walked, straight-backed, from the kitchen table. A clear head would be her ally and Lars clouded her thoughts. According to him, she’d be a part of his life no matter what, but she had a feeling things would be different, richer, deeper, if she signed on with The Company.
For one thing, I’d know what they were all so thrilled about when Garen did that thumbs-up deal.
Tamara reached the top of the stairs and headed for their room. She found her jacket easily enough, slid it on, and retraced her steps, except this time, she let herself out the ornate front door. As she walked down brick steps and wandered through a garden laid out in rectangular and circular planting beds, she made an effort to sort her jumbled thoughts.
Part of the problem was she hadn’t totally moved past feeling like Jaret Chen’s patsy. Her escape had slid from a sure thing, to dicey, to little shy of miraculous after Lars had dragged her out of the taxi. Tamara asked herself what sort of woman would place herself in that kind of situation. Did the fact that she had mean she had the raw material she’d need to work in espionage?
What Garen had inferred about her father was intriguing. Tamara didn’t know much about either parent, beyond who they’d been raising her and her siblings. It was almost as if her family had a don’t ask, don’t tell policy in place, sort of like the U.S. military for their gay soldiers.
About the only thing I know is they raised other kids. We never did find out about our older brothers and sisters because it was too dangerous…
One of the huge pluses of signing on with The Company would be being able to claim all of who she was. To not have to hide anymore. Shifters who admitted what they were had been forced into compounds. They wore electronic ankle bands to track their movements. At first, it had been just in the United States, but Canada, Europe, and the U.K. were quick to pass similar laws. All that had happened before she’d been born—except the electronic ankle band part—so she’d never lived in a time when she didn’t have to lead a dual existence.
She sat on a stone bench and inhaled the mingled scents of damp flowers and greenery. The Pacific Northwest was rainy and verdant. In many ways, it reminded her of Ireland. Deeper thoughts buffeted her. She’d known at some level she’d never be able to go home once Jaret was dead. She hadn’t allowed herself to go there because it might have crippled her resolve.
Maybe I’m more like Lars and Garen and Miranda than I know…
Tamara got to her feet and made her way back into the house. The group wasn’t in the cozy breakfast nook anymore. It didn’t take her long to locate them in another of the home’s many downstairs rooms. She walked through the door of a cheerful sitting room with a stone fireplace at one end. Colorful occasional chairs and sofas were scattered in small conversational groupings. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined two walls. Lars, Miranda, and Garen turned at the sound of her footsteps.
Lars leaped to his feet, his heart in his eyes. He held out both hands to her, but she shook her head. “Sure and you’re an amazing man, but my head is clear and I don’t want to muddy things. It is kind of you to invite me to be a part of what you have been building for a long time.
“I thought about a lot of things while I was outside, but maybe the biggest one is I’m sick of feeling like a second-class citizen, of pretending to be what I’m not. So,” she looked right at Lars, “regardless of whether you and I end up together or no, I accept Garen’s offer.”
Miranda whooped. She jumped out of her chair, ran to Tamara, and swept her into a huge hug. “Enjoy the love now,” she said. “I’m a bitch in the field.”
Garen shoved his mate aside and shook Tamara’s hand. “Welcome aboard.” Miranda looped an arm through Garen’s and pulled hard. He looked at his mate. “What?”
“They need to talk,” she said pointedly and dragged Garen out of the sitting room.
•●•
Lars still had his hands extended toward her, but he felt suddenly shy and awkward, and dropped them to his sides. “Ja. Miranda is correct. There is much to talk about. Would you like to sit? Or maybe walk a little more? You never did take your coat off.”
“So I didn’t. Sure and walking would be perfect.” She turned and strode out of the room. He followed her, wanting to touch her, at least hold her hand, but he understood she had to come to him. He caught up to her at the front door and held it open. “Such a gentleman,” she murmured.
“It is the time I came from. Men were trained to care for women then. It was ingrained.”
She set a moderate pace; he walked by her side. A light rain fell, more of a mist than anything. “So what happens next?” she asked.
“For us, or for you and The Company?”
She stopped a moment, forehead creased in thought. “Both. Start with The Company. Come on.” She brushed damp hair back from her face. “This is easier when we’re on the move.”
He fell into step next to her again. “You will share blood with Garen, and then we will develop a training regimen for you. It will be similar to a job. You will have a schedule to increase your physical endurance, and to teach you skills to be effective in the field.” He took a breath. “There are milestones. When you have accomplished a minimum amount of them, we will give you your first assignment.” He couldn’t keep a fond smile off his face. “I am afraid much of it will feel trivial after the things you have already done.”
“What were Garen and the rest of you so stoked about earlier?”
Lars started to relay an annotated history of their war with Chen’s gang, decided it was overkill, and settled for saying, “We had to do something to make Chen’s people back off, so Garen deployed agents to destroy two of the labs where they refine poppy juice into heroin.”
She halted and turned so she faced him. “Sure and it can’t be that easy.” She snapped her fingers. “You blow up a lab and they go away.”
“It is not. But we did slow them down. Their priority will be to rebuild, so they will leave us alone—for now.” He inhaled sharply. “The war is never over, liebchen. There will always be bad guys.”
“What you do is important work.”
He placed a finger beneath her chin. “What we do is important work. You are one of us now.”
“So I am. It will be taking a wee bit of time for that to sink in.” She licked her lips, gaze somber. “Now. About us.”
“I am falling in love with you.” Shock waves rocked him to his conservative core. Was it possible he’d actually said that?
“You’ve got that just-swallowed-an-elephant look about you again.”
“Probably, but it is because such things do not come easily to me. I will care for you, liebchen. Protect you. Love you. Shelter our children from harm.”
Her eyes shone with unshed tears. She closed the distance between them and he folded her into his arms, rejoicing in the feel of her body against him. He wanted to kiss her until they were both breathless, and do a whole lot more beyond that, but he satisfied himself with her body molded to his and her scent eddying about them. They weren’t quite done talking. He had good news and wanted to make certain she knew because it might set her mind at ease.
“Garen checked his records. They helped him remember some things about your father.”
“Really?” She drew away, hope burning in her eyes.
He nodded, “Really. Come, liebchen. There is an enclosed gazebo at the end of this walkway with a brazier I can light if you are cold. It would be more comfortable and get us out of the rain.”